The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1930-04-04

lot for three or four years, almost
without cessation. The tree-feller's
tall body had been attacked from with
in, mined as it were and weakened
here and there; he was laid up for
awhile by modified smallpox, caught
in visit to the front; he complained
that his legs were always cold, but he
would not give way; very rarely in
deed, after a sleepless night, would
he lie down on Welles' sofa, or say
that he was too tired to receive WIS.,
itors. I hardly know how to rest.
1t may be good for the body. But
what is tired in me lies within, and
can't be got at
"As the years went by, the tensions
increased rather than diminished. If
things were going well in the field, he
would be harassed by the violence of
the political factions: when all was
quiet in that quarter, the result would
be decline in recruiting; and if, for
a moment, matters really seemed to be
making progress everywhere, he would
still be perturbed by the mutual
jealousies of the members of the cab
, met or the governors. In addition he
was distressed by the daily sight of
sufferings caused by the war, for hos
pitfalls abounded in Washington, and
the surrounding hills were sprinkled
with tents for the temporary accom-
mediation of the sick and wounded,
while the stretchers seemed to pass
in amending succession whenever the
President went out for air or exercise.
Riding was about his only exercise"
But even this was not safe for once
he was fred upon by hidden assassin.
His horse bolted and quickly bore him
away from the spot and soldier who
went to the place found his hat lying
on the ground with a bullet hole
through the crown. Sometimes after
riding into Washington in the small
hours he would spend the rest of the
night at the White House, writing or
reading, and would ride back to the
Soldiers home when morning came,
depressed in mood. Such depression
was common enough, for Lincoln was
incapable Of taking much delight in
victory or Of feeling hatred for the
enemy, and civil war was doubly dis
tresssing to him, since the enemies
were his brothers. THE war he said
in speech during the last year of his
life, has carried mourning to almost
every home, until it can almost be
said that the heavens are hung in
black ="
Nor did the gloom lift when the end
Of the war finally came and Appomat-
tox silenced the four-year clamor of
the guns. For, as Lincoln looked
back upon those four years, he could
see naught but tragedy-personal as
well as national. "Where, now, Is
Douglas. who had been so full of life
and activity? Where is old friend
Baker? Where are his little boys,
.wilted and persisted like half-open buds
nipped by the frost? Death was grin
ming at him from every corner! Would
history speak of him only as the Lord
Of Death; would history be justly en-
titled to give him such nameT
Such are the thoughts which Lud-
wig puts in his mind as he enters
Fords theater that night of April IA,
Then-the shot, the cry of "Sic sem.
per tyrannis!" the scream of Mary
Lincoln and in little house across
the street the next morning "he dies
at seven o'clock; in a strange bed like
pilgrim, slain on Good Friday like
a prophet" And the tragedy of Abra-
ham Lincoln's whole life was summed
up by his little son, Tad, who when
he stood beside the coffin in the White
House, said Is father in heaven now?
Yesi Then ! am glad, for he was not
really happy here.'s