Joseph C. Sindelar

Augustus St. Gaudens

STATUE OF LINCOLN, LINCOLN PARK, CHICAGO

LINCOLN DAY
ENTERTAINMENTS

RECITATIONS, PLAYS, DIALOGUES, DRILLS,
TABLEAUX, PANTOMIMES, QUOTATIONS,
SONGS, TRIBUTES, STORIES, FACTS

EDITED BY

JOS. C. SINDELAR

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A. FLANAGAN COMPANY

CHICAGO

Copyright, 1908

BY

A. FLANAGAN COMPANY

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PREFACE

IT IS especially fitting to issue this book—in fact, any book on the life and work of Abraham Lincoln—at this time, just preceding the centennial of his birth. Insignificant as the little volume may seem, it will have earned its right to publication if it bring, in whatever small measure, before the growing mind of the country a better realization of the grand life of the noble Lincoln—the loved and martyred President—inspired by God and divinely prepared for a great purpose: to guard and preserve a free and united country.

One hundred years seem but a day! One thousand years hence a deeper feeling will be felt for everything concerning Lincoln, as with each passing year he grows in the affections of the people. His body is dead, but his memory will live in the hearts of the people as long as our country shall cherish freedom and liberty. He was a born king of men, with an intense and yearning love for his fellows and their welfare, which knew neither rank, race, nor creed, but gathered within its boundless charity all mankind.

What a shining xample this simple but sublime life offers to our growing youth! Born of humble parents, surrounded by poverty and hardships such as we seldom encounter today, his rise to the highest position in the gift of the American people—which position he not only ably filled but highly honored—is a grand illustration of persistence and ambition; ambition, though, tempered with foresight and wisdom. His was an exemplary character: a character which for quaint simplicity, earnestness, kindness, truthfulness and purity has never been surpassed among the historic personages of the world. His figure, too, more than any other in the history of our country, illustrates that America is the land of opportunity. In short, to us he is the representative and typical American.

He missed the polish that higher education affords, polish though he needed not. What would not this country, with all its bright and polished men, give today for another man of rugged education, rugged honesty and rugged foresight and wisdom as was Abraham Lincoln? It is hard to measure the usefulness of the life of such a man, yet more hard to do his memory justice. Great qualities of heart and head did he possess, of patience, patriotism, and piety, too. He occupies a unique place in our nation's history. Though most of us never saw him, yet we feel daily the influence of his just and kindly life bound up in the two titles given him by his neighbors and those who knew him well: "Honest Old Abe" and "Father Abraham."

The matter in this book, the only one of its kind published, is intended not only for the entertainment of children but for their instruction also. The contents for the most part is new, much of it having been written especially for the book by Marie Irish, Clara J. Denton, and Laura R. Smith, and some gathered from various sources and adapted by the compiler. It is arranged as nearly as possible under the various headings in degree of difficulty, primary material being placed first.

Grateful acknowledgments are rendered to all magazines, periodicals and books from whose pages selections have been gleaned and without which the book could not have been complete. Proper credit has been given wherever such matter appears. A few selections have been used of which the names of author or publisher are unknown. For these it has been impossible to give proper credit. In cases where unintentional infringements have been made, sincere apologies are tendered.

J. C. S.

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CONTENTS

READINGS, RECITATIONS, QUOTATIONS
		PAGE
Abraham Lincoln	Joel Benton	29
Abraham Lincoln	Susie M. Best	16
Abraham Lincoln	William Cullen Bryant	24
Abraham Lincoln	Alice Cary	24
Abraham Lincoln	James Russell Lowell	30
Abraham Lincoln	R. H. Stoddard	23
Abraham Lincoln	Tom Taylor	35
At Richmond	Clara J. Denton	18
Best Tribute, The	Sidney Dayre	15
Blue and the Gray, The	Francis Miles Finch	39
Death of Lincoln, The	Charles G. Halpin	27
Flag Goes By, The	Henry Holcomb Bennett	20
Grandson of the Veteran, The	Arthur E. Parke	12
Jonathan to John	James Russell Lowell	43
Let Us Be Like Him	Lydia Avery Coonley	14
Like Lincoln	Clara J. Denton	10
Lincoln		11
Lincoln		19
Lincoln	Henry Tyrrell	38
Lincoln: A Man Called of God	John Mellen Thurston	41
Lincoln and the Nestlings	Clara J. Denton	14
Lincoln, the Man of the People	Edwin Markham	34
No Slave Beneath the Flag	George Lansing Taylor	47
O Captain! My Captain!	Walt Whitman	28
Old Flag	Hubbard Parker	22
On the Life-Mask of Abraham Lincoln	Richard Watson Gilder	29
Our Abraham		32
Our Lincoln		10
Quotations from Lincoln		54
Some Heroes		9
Story of Lincoln, The	C. C. Hassler	21
'Tis Splendid to Live So Grandly	Margaret E. Sangster	17
Tributes to Lincoln		48
Was Lincoln King?	Ella M. Bangs	13
Your Flag and My Flag	Wilbur D. Nesbit	26
PLAYS, DIALOGUES, EXERCISES
Captain Lincoln. 5 boys	Clara J. Denton	82
Flag Exercise, A. 8 girls and boys	L. F. Armitage	68
Prophecy, The. 1 girl, 2 boys	Clara J. Denton	77
Savior of Our Flag and Country, The. Whole school	Laura R. Smith	57
With Fife and Drum. 4 girls, 3 boys	Clara J. Denton	88
Wooden Fire-Shovel, The. 3 girls, 2 boys	Clara J. Denton	70
Suggestive Program		102
DRILLS—By Marie Irish
Civil War Daughters. 12 girls		110
Blue and the Gray on the Rappahannock, The. 20 to 40 children		117
Old Glory. 5 girls, 5 boys		103
Star-Spangled Banner, The. 11 children		106
PANTOMIMES—By Marie Irish
America		125
Auld Lang Syne		129
Blue and the Gray, The		128
Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean		131
Home, Sweet Home		132
Star-Spangled Banner, The		123
Swanee Ribber		126
TABLEAUX—By Marie Irish.
Liberty		134
March of Civilization, The		133
Peace		134
Scenes from the Life of Lincoln      The Student, The Laborer, The Emancipator,      The Pardoner, The Martyr.		135
Soldier's Farewell, The		133
When I'm a Man		132
SONGS
Day We Celebrate, The	Clara J. Denton	138
His Name	Clara J. Denton	140
Lincoln Dear	Laura R. Smith and Clarence L. Riege	143
Lincoln's Birthday	Laura R. Smith, F. F. Churchill and Mrs. Clara Grindell	144
Lincoln Song	Clara J. Denton	139
Name We Sing, The	Clara J. Denton	139
Song of Rejoicing, A	Clara J. Denton	141
Sunny Southland, The	Laura R. Smith and Clarence L. Riege	146
When Lincoln Was a Little Boy	Clara J. Denton	137
STORIES AND FACTS
Events in the Life of Abraham Lincoln		158
Gettysburg Address, The		157
Granting a Pardon		149
How They Sang "The Star-Spangled Banner" When Lincoln Was Inaugurated	Thomas Nast	152
Lincoln's Autobiography		150
Lincoln's Favorite Poem		154
Lincoln's Tenderness		148
Why Dummy Clocks Mark 8:18		148

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LINCOLN DAY ENTERTAINMENTS

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READINGS, RECITATIONS, QUOTATIONS

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SOME HEROES

This recitation is intended to be rendered by two little boys. One holds a book and shows the pictures while the other recites.

NOW look, and some pictures of heroes I'll show,
A hero is always a brave man, you know.

Here on this first page is Washington grand,
He fought for our liberty, our free, honored land.

And next we see our loved Lincoln so brave,
You know he gave freedom to each poor old slave.

And here's General Grant! Think what battles he won!
He fought that all States be united as one.

You see all these heroes are both good and great,
And each gave his life for his country and state.

The last is a hero,—now think who 'twill be!
He, too, will be great; now look and see,—Me.

OUR LINCOLN

Our Lincoln, when he was a boy,
Was very tall and slim.
You see I'm just a little tall;
I wonder if I look like him.

