"A shape all light, which with one hand did fling A silver music on the mossy lawn." Yet more and more distinctly did I catch a plaintive tone of sorrow in her thought and speech, like the wail of an Æolian harp heard at intervals from some upper window. She had never met one who could love her as she could love; and in the orange-grove of her affections the white, perfumed blossoms and golden fruit wasted away unclaimed. Through the mask of slight personal defects and ungraceful manners, of superficial hauteur and egotism, and occasional extravagance of sentiment, no equal had recognized the rare beauty of her spirit. She was yet alone. Cassius Marcellus Clay. BORN in Madison Co., Ky., 1810. ABRAHAM LINCOLN. [Memoirs, Writings, and Speeches. 1886.] WE all know Mr. Lincoln was not learned in books; but he had a higher education in actual life than most of his compeers. I have always placed him first of all the men of the times in common. sense. He was not a great projector-not a great pioneer-hence not in the first rank of thinkers among men; but, as an observer of men and measures, he was patient, conservative, and of sure conclusions. I do not say that more heroic surgery might not have put down the Rebellion; but it is plain that Lincoln was a man fitted for the leadership at a time when men differed so much about the ends as well as the methods of the war. The anti-slavery element in these States was never, and is not now, great. The Americans, like the English, are ever much in favor of their own liberty. Only when the slave-power projected universal dominion was the North aroused; and only when it was the death of Slavery, or the death of the Union, did the great mass of Americans assent to its destruction. So Lincoln was not indifferent to slavery, as some of his superficial critics assert; but he was a type of the majority of Americans who, whilst conscious of the evils of slavery, were not yet so enthusiastic as to desire to grapple with its difficulties. But Lincoln was not only wise, but good. He was not only good, but eminently patriotic. He was the most honest man that I ever knew. Religiously, he was an agnostic; but practically, as the responsibilities of his posi tion increased, his devotion to duty increased. So, like the great leaders of all times, he became more conscious of the weakness of Man and the power of God. These sentiments are variously characterized,-with Cyrus it was the gods; with Cæsar and Napoleon it was individuality and destiny; and with Lincoln it grew more and more into a lively belief in the personal government of God. This I inferred not so much from his words as hist acts, and that sad submission to events and close observance of duty which seemed to rise above all human power over events. I think, therefore, that morality and religion gain nothing by a perversion of facts; and the noblest heroism of all the ages has followed close on to Theism. For then are the highest faculties of the mind, and the noblest aspirations of the soul, moving in the same direction to the grandest results of human achievements. Lincoln's death only added to the grandeur of his figure; and in all our history no man will ascend higher on the steep where "Fame's proud temple shines afar." Robert Taylor Conrad. BORN in Philadelphia, Penn., 1810. DIED there, 1858. THE DEATH OF JACK CADE. [Aylmere, or, The Bondman of Kent. A Tragedy. Written for Edwin Forrest, and first produced by him at the Park Theatre, New York, 24 May, 1841.—Aylmere . and Other Poems. 1852.] SCENE: The Guildhall in London. AYLME.E seated at a table. Enter MOWBRAY, WORTHY, and others, with BUCKINGHAM and ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY. BUCK. In the King's name, Lord Mortimer, we come, To ask why thus you fright his peaceful realm With wild rebellion? AYL. Why! You mock us, lords! Are ye so deaf that England's shrieks ye hear not? So blind, ye see not her wan brow sweat blood? BUCK. My lord, if you seek power in this, remember, The greatness which is born in anarchy, And thrown aloft in tumult, cannot last. It mounts, like rocks hurled skywards by volcanoes, You've scourged, and chained, and mocked us; made God's earth A dungeon, and a living grave; and now, When we are free,—our swords in our right hands, Our tyrants shivering at our feet-ye prate Of promised mercy. Hark ye! if you yield not, Better were England made a wild, than be We would have peace, if not too dearly bought. AYL. We're deaf. Say lives! Till he be rendered up, We know no word like peace! BUCK. It is no dream-no dream! We yield thee Say:-what further? AYL. That the king grant this charter to his people. [Unrolling and exhibiting the scroll.] BUCK. What doth it covenant ? AYL. Now can I die in peace!-It frees, moreover, The people from all tyrannous exactions, Taxes, and aids, to feed a rotten court. BUCK. All this,-conditioned you withdraw your host. AYL. A pen, a pen!-I will, my lord—I will. Your name, my Lord Archbishop. [ARCHBISHOP signs.] Yours, my lord. [BUCKINGHAM signs.] BUCK. As you will. [To officer.] Bear this to the tower, and bid My secretary stamp this charter with The great seal of the realm. With him and haste! That hope! that hope!—And when 'Tis done, shout the glad tidings to our host; And bid their hearts and voices tell the heavens, Gentle and joyous. Fierce! You see I laugh! [Sternly.] Thou hadst a bondman once-his name was Cade, A white-haired man? That harmless man was flayed. And thou stoodst by, And saw the red whip pierce his quivering flesh, Until it fell, piecemeal, into the blood That gathered at his feet! You murdered him! SAY. The villain was my bond. A pale boy, struck you down, and spurned you-spurned you AYL. Ay, but forgot you not, though years and troubles SAY. But no! Cade is no bondman! England's sun Is ragged from the lash. Then to the stake! SAY. [aside.] No, never by the torture will I die- SAY. To the damp wall, unlit and cold, we bound her. To calm her, we withheld both food and drink, Till nature sank within her. SAY. 'Tis said the scourge will tame the wildest maniac, They grapple. SAY strikes AYLMERE with his dagger. LACY. [to AYLMERE.] You bleed! SAY. He bleeds? Why then I triumph still! My steel was venomed and its point is fate. [SAY is withdrawn.] AYL. Take down to hell my curse, thou blackest fiend That e'er its gates let forth! Oh, Mariamne! Enter MARIAMNE. MAR. Have I been dreaming? or have I been mad? The smoke that palled my brain Flies from life's deadening embers now away, And leaves me but the ashes. Ha! my Aylmere! [She totters to his arms.] Attend AYL. Thou knowest me? Dost thou not? Now blessings on thee! [AYLMERE stabs Say. |