citizen condemned to any severe punishment | warrior placed himself at the entrance of the to appeal from the sentence of the magistrate bridge over which the pursuers had to pass, to the judgment of the people. For this rea- and defended it, in spite of all their efforts, son Valerius was surnamed "Publicola," and till the bridge was entirely broken down beis still known in history under that popular hind him by his fellow-soldiers. He then title. But what did him still greater honor leaped with his arms into the Tiber and swam was his perfect disinterestedness: although safely to his friends, "having," says Livy, he passed through the highest offices of the "achieved an exploit which posterity will state, and had for a long time the manage- find it more easy to admire than to believe.” ment of the public revenues, he never sought to enrich himself, nor even to increase his little fortune. He died so poor that he did not leave enough to meet the funeral expenses. They were, of course, amply defrayed by the government, and the same honors were paid to him that had been paid to the memory of Brutus. A second engagement proved more favorable to the Romans, and cost Porsenna no less than five thousand of his soldiers; this made him take the determination to change the siege into a blockade and endeavor to reduce the city by famine. Starvation began to rage fearfully among the inhabitants, whose number, being about three hundred thousand, soon exhausted their provisions. In this distress the Romans were again rescued from further danger by the daring and desperate act of one of their citizens, a conspicuous youth named Mucius, and afterward surnamed "Scævola." That young man entered the Etrurian camp unperceived, and, penetrating into the very tent of Porsenna, killed the secretary, whom he mistook for the king. Porsenna generously spared his life, but, alarmed at the danger to which he had been exposed and struck at the obstinate courage of the Romans, he entered into a treaty with them. On the single condition that a certain extent of territory formerly belonging to the Etrurians should be restored he put an end to the siege, and left the royal exiles to their own resources. The aged Tarquin did not yet think his case entirely hopeless. Notwithstanding the failure of so many exertions, he still preserved sufficient influence over the Latin tribes to make them unite with him in a league against the Romans. The armies took the field and | known Mr. Lincoln was very fond. He once met near Lake Regillus, whence the decisive remarked, "It matters not to me whether action which followed took its name. Never was a battle fought with greater animosity. The chief leaders of both parties animated their troops still more by example than by words and were found in the hottest part of the conflict; hence, nearly all of them were killed or wounded. Among others, a brother and two sons of the illustrious Publicola on the one side, and on the other a son-in-law and the two remaining sons of Tarquin, lost their lives whilst performing prodigies of prodigies of valor. At last the Romans by desperate efforts caused victory to declare in their favor. About twenty-seven thousand men had been engaged on their side, and forty-three thousand on that of the Latins-nearly seventy thousand in all; of the latter, only ten thousand escaped. Their terrified countrymen immediately sent ambassadors to sue for peace. It was granted on moderate terms, and the Romans established more firmly than ever their noble political maxim, to conquer the proud and spare the vanquished. This important victory most effectually secured the commonwealth of Rome. Tar- Shakespeare be well or ill acted; with him the thought suffices." Edwin Booth was playing an engagement at this time at Grover's theatre. He had been announced for the coming evening in his famous part of Hamlet. The President had never witnessed his representation of this character, and he proposed being present. The mention of this play, which I afterward learned had at all times a peculiar charm for Mr. Lincoln's mind, waked up a train of thought I was not prepared for. Said he and his words have often returned to me with a sad interest since his own assassination-" There is one passage of the play of Hamlet which is very apt to be slurred over by the actor, or omitted altogether, which seems to me the choicest part of the play. It is the soliloquy of the king, after the murder. It always struck me as one of the finest touches of nature in the world." Then, throwing himself into the very spirit of the scene, he took up the words. SOLILOQUY OF CLAUDIUS AFTER THE MUR DER OF HAMLET'S FATHER. Oh, my offence is rank, It smells to heaven; Or pardoned, being down? Then I'll look up; Of those effects for which I did the murder- terance of the most intense bitterness and satire." Then, unconsciously assuming the character, Mr. Lincoln repeated, also from memory, Richard's soliloquy, rendering it with a degree of force and power that made it seem like a new creation to me. Though familiar with the passage from boyhood, I can truly say that never till that moment had I fully appreciated its spirit. I could not refrain from laying down my palette and brushes and applauding heartily upon his conclusion, saying, at the same time, half in earnest, that I was not sure but that he had made a mistake in the choice of a profession-considerably, as may be imagined, to his amusement. Sinclair has since repeatedly said to me that he never heard these choice passages of Shakespeare rendered with more effect by the most famous of modern actors. Mr. Mr. Lincoln's memory was very remarkable. With the multitude of visitors whom he saw