Our Lincoln, when he was a boy,
Was very brave and very true.
Today I'm just a little brave;
In this I'm like our Lincoln, too.

Our Lincoln, when he was a man,
Was loved and honored everywhere.
I'll be the man that Lincoln was,
To do this I must now prepare.

LIKE LINCOLN

Clara J. Denton

WHEN I'm a man, a great big man,
Like dear old Abe I'll be.
I mean to follow every plan
To make me good as he.

I'll study well, and tell the truth.
And all my teachers mind;
And I will be to every one,
Like him, so true and kind.

I'll try to live in peace, because
"Quarrels don't pay," said he;
And any rule of "Honest Abe's"
Is good enough for me.

I'll make the best of everything,
And never scold or whine;
That was his way when trouble came,
And so it shall be mine.

I'll be a temperance man, like him.
They say—what do you think!—
He gave some great men at his house,
Just water cold to drink!

He did not muddle up his brains
With any sort of stuff.
And so, I think his way—don't you?
Is plenty good enough.

I may not be a President
If thus my life I plan.
But I'll be something better still:
A good and honest man.

LINCOLN[A]

ONLY a baby, fair and small,
Like many another baby son,
Whose smiles and tears came swift at call,
Who ate, and slept, and grew, that's all,—
The infant Abe Lincoln.

Only a boy like other boys,
With many a task, but little fun,
Fond of his books, though few he had,
By his good mother's death made sad,—
The little Abe Lincoln.

Only a lad, awkward and shy,
Skilled in handling an ax or gun,
Mastering knowledge that, by and by,
Should aid him in duties great and high,—
The youthful Abe Lincoln.

Only a man of finest bent,
A splendid man: a Nation's son,
Rail-splitter, Lawyer, President,
Who served his country and died content,—
The patriot, Abe Lincoln.

Only—ah! what was the secret, then,
Of his being America's honored son?
Why was he famed above other men,
His name upon every tongue and pen,—
The illustrious Abe Lincoln?

A mighty brain, a will to endure,
Kind to all, though a slave to none,
A heart that was brave, and strong, and sure,
A soul that was noble, and great, and pure,
A faith in God that was held secure,—
This was Abraham Lincoln.

[A] With apologies to the unknown writer of the pretty poem Washington, of which this is an adaptation.—Editor.

THE GRANDSON OF THE VETERAN

Arthur E. Parke

I'VE got the finest grandpapa
That ever lived, I b'lieve;
He used to be a soldier boy—
He's got one empty sleeve.

He tells the grandest tales to me,
Of battles that he fought;
Of how he marched, and how he charged,
And how that he got shot.

My papa was a soldier, too;
No battles was he in,
And when I ask him, "Why?", he laughs
And "guesses" he "was tin."

I've tried to understand their talk,
And b'lieve I have it right:
My grandpa licked so many, there
Were none for pa to fight.

—Youth's Companion.

WAS LINCOLN KING?

Ella M. Bangs

WE TALKED of kings, little Ned and I,
As we sat in the firelight's glow;
Of Alfred the Great, in days gone by,
And his kingdom of long ago.

Of Norman William, who, brave and stern,
His armies to victory led.
Then, after a pause, "At school we learn
Of another great man," said Ned.

"And this one was good to the oppressed,
He was gentle and brave, and so
Wasn't he greater than all the rest?
'Twas Abraham Lincoln, you know."

"Was Lincoln a king?" I asked him then,
And in waiting for his reply
A long procession of noble men
Seemed to pass in the firelight by.

When "No" came slowly from little Ned,
And thoughtfully; then, with a start,
"He wasn't a king—outside," he said,
"But I think he was in his heart."

LET US BE LIKE HIM[B]

Lydia Avery Coonley

WHEN we think of Abraham Lincoln
Then the angel voices call,
Saying: Try to be just like him!
Be as noble, one and all.

Be as truthful, as unselfish;
Be as pure, as good, as kind;
Be as honest; never flatter;
Give to God your heart and mind.

Seek not praise, but do your duty,
Love the right and work for it;
Then the world will be the better
Because you have lived in it.

[B] From Lincoln and Washington, by Marian M. George and Lydia Avery Coonley. Copyrighted and published by A. Flanagan Company. Price, twenty-five cents.

LINCOLN AND THE NESTLINGS

Clara J. Denton

I'VE heard the beautiful stories
Of Lincoln so great and so good.
He helped all people in trouble,
And their grief so well understood;
To many sad tales he listened,
Of heart-broken mothers and wives;
And pausing 'mid all his worries,
Once more he brought hope to their lives.

Dearer than all other stories,
Is this little one of the day
When he, with his friends, was riding
On horseback along the roadway;
There, in the dust, by a tree, he found
One little bird, then another,
From their nest the wind had blown them,
And he was hunting for their mother.

When at last he found the nest, and
In it the birdies laid,
'Mid the party's merry laughter
His heart was glad, his manner grave:
"Seems to me," he said, "I couldn't
Tonight in bed with ease have slept
Had I left those creatures suffer
And not restored them to their nest."

Wonderful heart; ever tender—
Tender, yet just, with the rest.
I think among all the stories,
This shows his true nature the best.

THE BEST TRIBUTE

Sidney Dayre

MY GRANDPA was a soldier. They tell about the day
He said his very last good-by and bravely marched away,
With flying flags and bayonets all gleaming in the sun.
They never saw him march back when all the war was done.

They brought him here and laid him where I can always bring
The very brightest flowers that blossom in the spring;
But sweeter far than flowers, as every one can tell,
Is the memory of the soldiers who loved their country well.

I wish I could be like him—to try with all my might
And do my loyal service for honor and for right
And victory and glory! But children now, you know,
Have never any chance at all to war against a foe.

And as I think upon it, the best that we can do
To show our love and honor for a hero brave and true,
Is to resolve together always to be brave,
To live our very noblest in the land he died to save.

ABRAHAM LINCOLN

Susie M. Best

'MID the names that fate has written
On the deathless scroll of fame,
We behold the name of Lincoln,
Shining like a living flame.

'Mid the deeds the world remembers,
(Deeds by dauntless heroes done),
We behold the deeds of Lincoln,
Blazing like a brilliant sun.

'Mid the lives whose light illumines
History's dark and dreadful page,
We behold the life of Lincoln,
Lighting up an awful age.

When the storm of peril threatened
His loved land to overwhelm,
Safe the ship of state he guided,
With his hand upon the helm.

Statesman, ruler, hero, martyr—
Fitting names for him, I say,
Wherefore, let us all as brothers,
Love his memory today.

'TIS SPLENDID TO LIVE SO GRANDLY[C]
Margaret E. Sangster

'TIS splendid to live so grandly
That, long after you are gone,
The things you did are remembered,
And recounted under the sun;
To live so bravely and purely
That a nation stops on its way,
And once a year, with banner and drum,
Keeps the thoughts of your natal day.

'Tis splendid to have a record,
So white and free from stain,
That, held to the light, it shows no blot,
Though tested and tried again;
That age to age forever
Repeats its story of love,
And your birthday lives in a nation's heart
All other days above.

And this is our Lincoln's glory,
A steadfast soul and true,
Who stood for his country's union,
When his country called him to.
And now that we once more are one,
And our flag of stars is flung
To the breeze in defiant challenge,
His name is on every tongue.

Yes, it's splendid to live so bravely,
To be so great and strong,
That your memory is ever a tocsin
To rally the foes of the wrong;
To live so proudly and purely
That your people pause in their way,
And year by year, with banner and drum,
Keep the thoughts of your natal day.

[C] Adapted by the editor from the author's excellent tribute to Washington. The poem is equally true to the character and work of Lincoln as well as the love for him.

AT RICHMOND
Clara J. Denton

WE HAVE read the stories glowing,
Found in annals of old,
Of mighty conquerers marching,
With cohorts strong and bold:

We see the proud monarch, riding
In grand and lofty state,
We hear the clamor, extolling
His skill and prowess great.

