Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1882-03-03
RIatne's PeroratIon.
GARF1ELD's LIFE AND PATE EIoQUENTLY



On the morning Of Saturday, July 2, the
President was a contented and happy man
not in an ordinary degree but joyfully, al
most boyishly happy. On his way to the rail
road station, TO which he drove slowly, in
conscious enjoyment Of the beautiful morn
| ing, with an unwonted sense Of leisure aud
keen anticipation Of pleasure, his talk was all
in the grateful and gratulatory vein. He felt
that after four months Of trial his admnistra-
ton was strong in its grasp of public affairs,
strong in popular favor, and destined to grow
stronger that grave difficulties confronting
! him at his Inauguration had been safely pass
ed that trouble lay behind him and not be-
fore him that he was soon to meet the wife
! whom he loved now recovering from an ILL.,
ness which had but lately disquieted and at
times almost unnerved him that he was 60
! ing to his alma mater to renew the most cher
ished associations Of his young manhood, and
to exchange greetings with those whose deep
ening interest had followed every step Of his
| upward progress from the day he entered up
on his college course until he had attained
! the loftiest elevation in the gift Of his coun-
| trymen.
! Surely il happiness can ever come from the
| honors or triumphs of this world, on that
| quiet July morning James A. Garfield may
well have been happy man. No foreboding
Of evil haunted him no slightest Fremont
ton of danger clouded his sky. His terrible
fate was upon him in an instant. One mo-
ment he stood erect, strong, confident in the
years stretching peacefully out before him.
| The next he lay wounded, bleeding, helpless,
doomed to weary weeks of torture, to silence,
and the grave.
Great in life, he was surprisingly great in
death. For no cause, in the very frenzy of
| wantonness and wickedness, by the red hand
| Of murder he was thrust from the full tide OF
| this worlds interest, from its hopes, its aspi-
ratons, lis victories, into the visible presence
of death and he did not quail. Not alone
for the short moment in which, stunned and
dazcd, he could give up life, hardly aware Of
| its REIMBURSEMENT, but through days Of dead
ly languor, through weeks of agony, that was
not less agony because silently borne, with
clear sight and calm courage, he looked into
| his open grave. What blight and ruin met
| his anguiahed eyes, whose lips may tell
what brilliant, broken plans, what baflled
| high ambitions. what sundering of strong
warm, manhoods friendships, what bitter
rending of sweet household ties ! Behind him
q proud expectant nation, q great host of
! sustaining friends, a cherished and happy
mother, wearing the full, rich honors Of her
early toll and tears the wife of his youth
whose whole life lay in his the little boys
not yet emerged from childhood's days of
froic the fair, young daughter the sturdy
sons Just sprnging into closest companion
ship, claiming every day and every day re-
warding fathers love and care and in his
heart the eager, rejoicing power TO meet all
demand. Before him, desolation and great
darkness Aud his soul was not shaken
His countrymen were thrilled with instant,
profound ard universal sympathy. Master
full in his mortal weakness, he became the
centre of a nations love, enshrined in the
prayers Of world But all the love and all
| the sympathy could not share with him his
suffering. He trod the wine-press alone.
With unfailing tenderness he took leave of
life. Above the demoniac hiss of the assas-
sins bullet he heard the voice of God. With
simple resignation ne bowed to the divine de-
cree.
As the end drew near, his early craving for
the sea returned The stately mansion of
power had been to him the wearisome hospi-
tai of pain, and he begged to be taken from
it's prison walls, from its oppressive, sitting
air, from its homelessness and its hopeless
ness Gently, silently, the love of a great
people bore the pale sufferer to the longed-
for healing Of the sea, to live or to die, as
| God should will, within sight Of its heaving
| pillows, within sound of its manifold voices.
With wan, fevered face tenderly lifted to the
cooling breeze he looked out wistfully upon
the oceans changing wonders; on its far
sails, whitening in the morning light on its
restless waves, rolling shoreward to break
and die beneath the MONDAY sun; on the
red clouds ofr,evennG -du r6rtfyinS 4t"H----- %
| horizon ,steB. LperIieulFrarchlng low to the
- SER; on the serene and shining pathway
| of the stars. Let us think that his dying
eyes read a mystic meaning which only the
rapt and parting soul may know. Let us be
| lieve that in the silence of the receding world
he heard the great waves breaking on fur
Their shore, and felt already upon his wasted
brow the breath of the eternal morning.