daily, I was often amazed at the readiness with which he recalled faces and events, and even names. The evening of March 25, 1864, was an intensely interesting one to me. It was passed with the President alone in his study, marked by no interruptions. Busy with pen and papers when I entered, he presently threw them aside and commenced talking again about Shakespeare. Little Tad coming in, he sent him to the library for a copy of the plays, from which he read aloud several of his favorite passages. Relapsing into a sadder strain, he laid the book aside, and, leaning back in his chair, said, "There is a poem that has been a great favorite with me for years, to which my attention was first called when a young man by a friend, and which I afterward saw and cut from a newspaper, and carried in my pocket, till by frequent reading I had it by heart. I would give a great deal," he added, "to know who wrote it, but I never could ascertain." Then, half closing his eyes, he repeated the poem, "Oh, why should the spirit of mortal be proud?" * Surprised and delighted, I told him that I should greatly prize a copy of the lines. He replied that he had recently written them out for Mrs. Stanton, but promised that when a favorable opportunity occurred he would give them to me. Varying the subject, he continued: As he finished this verse he said in his emphatic way, "For pure pathos, in my judgment, there is nothing finer than those six lines in the English language." A day or two afterward he asked me to accompany him to the temporary studio, at the Treasury Department, of Mr. Swayne, the sculptor, who was making a bust of him. While he was sitting it occurred to me to improve the opportunity to secure the promised poem. Upon mentioning the subject the * By William Knox. For poem, see Vol. III., p. 30. sculptor surprised me by saying that he had at his home, in Philadelphia, a printed copy of the verses, taken from a newspaper some years previous. The President inquired if they were published in any connection with his name. Mr. Swayne said that they purported to have been written "by Abraham Lincoln." "I have heard of that before, and that is why I asked," returned the President. "But there is no truth in it. The poem was first shown to me by a young man named Jason Duncan, many years ago." The sculptor was using for a studio the office of the solicitor of the Treasury Department, an irregular room packed nearly full of law-books. Seating myself, I believe, upon a pile of these at Mr. Lincoln's feet, he kindly repeated the lines, which I wrote down one by one as they fell from his lips. LOVE F. B. CARPENTER. LOVE'S TRIUMPH. OVE in fantastic triumph sat, For whom fresh pains he did create, From me he took his sighs and tears, From thee his pride and cruelty; From me his languishment and fears, And every killing dart from thee. Thus thou and I the god have armed, And set him up a deity; While thine the victor is, and free. APHRA BEHN. THE RESCUE. FROM "ARCTIC EXPLORATIONS." VERYTHING looked promising, and we were only waiting for intelligence that our advanceparty had deposited its provisions in safety to begin our transit of the bay. Except a few sledge-lashings and some trifling accoutrements to finish, all was ready. We were at work cheerfully, sewing away at the skins of some moccasins by the blaze of our lamps, when toward midnight we heard the noise of steps above, and the next minute Sontag, Ohlsen and Petersen came down into the cabin. Their manner startled me even more than their unexpected appearance on board. They were swollen and haggard, and hardly able to speak. Their story was a fearful one. They had left their companions in the ice, risking their own lives to bring us the news: Brooks, Baker, Wilson and Pierre were all lying frozen and disabled. Where? They could not tell: somewhere in among the hummocks to the north and east; it was drifting heavily round them when they parted. Irish Tom had stayed by to feed and care for the others, but the chances were sorely against them. It was in vain to question them further. They had evidently travelled a great distance, for they were sinking with fatigue and hunger, and could hardly be rallied enough to tell us the direction in which they had come. My first impulse was to move on the instant with an unencumbered party: a rescue, to be effective, or even even hopeful, could not be too prompt. What pressed on my mind most was where the sufferers were to be looked for among the drifts. Ohlsen seemed to have his faculties rather more at command than his associates, and I thought that he might assist us as a guide; but he was sinking with exhaustion, and if he went with us we must carry him. There was not a moment to be lost, While some were still busy with the new-comers and getting ready a hasty meal, others were rigging out the Little Willie with a buffalo-cover, a small tent and a package of pemmican, and as soon as we could hurry through our arrangements Ohlsen was strapped on in a fur bag, his legs wrapped in dog-skins and eiderdown, and we were off upon the ice. Our party consisted of nine men and myself. We carried only the clothes on our backs. The thermometer stood at 46°, 78° below the freezing-point. A well-known peculiar tower of ice called by the men the the men the "Pinnacly Berg" served as our first landmark; other icebergs of colossal size, which stretched in long beaded lines across the bay, helped to guide us afterward, and it was not until we had travelled for sixteen hours that we began to lose our way. We knew that our lost companions must be somewhere in the area before us, within a radius of forty miles. Mr. Ohlsen, who had been for fifty hours without rest, fell asleep |