But, grander by far the vision
Modern annals unclose:
Through the burning streets of Richmond
Walks Lincoln 'mong his foes.

Though no pride of state surrounds him,
On every side we hear:
"Foh Marsa Linkum, bress de Lawd."
"De Sabiour now am near."

"O, honey chile, jes' tech him once!"
"Suah heben is 'mos' nigh."
"I's on de mount, O, Gawd, I is."
"Dis niggah now kin die."

O, the poor untutored negroes!
And yet I am sure, to him
Before those cries of joy and love
Earth's brightest gauds grew dim.

And, I think, his heart that morning
A throb exultant gave;
For never more his countrymen
Could know the name of slave!

LINCOLN

FROM out the strong young west he came
In those warlike days of yore,
When Freedom's cry had reached the sky
And rung from shore to shore.

He knew the world was watching him,
He heard the words of scorn,
He felt the weight of a severed State
By cruel rebellion torn.

But calling on Jehovah,
He seized his mighty pen
And with a stroke, the chains he broke
From a million bonded men.

He was a dauntless leader
As among the host he moved,
And he gave his life in the time of strife
To save the cause he loved.

THE FLAG GOES BY
Henry Holcomb Bennett

HATS off!
Along the street there comes
A blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums,
A flash of color beneath the sky;
Hats off!
The flag is passing by!

Blue and crimson and white it shines,
Over the steel-tipped, ordered lines.
Hats off!
The colors before us fly;
But more than the flag is passing by:

Sea fights and land fights, grim and great,
Fought to make and save the State;
Weary marches and sinking ships;
Cheers of victory on dying lips;

Days of plenty and years of peace;
March of a strong land's swift increase;
Equal justice, right, and law,
Stately honor and reverend awe;

Sign of a nation, great and strong
To ward her people from foreign wrong;
Pride and glory and honor,—all
Live in the colors to stand or fall.

Hats off!
Along the street there comes
A blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums;
And loyal hearts are beating high.
Hats off!
The flag is passing by!

THE STORY OF LINCOLN
C. C. Hassler

TELL to the boys the story of Lincoln,
Tell it to them when early in youth,
Tell of his struggles for knowledge to fit him,
Guide him thro' manhood in honored truth.

Tell them of Lincoln; yes, tell them the story,
None more worthy of honor than he;
None was more proud of our national glory;
None was more true to the flag of the free.

Tell to the boys the story of Lincoln;
Tell of his loyalty, tell of his hate—
Not toward men, but the infamous measures
False to the nation, the home and the state.

Tell them; yes, tell them, his highest ambition
Was of all men in the nation to stand
Close to the hearts of the people who loved him—
Loved him and chose him to rule in the land.

Tell to the boys the sad story of Lincoln;
Tell of his trials when traitors defied
And spurned the old flag; how the nation's defenders
At his call rallied and sprang to his side;

Tell how he suffered when news of the battle
Told of disaster, of wounded and dead;
Tell how his great noble heart was oft gladdened
When as proud victors our armies were led.

Tell them; yes, tell them the story and point them
Up to a standard he would applaud;
Loyal in life to the state and the nation,
True to one country, one flag and one God.

OLD FLAG
Hubbard Parker

WHAT shall I say to you, Old Flag?
You are so grand in every fold,
So linked with mighty deeds of old,
So steeped in blood where heroes fell,
So torn and pierced by shot and shell,
So calm, so still, so firm, so true,
My throat swells at the sight of you,
Old Flag.

What of the men who lifted you, Old Flag,
Upon the top of Bunker Hill,
Who crushed the Britons' cruel will,
'Mid shock and roar and crash and scream,
Who crossed the Delaware's frozen stream,
Who starved, who fought, who bled, who died,
That you might float in glorious pride,
Old Flag?

What of the women brave and true, Old Flag,
Who, while the cannon thundered wild,
Sent forth a husband, lover, child,
Who labored in the field by day,
Who, all the night long, knelt to pray,
And thought that God great mercy gave,
If only freely you might wave,
Old Flag?

What is your mission now, Old Flag?
What but to set all people free,
To rid the world of misery,
To guard the right, avenge the wrong,
And gather in one joyful throng
Beneath your folds in close embrace
All burdened ones of every race,
Old Flag.

Right nobly do you lead the way, Old Flag.
Your stars shine out for liberty,
Your white stripes stand for purity,
Your crimson claims that courage high
For honor's sake to fight and die.
Lead on against the alien shore!
We'll follow you, e'en to Death's door,
Old Flag!

ABRAHAM LINCOLN
R. H. Stoddard

THIS man whose homely face you look upon,
Was one of Nature's masterful, great men;
Born with strong arms that unfought victories won,
Direct of speech, and cunning with the pen,
Chosen for large designs, he had the art
Of winning with his humor, and he went
Straight to his mark, which was the human heart;
Wise, too, for what he could not break he bent.
Upon his back a more than Atlas' load
The burden of the Commonwealth was laid;
He stooped, and rose up with it, though the road
Shot suddenly downwards, not a whit dismayed.
Hold, warriors, councillors, kings! All now give place
To this dead Benefactor of the Race!

ABRAHAM LINCOLN
William Cullen Bryant

This ode was written for the Funeral Services held in New York City.

OH, SLOW to smite and swift to spare,
Gentle and merciful and just!
Who in the fear of God, didst bear
The sword of power, a nation's trust.

In sorrow by thy bier we stand
Amid the awe that husheth all,
And speak the anguish of a land
That shook with horror at thy fall.

Thy task is done; the bonds are free;
We bear thee to an honored grave,
Whose proudest monument shall be
The broken fetters of the slave.

Pure was thy life; its bloody close
Has placed thee with the Sons of Light,
Among the noble host of those
Who perished in the cause of Right.

ABRAHAM LINCOLN
Alice Cary

INSCRIBED TO "PUNCH"

NO GLITTERING chaplet brought from other lands!
As in his life, this man, in death, is ours;
His own loved prairies o'er his "gaunt, gnarled hands"
Have fitly drawn their sheet of summer flowers!

What need hath he now of a tardy crown,
His name from mocking jest and sneer to save?
When every ploughman turns his furrow down
As soft as though it fell upon his grave.

He was a man whose like the world again
Shall never see, to vex with blame or praise;
The landmarks that attest his bright, brief reign
Are battles, not the pomps of gala days!

The grandest leader of the grandest war
That ever time in history gave a place;
What were the tinsel flattery of a star
To such a breast! or what a ribbon's grace!

'Tis to th' man, and th' man's honest worth,
The nation's loyalty in tears upsprings;
Through him the soil of labor shines henceforth
High o'er the silken broideries of kings.

The mechanism of external forms—
The shrifts that courtiers put their bodies through,
Were alien ways to him—his brawny arms
Had other work than posturing to do!

Born of the people, well he knew to grasp
The wants and wishes of the weak and small;
Therefore we hold him with no shadowy clasp—
Therefore his name is household to us all.

Therefore we love him with a love apart
From any fawning love of pedigree—
His was the royal soul and mind and heart—
Not the poor outward shows of royalty.

Forgive us then, O friends, if we are slow
To meet your recognition of his worth—
We're jealous of the very tears that flow
From eyes that never loved a humble hearth.

YOUR FLAG AND MY FLAG

Wilbur D. Nesbit

YOUR Flag and my Flag,
And how it flies today
In your land and my land
And half the world away!
Rose-red and blood-red
The stripes forever gleam;
Snow-white and soul-white—
The good forefather's dream;
Sky-blue and true-blue, with stars to gleam aright—
The gloried guidon of the day; a shelter through the night.

Your Flag and my Flag!
And, oh, how much it holds—
Your land and my land—
Secure within its folds!
Your heart and my heart
Beat quicker at the sight;
Sun-kissed and wind-tossed,
Red and blue and white.
The one Flag—the great Flag—the Flag for me and you—
Glorified all else beside—the red and white and blue!

Your Flag and my Flag!
To every star and stripe
The drums beat as hearts beat
And fifers shrilly pipe!
Your Flag and my Flag—
A blessing in the sky;
Your hope and my hope—
It never hid a lie!
Home land and far land and half the world around,
Old Glory hears our glad salute and ripples to the sound!

