The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1867-10-03
Who Now HamRn.

Two years ago last spring VIC ptOpAe vi LllS
North, wishing to honor man whom they
had been deluded into supposing faithful
citizen and self-sacrfcing patriot, placed
him on that more than royal throne which, in
their modest, home-spun way, they call the
Presidential Chair They honored him for
what he had made them believe he had done
in the past for the bold part which, by his
own showing, he had played in time of great
public peril and for the hope he held out that
as far as in him lay, he would carry out the
work so greatly began by his murdered pre-
decessOr. To believe these things was q blum
der. But however ineXCusable the Dlunder
it was q blindness almost universal Haman
sat on his royal throne, and all OF us
for q time bowed down before him and
reverenced him. Swollen and pulled up with
vanity and conceit as the object Of our
admiration was. we could not see him in his
proper shape. We read everything in the
light of our desires and our faith, and,
though often sadly put to it for a favorable
Interpretation, we remembered his early MUS
tice to Lincoln, and held fast to charity until
charity became foolishness. One by one the
worshippers dropped of, little by little the
incense ceased; but still a crowd throsged the
doors of the palace and listened to the below
ing and raving within as if it were the voice
of an oracle. The Haman whom we had set
in this place of power, with the foolishness Of
his tribe, did not mark those who went away;
he only marked those who stayed; and seeing
a crowd, and hearing a din of Office. holding
shouts, he took it for a unanimous voice Of
approval, and went on from bad to worse.
Vainly confident in his ill-gOt power, he set
no measure to his evil purpose; and, feeling
himself strongly seated, he determined on
playing game of treason such as never had
parallel in the history of the world. But
one keen eye saw through the treachery, and
refused to second the traitor in his wicked
ness. One brave knee refused to bow when
the command went forth; and, when we all
uncapped to the lordly Haman, one high
hearted Mordecai bowed not nor did him
reverence.
And when Haman saw that Mordecai bowed
not, nor did him reverence, then was Haman
full of wrath. Yet he dissembled, and took
gift in his hand and went to him by night, and
offered it to him if he would do him honor.
But Mordecai looked neither to the right nor
to the left, nor answered a wOrd whereat
Haman was more angry than ever, and made
an evil VOW to himself TO destroy this man
from OFF the face of the earth. But he thought
scorn to lay hands on M0rdeeai j., alone, ;,,dH he
decai and make them rue the day when they
had insulted him through their representative.
When Haman's plots were ready, he struck,
and struck home. Blow after blow fell where
ever his keen wicked eye saw a place unprO-
tected. In one great city he set cruel bloody
wretches at work to slay his unsuspecting
enemies shut up in an unprotected building,
and for time he hoped that he had crushed
out the last of those who dared to question his
acts; but when the noise of their dying cries
had ceased, and when the shouting of those
who still upheld him had died away, he heard
the clear voice of MOrdecai calling out from
gate where he sat with covered head and stead
fast eye, "This that thy servants have done is
massacre oh Haman." And Haman's
wrath rose higher and higher, and in his rage
he struck blindly here and there, and he sent
out his servants to do his cruel will wherever
they saw way, and he himself laid hands on
Haman, and would have shamed him in the
sight of the whole people.
But the people, who knew the worth OF
Mordecai and the worthlessness of Haman,
rose as one man, and vowed that Mordecai
should suffer no harm. They put him into
no end of barOuches, and covered him up with
flowers, and swaTmed about his wheels with
shouts and cheers; fair women smiled upon
him, brave men took him in their arms,
| children sprang to greet him. and the blessing
| of the faithful and the true fell over him like
a fruitful rain. Too much honor they were
not afraid to do him, for they had proved his
| worth; they knew that there would be no
really the brave and honorable man that his
| acts had shown him.
AS for Haman, it was a black day for
him when he stood upon the gallows he had
built for Mordecai, with the halter round his
neck, and not a friend in sight but the hang
man, and saw the glad procession wind through
| the streets with banners, and festive lights,
and wreaths of flowers, and the gay hurly
burly of trumpets and Cymbals, with the
shouts Of an adOring people mounting to the
| laughing stars. How he cursed the foolish
spite that had defeated its own ends, and
wished that he had stayed his hand while yet
it was it in his power His history is a per-
| petual moral. 1t is a story wherein tragedy
and comedy are subtly mixed. 1t has now
and then had a parallel in human experience,
but never have the ignorant pride, the spite,
the besotted vanity of the original Haman been
so startlingly recalled as in Andrew Johnson,
/ standing as he does to-day with the halter Of
| popular indignation round his neck, while
| Sheridan, that faithful copy in all its noblest
/ features Of the steadfast and incorruphble
| MOrdecai, rides by in triumph to the victory
he has so well deserved.
Organize.
From he ". Y Tribune