THE DEATH OF LINCOLN

Charles G. Halpin

HE FILLED the nation's eye and heart,
An honored, loved, familiar name,
So much a brother that his fame
Seemed of our lives a common part.

His towering figure, sharp and spare,
Was with such nervous tension strung,
As if on each strained sinew swung
The burden of a people's care.

He was his country's, not his own;
He had no wish but for her weal;
Not for himself could think or feel,
But as a laborer for her throne.

O, loved and lost! thy patient toil
Had robed our cause in Victory's light;
Our country stood redeemed and bright,
With not a slave on all her soil.

A martyr to the cause of man,
His blood is freedom's eucharist,
And in the world's great hero list,
His name shall lead the van.

O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN!

Walt Whitman

Abraham Lincoln was killed by John Wilkes Booth, almost exactly four years after the first shot was fired at Fort Sumter. This song and Edwin Markham's poem on Lincoln are two of the greatest tributes ever paid to that hero.

O CAPTAIN! my Captain! Our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead!

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here, Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck
You've fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

ABRAHAM LINCOLN

Joel Benton

SOME opulent force of genius, soul, and race,
Some deep life-current from far centuries
Flowed to his mind and lighted his sad eyes,
And gave his name, among great names, high place.

But these are miracles we may not trace,
Nor say why from a source and lineage mean
He rose to grandeur never dreamt or seen
Or told on the long scroll of history's space.

The tragic fate of one broad hemisphere
Fell on stern days to his supreme control,
All that the world and liberty held dear
Pressed like a nightmare on his patient soul.

Martyr beloved, on whom, when life was done,
Fame looked, and saw another Washington!

ON THE LIFE-MASK OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN

Richard Watson Gilder

THIS bronze doth keep the very form and mold
Of our great martyr's face. Yes, this is he:
That brow all wisdom, all benignity;
That human humorous mouth; those cheeks that hold
Like some harsh landscape all the summer's gold;
That spirit fit for sorrow, as the sea
For storms to beat on; the lone agony
Those silent, patient lips too well foretold.
Yes, this is he who ruled a world of men
As might some prophet of the elder day—
Brooding above the tempest and the fray
With deep-eyed thought and more than mortal ken.
A power was his beyond the touch of art
Or armed strength—his pure and mighty heart.

ABRAHAM LINCOLN

James Russell Lowell

This is a fragment of the noble Commemoration Ode delivered at Harvard College to the memory of those of its students who fell in the war which kept the country whole.

SUCH was he, our Martyr-Chief,
Whom late the Nation he had led,
With ashes on her head,
Wept with the passion of an angry grief:
Forgive me, if from present things I turn
To speak what in my heart will beat and burn,
And hang my wreath on this world-honored urn.
Nature, they say, doth dote,
And cannot make a man
Save on some worn-out plan,
Repeating us by rote:
For him her Old-World moulds aside she threw,
And, choosing sweet clay from the breast
Of the unexhausted West,
With stuff untainted shaped a hero new,
Wise, steadfast in the strength of God, and true.
How beautiful to see
Once more a shepherd of mankind indeed,
Who loved his charge, but never loved to lead;
One whose meek flock the people joyed to be,
Not lured by any cheat of birth,
But by his clear-grained human worth,
And brave old wisdom of sincerity!
They knew that outward grace is dust;
They could not choose but trust
In that sure-footed mind's unfaltering skill,
And supple-tempered will
That bent like perfect steel to spring again and thrust.
His was no lonely mountain-peak of mind,
Thrusting to thin air o'er our cloudy bars,
A sea-mark now, now lost in vapors blind;
Broad prairie rather, genial, level-lined,
Fruitful and friendly for all human kind,
Yet also nigh to heaven and loved of loftiest stars.

* * * * *

I praise him not; it were too late;
And some innative weakness there must be
In him who condescends to victory
Such as the Present gives, and cannot wait,
Safe in himself as in a fate.
So always firmly he:
He knew to bide his time,
And can his fame abide,
Still patient in his simple faith sublime,
Till the wise years decide.
Great captains, with their guns and drums,
Disturb our judgment for the hour,
But at last silence comes;
These all are gone, and, standing like a tower,
Our children shall behold his fame.
The kindly-earnest, brave, foreseeing man,
Sagacious, patient, dreading praise, not blame,
New birth of our new soil, the first American.

OUR ABRAHAM

OUT of the mellow West there came
A man whom neither praise nor blame
Could gild or tarnish; one who rose
With fate-appointed swiftness far
Above his friends, above his foes;
Whose life shone like a splendid star,
To fill his people's hearts with flame;
Who never sought for gold or fame;
But gave himself without a price—
A willing, humble sacrifice—
An erring Nation's Paschal Lamb—
The great, gaunt, patient Abraham.

I never saw his wrinkled face,
Where tears and smiles disputed place;
I never touched his homely hand,
That seemed in benediction raised,
E'en when it emphasized command,
What time the fires of battle blazed,
The hand that signed the act of grace
Which freed a wronged and tortured race;
And yet I feel that he is mine—
My country's; and that light divine
Streams from the saintly oriflamme
Of great, gaunt, patient Abraham.

He was our standard-bearer; he
Caught up the thread of destiny,
And round the breaking Union bound
And wove it firmly. To his task
He rose gigantic; nor could sound
Of menace daunt him. Did he ask
For homage when glad Victory
Followed his flags from sea to sea?
Nay, but he staunched the wounds of war;
And you owe all you have and are—
And I owe all I have and am
To great, gaunt, patient Abraham.

The pillars of our temple rocked
Beneath the mighty wind that shocked
Foundations that the fathers laid;
But he upheld the roof and stood
Fearless, while others were afraid;
His sturdy strength and faith were good,
While coward knees together knocked,
And traitor hands the door unlocked,
To let the unbeliever in.
He bore the burden of our sin,
While the rebel voices rose to damn
The great, gaunt, patient Abraham.

And then he died a martyr's death—
Forgiveness in his latest breath,
And peace upon his dying lips.
He died for me; he died for you;
Heaven help us if his memory slips
Out of our hearts! His soul was true
And clean and beautiful. What saith
Dull history that reckoneth
But coldly? That he was a man
Who loved his fellows as few can;
And that he hated every sham—
Our great, gaunt, patient Abraham.

Majestic, sweet, was Washington;
And Jefferson was like the sun—
He glorified the simplest thing
He touched; and Andrew Jackson seems
The impress of a fiery king
To leave upon us: these in dreams
Are oft before us; but the one
Whose vast work was so simply done—
The Lincoln of our war-tried years—
Has all our deepest love; in tears,
We chant the In Memoriam
Of great, gaunt, patient Abraham.

LINCOLN, THE MAN OF THE PEOPLE[D]

Edwin Markham

This poem, which is considered one of the two best tributes ever paid to Lincoln, the other being Walt Whitman's O Captain! My Captain! is a tremendously virile and earnest summing up of the meaning of the man (Lincoln) and his life; a lesson in patriotism and a masterful piece of hero worship.

WHEN the Norn-Mother saw the Whirlwind Hour
Greatening and darkening as it hurried on,
She left the Heaven of Heroes and came down
To make a man to meet the mortal need.
She took the tried clay of the common road—
Clay warm yet with the genial heat of Earth,
Dashed through it all a strain of prophecy;
Tempered the heap with thrill of mortal tears;
Then mixed a laughter with the serious stuff.
It was a stuff to hold against the world,
A man to match our mountains, and compel
The stars to look our way and honor us.

The color of the ground was in him, the red earth;
The tang and odor of the primal things;
The rectitude and patience of the rocks;
The gladness of the wind that shakes the corn;
The courage of the bird that dares the sea;
The justice of the rain that loves all leaves;
The pity of the snow that hides all scars;
The loving-kindness of the wayside well;
The tolerance and equity of light
That gives as freely to the shrinking weed
As to the great oak flaring to the wind—
To the grave's low hill as to the Matterhorn
That shoulders out the sky.

And so he came.
From prairie cabin up to Capitol,
One fair Ideal led our chieftain on.
Forevermore he burned to do his deed
With the fine stroke and gesture of a king.
He built the rail-pile as he built the State,
Pouring his splendid strength through every blow,
The conscience of him testing every stroke,
To make his deed the measure of a man.

So came the Captain with the mighty heart;
And when the step of Earthquake shook the house,
Wrenching the rafters from their ancient hold,
He held the ridgepole up, and spiked again
The rafters of the Home. He held his place—
Held the long purpose like a growing tree—
Held on through blame and faltered not at praise.
And when he fell in whirlwind, he went down
As when a kingly cedar green with boughs
Goes down with a great shout upon the hills,
And leaves a lonesome place against the sky.

[D] From Lincoln and Other Poems by Edwin Markham. By permission of The McClure Company and the author. Copyright, 1901, by Edwin Markham.

This poem was revised by Mr. Markham especially for use in this book. Copyright, 1908, by Edwin Markham. Reprinting in whatever form is expressly forbidden, unless through special permission of the author.

ABRAHAM LINCOLN

Tom Taylor[E]

YOU lay a wreath on murdered Lincoln's bier,
You, who with mocking pencil wont to trace,
Broad for the self-complacent British sneer,
His length of shambling limb, his furrowed face,
His gaunt, gnarled hands, his unkempt, bristling hair,
His garb uncouth, his bearing ill at ease,
His lack of all we prize as debonair,
Of power or will to shine, of art to please.

You, whose smart pen backed up the pencil's laugh,
Judging each step as though the way were plain:
Reckless, so it could point its paragraph
Of chief's perplexity, or people's pain.
Beside this corpse that bears for winding-sheet
The Stars and Stripes he lived to rear anew,
Between the mourner at his head and feet,
Say, scurril-jester, is there room for you?
Yes! He had lived to shame me from my sneer,
To lame my pencil and confute my pen;
To make me own this hind of princes peer,
This rail-splitter, a true-born king of men.
My shallow judgment I had learned to rue,
Noting how to occasion's height he rose,
How his quaint wit made home truth seem more true,
How, iron-like, his temper grew by blows.

How humble, yet how hopeful, he could be:
How in good fortune and in ill the same:
Nor bitter in success, nor boastful he,
Thirsty for gold, nor feverish for fame.
He went about his work—such work as few
Ever had laid on head and heart and hand—
As one who knows, where there's a task to do,
Man's honest will must Heaven's good grace command;
Who trusts the strength will with the burden grow,
That God makes instruments to work His will,
If but that will we can arrive to know,
Nor tamper with the weights of good and ill.
So he went forth to battle, on the side
That he felt clear was Liberty's and Right's,
As in his peasant boyhood he had plied
His warfare with rude Nature's thwarting mights—
The uncleared forest, the unbroken soil,
The iron-bark, that turns the lumberer's axe,
The rapid that o'erbears the boatman's toil,
The prairie hiding the mazed wanderer's tracks,
The ambushed Indian, and the prowling bear—
Such were the deeds that helped his youth to train:
Rough culture—but such trees large fruit may bear,
If but their stocks be of right girth and grain.

So he grew up a destined work to do,
And lived to do it: four long-suffering years.
Ill-fate, ill-feeling, ill-report lived through,
And then he heard the hisses changed to cheers,
The taunts to tribute, the abuse to praise,
And took both with the same unwavering mood:

Till, as he came on light, from darkling days
And seemed to touch the goal from where he stood,
A felon hand, between the goal and him,
Reached from behind his back, a trigger prest,
And those perplexed and patient eyes were dim,
Those gaunt, long-laboring limbs were laid to rest!
The words of mercy were upon his lips,
Forgiveness in his Heart and on his pen,
When this vile murderer brought swift eclipse
To thoughts of peace on earth, good will to men.

The Old World and the New, from sea to sea,
Utter one voice of sympathy and shame.
Sore heart, so stopped when it at last beat high!
Sad life, cut short just as its triumph came!
A deed accurst! Strokes have been struck before
By the assassin's hand, whereof men doubt
If more of horror or disgrace they bore;
But thy foul crime, like Cain's, stands darkly out,
Vile hand, that brandest murder on a strife,
Whate'er its grounds, stoutly and nobly striven,
And with the martyr's crown crownest a life
With much to praise, little to be forgiven.

LINCOLN

Henry Tyrrell

LINCOLN arose! the masterful, great man,
Girt with rude grandeur, quelling doubt and fear,—
A more than king, yet in whose veins there ran
The red blood of the people, warm, sincere,
Blending of Puritan and Cavalier.
A will whose force stern warriors came to ask,
A heart that melted at a mother's tear—
These brought he to his superhuman task:
Over a tragic soul he wore a comic mask.

He was the South's child more than of the North!
His soul was not compact of rock and snow,
But such as old Kentucky's soil gives forth,—
The splendid race of giants that we know,
Firm unto friend, and loyal unto foe,
Such birthrights all environment forestall,
Resistlessly their tides of impulse flow.
This man who answered to his country's call
Was full of human faults, and nobler for them all.

He is a life, and not a legend, yet:
For thousands live who shook him by the hand,
Millions whose sympathies with his were set,
Whose hopes and griefs alike with his were grand,
Who deeply mourned his passing. They demand
Our homage to the greatest man they saw,—
They, his familiars; and throughout our land
The years confirm them, over race and law:
Even of rancor now the voice is hush'd in awe.

THE BLUE AND THE GRAY

Francis Miles Finch

The women of Columbus, Mississippi, had shown themselves impartial in the offerings made to the memory of the dead. They strewed flowers alike on the graves of the Confederates and of the National soldiers.

BY THE flow of the inland river,
Whence the fleets of iron have fled,
Where the blades of the grave-grass quiver,
Asleep are the ranks of the dead;
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day;
Under the one, the Blue;
Under the other, the Gray.

These in the robings of glory,
Those in the gloom of defeat;
All with the battle-blood gory,
In the dusk of eternity meet;
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day;
Under the laurel, the Blue;
Under the willow, the Gray.

From the silence of sorrowful hours,
The desolate mourners go,
Lovingly laden with flowers,
Alike for the friend and the foe;
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day;
Under the roses, the Blue;
Under the lilies, the Gray.

So, with an equal splendor,
The morning sun-rays fall,
With a touch impartially tender,
On the blossoms blooming for all;
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day;
Broidered with gold, the Blue,
Mellowed with gold, the Gray.

So, when the summer calleth,
On forest and field of grain,
With an equal murmur falleth
The cooling drip of the rain;
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day;
Wet with the rain, the Blue;
Wet with the rain, the Gray.

Sadly, but not with upbraiding,
The generous deed was done;
In the storm of the years that are fading,
No braver battle was won;
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day;
Under the blossoms, the Blue;
Under the garlands, the Gray.

No more shall the war cry sever,
Or the winding rivers be red;
They banish our anger forever,
When they laurel the graves of our dead.
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day;
Love and tears for the Blue,
Tears and love for the Gray.

LINCOLN: A MAN CALLED OF GOD

John Mellen Thurston

Extract from an address delivered before the Chicago Lincoln Association, February 12, 1891.

GOD'S providence has raised up a leader in every time of a people's exceeding need.

Moses, reared in the family of Pharaoh, initiated in the sublime mysteries of the priestcraft of Egypt, partaking of the power and splendor of royal family and favor, himself a ruler and almost a king, was so moved by the degraded and helpless condition of his enslaved brethren that for their sake he undertook what to human understanding seemed the impossible problem of deliverance....

A peasant girl, a shepherdess, dreaming on the hills of France, feels her simple heart burn with the story of her country's wrongs. Its army beaten, shattered and dispersed; its fields laid waste; its homes pillaged and burned; its people outraged and murdered; its prince fleeing for life before a triumphant and remorseless foe. Hope for France was dead. Heroes, there were none to save. What could a woman do?

Into the soul of this timid, unlettered mountain maid there swept a flood of glorious resolve. Some power, unknown to man, drew back the curtain from the glass of fate and bade her look therein. As in a vision, she sees a new French army, courageous, hopeful, victorious, invincible. A girl, sword in hand, rides at its head; before it the invaders flee. She sees France restored, her fields in bloom, her cottages in peace, her people happy, her prince crowned.

The rail-splitter of Illinois became President of the United States in the darkest hour of the nation's peril. Inexperienced and untrained in governmental affairs, he formulated national politics, overruled statesmen, directed armies, removed generals, and, when it became necessary to save the Republic, set at naught the written Constitution. He amazed the politicians and offended the leaders of his party; but the people loved him by instinct, and followed him blindly. The child leads the blind man through dangerous places, not by reason of controlling strength and intelligence, but by certainty of vision. Abraham Lincoln led the nation along its obscure pathway, for his vision was above the clouds, and he stood in the clear sunshine of God's indicated will.

So stands the mountain while the murky shadows thicken at its base, beset by the tempest, lashed by the storm, darkness and desolation on every side; no gleam of hope in the lightning's lurid lances, nor voice of safety in the crashing thunder-bolts; but high above the top-most mist, vexed by no wave of angry sound, kissed by the sun of day, wooed by the stars at night, the eternal summit lifts its snowy crest, crowned with the infinite serenity of peace.

"And God said—let there be light, and there was light." Light on the ocean, light on the land.

"And God said—let there be light, and there was light." Light from the cross of calvary, light from the souls of men.

"And God said—let there be light, and there was light'." Light from the emancipation proclamation, light on the honor of the nation, light on the Constitution of the United States, light on the black faces of patient bondmen, light on every standard of freedom throughout the world.

From the hour in which the cause of the Union became the cause of liberty, from the hour in which the flag of the Republic became the flag of humanity, from the hour in which the stars and stripes no longer floated over a slave; yea, from the sacred hour of the nation's new birth, that dear old banner never faded from the sky, and the brave boys who bore it never wavered in their onward march to victory....

After a quarter of a century of peace and prosperity, all children of our common country kneel at the altar of a reunited faith. The Blue and Gray lie in eternal slumber side by side. Heroes all, they fell face to face, brother against brother, to expiate a nation's sin. The lonely firesides and the unknown graves, the memory of the loved, the yearning for the lost, the desolated altars and the broken hopes, are past recall. The wings of our weak protests beat in vain against the iron doors of fate. But through the mingled tears that fall alike upon the honored dead of both, the North and South turn hopeful eyes to that new future of prosperity and power, possible only in the shelter of the dear old flag. To the conquerors and the conquered, to the white man and the black, to the master and the slave, Abraham Lincoln was God's providence.

JONATHAN TO JOHN

James Russell Lowell

This poetic effusion of Mr. Hosea Biglow was preceded by the Idyl of the Bridge and the Monument, which set forth another side of American feeling at the British words and deeds consequent on the unauthorized capture, by Commodore Wilkes, of the Trent, conveying to England two Confederate Commissioners.

IT DON'T seem hardly right, John,
When both my hands was full,
To stump me to a fight, John—
Your cousin, tu, John Bull!
Ole Uncle S., sez he, "I guess
We know it now," sez he,
"The lion's paw is all the law,
Accordin' to J. B.,
Thet's fit for you an' me!"

You wonder why we're hot, John?
Your mark wuz on the guns,
The neutral guns, thet shot, John,
Our brothers an' our sons:
Ole Uncle S., sez he, "I guess
There's human blood," sez he,
"By fits an' starts, in Yankee hearts,
Though 't may surprise J. B.
More'n it would you an' me."

Ef I turned mad dogs loose, John,
On your front-parlor stairs,
Would it jest meet your views, John,
To wait and sue their heirs?
Ole Uncle S., sez he, "I guess,
I only guess," sez he,
"Thet ef Vattel on his toes fell,
'T would kind o' rile J. B.,
Ez wal ez you an' me!"

Who made the law thet hurts, John,
Heads I win,—ditto tails?
"J. B." was on his shirts, John,
Onless my memory fails.
Ole Uncle S., sez he, "I guess
(I'm good at thet)," sez he,
"Thet sauce for goose ain't jest the juice
For ganders with J. B.,
No more than you or me!"

When your rights was our wrongs, John,
You didn't stop for fuss,—
Britanny's trident prongs, John,
Was good 'nough law for us.
Ole Uncle S., sez he, "I guess,
Though physic's good," sez he,
"It doesn't foller that he can swaller
Prescriptions signed 'J. B.,'
Put up by you an' me!"

We own the ocean, tu, John:
You mus'n' take it hard,
If we can't think with you, John,
It's jest your own back-yard.
Ole Uncle S., sez he, "I guess,
If thet's his claim," sez he,
"The fencin'-stuff 'll cost enough
To bust up friend J. B.,
Ez wal ez you an' me!"

Why talk so dreffle big, John,
Of honor when it meant
You didn't care a fig, John,
But jest for ten per cent?
Ole Uncle S., sez he, "I guess
He's like the rest," sez he:
"When all is done, it's number one
Thet's nearest to J. B.,
Ez wal ez you an' me!"

We give the critters back, John,
Cos Abram thought 't was right;
It warn't your bullyin' clack, John,
Provokin' us to fight.
Ole Uncle S., sez he, "I guess
We've a hard row," sez he,
"To hoe jest now; but thet somehow,
May happen to J. B.,
Ez wal ez you an' me!"

We ain't so weak an' poor, John,
With twenty million people,
An' close to every door, John,
A school-house an' a steeple.
Ole Uncle S., sez he, "I guess
It is a fact," sez he,
"The surest plan to make a Man
Is, think him so, J. B.,
Ez much ez you an' me!"

Our folks believe in Law, John;
An' it's for her sake, now,
They've left the ax an' saw, John,
The anvil an' the plough.
Ole Uncle S., sez he, "I guess,
Ef 't warn't for law," sez he,
"There'd be one shindy from here to Indy;
An' thet don't suit J. B.
(When 't ain't twixt you an' me!)"

We know we've got a cause, John,
Thet's honest, just an' true;
We thought 't would win applause, John,
Ef nowheres else, from you.
Ole Uncle S., sez he, "I guess
His love of right," sez he,
"Hangs by a rotten fibre o' cotton:
There's nature in J. B.,
Ez wal ez you an' me!"

The South says, "Poor folks down!" John,
An' "All men up!" say we,—
White, yaller, black, an' brown, John:
Now which is your idee?
Ole Uncle S., sez he, "I guess,
John preaches wal," sez he;
"But, sermon thru, an' come to du,
Why, there's the old J. B.
A crowdin' you an' me!"

Shall it be love, or hate, John,
It's you thet's to decide;
Ain't your bonds held by Fate, John,
Like all the world's beside?
Ole Uncle S., sez he, "I guess
Wise men forgive," sez he,
"But not forget; an' some time yet
Thet truth may strike J. B.,
Ez wal ez you an me!"

God means to make this land, John,
Clear thru, from sea to sea,
Believe an' understand, John,
The wuth o' bein' free.
Ole Uncle S., sez he, "I guess,
God's price is high," sez he:
"But nothin' else than wut He sells
Wears long, an' thet J. B.
May larn, like you an' me!"

NO SLAVE BENEATH THE FLAG

George Lansing Taylor

NO SLAVE beneath that starry flag,
The emblem of the free!
No fettered hand shall wield the brand
That smites for liberty:
No tramp of servile armies
Shall shame Columbia's shore,
For he who fights for freedom's rights
Is free for evermore!

* * * * *

Go tell the brave of every land,
Where'er that flag has flown—
The tyrant's fear, the patriot's cheer,
Through every clime and zone—
That now no more forever
Its stripes are slavery scars;
No tear-drops stain its azure plain
Nor dim its golden stars.

No slave beneath that grand old flag!
Forever let it fly,
With lightning rolled in every fold,
And flashing victory!
God's blessing breathe around it!
And when all strife is done,
May freedom's light, that knows no night,
Make every star a sun!

TRIBUTES TO LINCOLN

Grave Lincoln came, strong-handed, from afar—
The mighty Homer of the lyre of war!
'T was he who bade the raging tempest cease,
Wrenched from his strings the harmony of peace,
Muted the strings that made the discord—Wrong,
And gave his spirit up in thund'rous song,
Oh, mighty Master of the mighty lyre!
Earth heard and trembled at thy strains of fire:
Earth learned of thee what Heav'n already knew,
And wrote thee down among the treasured few!

—Paul Laurence Dunbar, 1899

From humble parentage and poverty, old Nature reared him,
And the world beheld her ablest, noblest man;
Few were his joys, many and terrible his trials,
But grandly he met them as only truly great souls can!
Our Nation's Martyr, pure, honest, patient, tender—
Thou who didst suffer agony e'en for the slave—
Our flag's defender, our brave, immortal teacher!
I lay this humble tribute on thy honored grave.

—Paul DeVere, 1899

We rest in peace where these sad eyes
Saw peril, strife, and pain;
His was the nation's sacrifice,
And ours the priceless gain.

—John G. Whittier

His patriotism, his integrity, his purity, his moderation will contribute largely to make the American people patriotic, honest, and upright.... His life, his teaching, and his character will prolong the life of the Republic.

—Isaac N. Arnold

His mind was strong and deep, sincere and honest, patient and enduring: having no vices, and having only negative defects, with many positive virtues. His is a strong, honest, sagacious, manly, noble life. He stands in the foremost ranks of men in all ages—their equal—one of the best types of this Christian civilization.

—W. H. Herndon

There is in the whole history of this Republic not one man, from whom we all—wherever born and whatever our political opinions—can learn more instructive and more inspiring lessons as to what true patriotism is: and there is but one who is fully his peer in this respect. To be pitied is, indeed, the American whose way of feeling and thinking will not allow him to look with infinite patriotic pride upon Abraham Lincoln.

—H. E. VonHolst

Lincoln was the grandest figure of the fiercest civil war.... Wealth could not purchase, power could not awe, this divine, this loving man. He knew no fear except the fear of doing wrong. Hating slavery, pitying the master—seeking to conquer not persons, but prejudices. He was the embodiment of the self-denial, the courage, the hope, and the nobility of the nation. He spoke, not to inflame, not to upbraid, but to convince. He raised his hands, not to strike, but in benediction.

—Robert G. Ingersoll

Lincoln was the humblest of the humble before his conscience, greatest of the great before history.

—Castelar

Abraham Lincoln was the vindication of poverty. He gave glory to the lowly. In the light of his life the cabin became conspicuous; the commonest toil no longer common, and the poor man's hardship a road to honor. It put shame on the prejudice of wealth and birth, and dignity on common manhood. The poor received from him inspiring hope; he taught the humblest youth that there was for him a path to power.

—Luther Laflin Mills

May one who fought in honor for the South
Uncovered stand and sing by Lincoln's grave?

* * * * *

He was the North, the South, the East, the West,
The thrall, the master, all of us in one;
There was no section that he held the best;
His love shone as impartial as the sun;
And so revenge appealed to him in vain,
He smiled at it, as at a thing forlorn,
And gently put it from him, rose and stood
A moment's space in pain,
Remembering the prairies and the corn
And the glad voices of the field and wood.

—Maurice Thompson, 1893

They bowed before the bier of him who had been prophet, priest and king to his people, who had struck the shackles from the slave, who had taught a higher sense of duty to the free men, who had raised the Nation to a loftier conception of faith and hope and charity.

—James G. Blaine

His was a name so pure, a life so grand,
That Lincoln's a magic name throughout the land.

—Jos. C. Sindelar

In his mentality, he shone in judgment, common sense, consistency, persistence and in knowledge of men. In his words, he was candid and frank, but accurate and concise, speaking sturdy Anglo-Saxon unadorned, powerful in its simplicity and the subdued enthusiasm of earnest thought. In his sentiments, he was kind and patient and brave. No leader ever more completely combined in his personality the graces of gentleness with rugged determination. In his morals, Truth was his star; Honesty the vital air of his living. In his religion, he was faithful as a giant; Providence was his stay; he walked with God.

—Luther Laflin Mills

His constant thought was his country and how to serve it.

—Charles Sumner

His career teaches young men that every position of eminence is open before the diligent and worthy.

—Bishop Matthew Simpson

Such a life and character will be treasured forever as the sacred possession of the American people and of mankind.

—James A. Garfield

By his fidelity to the True, the Right, the Good, he gained not only favor and applause, but what is better than all, love.

—W. D. Howells

He was warm-hearted; he was generous; he was magnanimous, he was most truly, as he afterwards said on a memorable occasion, "With malice toward none, with charity for all."

—Alexander H. Stephens

Let us build with reverent hands to the type of this simple, but sublime life, in which all types are honored.

—Henry W. Grady

Lincoln was the purest, the most generous, the most magnanimous of men.

—General W. T. Sherman

His chief object, the ideal to which his whole soul was devoted, was the preservation of the Union.

—Alexander H. Stephens

O honest face, which all men knew!
O tender heart, but known to few!

—R. H. Stoddard

Who can be what he was to the people,
What he was to the State?
Shall the ages bring us another
As good and as great?

—Phoebe Cary

Lincoln was the greatest President in American history, because in a time of revolution he comprehended the spirit of American institutions.

—Lyman Abbott

He was one of the few great rulers whose wisdom increased with his power, and whose spirit grew gentler and tenderer as his triumphs were multiplied.

—James A. Garfield

With all his disappointments from failures on the part of those to whom he had trusted command, and treachery on the part of those who had gained his confidence but to betray it, I never heard him utter a complaint, nor cast a censure for bad conduct or bad faith. It was his nature to find excuses for his adversaries. In his death the nation lost its greatest hero.

—U. S. Grant

The best way to estimate the value of Lincoln is to think what the condition of America would be today if he had never lived—never been President.

—Walt Whitman

He had a face and manner which disarmed suspicion, which inspired confidence, which confirmed good will.

—R. W. Emerson

The life of Lincoln should never be passed by in silence by old or young. He touched the log cabin and it became the palace in which greatness was nurtured. He touched the forest and it became to him a church in which the purest and noblest worship of God was observed. In Lincoln there was always some quality which fastened him to the people and taught them to keep time to the music of his heart. He reveals to us the beauty of plain backwoods honesty.

—Prof. David Swing

The shepherd of the people! that old name that the best rulers ever craved. What ruler ever won it like this dead President of ours? He fed us with counsel when we were in doubt, with inspiration when we faltered, with caution when we would be rash, with calm, trustful cheerfulness through many an hour when our hearts were dark. He fed hungry souls all over the country with sympathy and consolation. He spread before the whole land feasts of great duty, devotion and patriotism, on which the land grew strong. He taught us the sacredness of government, the wickedness of treason. He made our souls glad and vigorous with the love of liberty that was his.

—Rev. Phillips Brooks

QUOTATIONS FROM LINCOLN

WITH malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation's wounds; to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow, and his orphan; to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations.

I have one vote, and I shall always cast that against wrong as long as I live.

In every event of life, it is right makes might.

The mystic cords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave, to every living heart and hearthstone, all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the angels of our nature.

Let us have faith that right makes might, and in that faith let us to the end dare to do our duty as we understand it.

Gold is good in its place; but loving, brave, patriotic men are better than gold.

God must like common people, or he would not have made so many of them.

The reasonable man has long since agreed that intemperance is one of the greatest, if not the greatest, of all evils among mankind.

The purposes of the Almighty are perfect and must prevail, though we erring mortals may fail accurately to predict them in advance.

No men living are more worthy to be trusted than those who toil up from poverty.

Of the people, when they rise in mass in behalf of the Union and the liberties of their country, truly may it be said: 'The gates of hell cannot prevail against them.'

No man is good enough to govern another man without that other man's consent.

Let not him who is homeless pull down the house of another, but let him labor diligently to build one for himself.

You may fool all of the people some of the time, and some of the people all of the time, but you cannot fool all of the people all of the time.

Better give your path to the dog—even killing the dog would not cure the bite.

The way for a young man to rise is to improve himself in every way he can, never suspecting that anybody is hindering him.

I say "try," for if we never try, we never succeed.

The pioneer in any movement is not generally the best man to bring that movement to a successful issue.

Have confidence in yourself, a valuable if not indispensable quality.

Let us judge not, that we be not judged.

When you have an elephant on hand, and he wants to run away, better let him run.

It is best not to swap horses in the middle of a stream.

This country, with its institutions, belongs to the people who inhabit it.

A nation may be said to consist of its territory, its people, and its laws.

When you can't remove an obstacle, plough around it!

God bless my mother! All I am or hope to be I owe to her.

I do not think much of a man who is not wiser today than he was yesterday.

Suspicion and jealousy never did help any man in any situation.

DIALOGUES, PLAYS, EXERCISES

THE SAVIOR OF OUR FLAG AND COUNTRY

Laura R. Smith

A PATRIOTIC CANTATA, DRILL, AND MEDLEY IN THREE SCENES FOR A WHOLE SCHOOL

This entertainment is especially adapted for primary and intermediate grades, although pupils of all grades may participate.

CHARACTERS

SCENE I—Before the War

Six Sailor Boys enter from the right, Six Soldier Boys enter from the left. They march forward in two lines, carrying flags, pause and sing. Cross flags or wave them while singing the last four lines.

Sailor and Soldier Boys (sing):

Tune: COLUMBIA, THE GEM OF THE OCEAN

The flag of our nation we're bringing,
The banner for me and for you;
As songs of dear Lincoln we're singing,
We stand 'neath the Red, White and Blue,
O flag of a nation united,
We love your bright folds and your stars,
We march 'neath the bonnie bright banner,
This good land of freedom is ours.
We'll stand by the Red, White and Blue,
We'll stand by the Red, White and Blue,
The flag of our nation forever,
We'll stand by the Red, White and Blue!

See, the bonnie bright banners are streaming,
We wave them all high in the air,
The Red, White and Blue now is gleaming,
Beloved by all men everywhere.
Oh, long may the banner be waving,
Upheld by soldiers and sailors true;
Three cheers for the flag of our nation,
We'll stand by the Red, White and Blue,
We'll stand by the Red, White and Blue,
We'll stand by the Red, White and Blue,
The flag of our nation forever,
We'll stand by the Red, White and Blue.

(Boys march forward and back, Soldiers in one line abreast, Sailors in another, following. Lines march right and left, Sailors from one side of stage, Soldiers from the other, pass each other several times at center of stage. Halt at center of stage, the two lines facing each other, close ranks at back and spread out at front, forming an open triangle, thus [Greek: lambda].)

Soldiers:

We're the boys of the land!
We'll always be true
To the flag of the Union,
The Red, White and Blue.

Sailors:

We're the boys of the sea!
Wherever we sail
The Red, White and Blue
Shall weather each gale.

All (waving flags):

The boys of the land and the boys of the sea,
Sing a song for our banner, the flag of the free,
The Union forever, for me and for you,
Three cheers for our banner, the Red, White and Blue.

All (sing, waving flags during chorus):

HURRAH FOR THE FLAG! [F]

There are many flags in many lands,
There are flags of ev'ry hue,
But there is no flag, however grand,
Like our own Red, White and Blue.

Chorus:    Then hurrah for the flag! our country's flag,
Its stripes and white stars, too;
There is no flag in any land
Like our own Red, White and Blue!

[F] By Mary H. Howliston. From Cat Tails and Other Tales, by this author, in which book music for words given here will be found. Price, paper binding, twenty-five cents; cloth binding, forty cents.

(Enter Messenger from the back, marches between the two lines to the front. Boys form in semicircle behind him.)

Messenger:

What threatens the Union
In this land of ours?
There appears a new flag,
Of the Stars and Bars.
"United we stand,
Divided we fall."
Who now can save us?
On whom shall we call?

First Soldier:

From Lincoln I have come today
Our Lincoln!
With justice he will take his place,
Our Lincoln!
With courage on his noble brow,
He will protect the Union now,
We all salute; to him we bow,
Our Lincoln!

(All give Flag Salute.)

Messenger:

From Lincoln I have come today
To call for Volunteers!
Other messengers are on their way
To call for Volunteers.
Shall we now see our flag bowed low?
No, to meet the Southerners we'll go,
Marching while the bugles blow
The call for Volunteers!

All:

The time has come for strife and war,
Blow, bugles, blow!
The soldier boys are called once more,
Blow, bugles, blow!

Bear your message far and wide,
Ring out through all the countryside,
We are a Nation's hope and pride,
Blow, bugles, blow!

(Exit All, as bugle call is heard.)

SCENE II—The War

Several boys with drums march in front of tents, which have been arranged on the stage. They sing, beating drums softly during chorus, and march around the tents.

Tune: MARCHING THROUGH GEORGIA

Marching toward the battlefield,
We go with sword and drum;
Marching toward the battlefield,
O, see the army come.
Rat-a-tat, a-rat-a-tat, So loudly beats the drum, While we are singing of Lincoln.

Chorus:    Hurrah! hurrah! who'll be a Volunteer? Hurrah! hurrah! O what have we to fear? Join the chorus every one, the army marches on, While we are singing of Lincoln.

Marching on to victory,
O, hear the drums beat low,
Marching on to victory,
Now see the army go.
Wave the bonnie stars and stripes, Up high where all may see, While we are singing of Lincoln.

Chorus: Hurrah! hurrah! etc.

(Drummer Boys retire to tents. Enter Soldier Boys, carrying guns. They are led by a Captain, who gives the commands in the following drill:)

Boys march by 2's, 4's or 6's and line up for drill.

Drill

Salute! Gun held in right hand, top resting on shoulder, raise left hand to forehead.

Present, arms! Hold gun in front with right hand, grasp with left hand.

Order, arms! Large end of gun on floor, gun held by right hand, left hand at side.

Shoulder, arms! Guns on right shoulder.

Port, arms! Grasp gun in center, with right hand, hold diagonally across chest.

Extend, arms right! Hold with both hands, right arm extended, left hand resting on chest.

Extend, arms left! Same with left arm extended, etc.

Aim! Rest gun on shoulder, raised with both hands.

About, face! Face around.

Forward, march! March about tents, while tune of TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP, THE BOYS ARE MARCHING, is softly played. Retire in or back of tents.

(A sentinel, Scott, comes out to keep guard, walks up and down many times, and finally leans up against one of the tents and falls asleep. He is discovered by the Captain, who comes on stage.)

Captain (comes forward):

What ho! the guard is asleep!
What, then, if the enemy come,
Creeping stealthily over the hill
With never the sound of drum?
By surprise our camp they'd take.
Sleeping guard, awake! awake!

(Scott awakes and salutes Captain.)

Captain:

For this offense you shall be tried,
'Twas indeed a sad mistake.
Who shall guard the camp tonight,
If no guard here is awake?

Soldiers (come forward):

'Tis wearisome the watch to keep,
Alas! alas! he fell asleep!
Alas! alas! he fell asleep!

(Scott is led off by Soldiers to be tried by court-martial.)

Old Soldier (enters):

Scott is a bonnie soldier boy:
He's honest, brave and true;
He is worthy still to bear
The Red and White and Blue.
Alas! alas! he will come home,
Sentenced soon to die,
Beloved by all his comrades, now
With bowed heads they march by.

(Re-enter All, singing one verse of JUST BEFORE THE BATTLE, MOTHER.)

Captain (to Scott):

There is but one who can save you now;
From a cabin home he came,
He is our honored President,
And Lincoln is his name!
Then to our honored President,
For pardon we will go,
We will march if there be hope
No more with heads bowed low.

(Exit All.)

(Boys, in make-up of negroes enter. They sing the following song, and imitate banjo playing while singing the chorus.)

THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND[G]

'Way down in the sunny Southland,
Lives the little black boy, you know,
His mother sings a lullaby,
To the tune of the old banjo.

Chorus:    Plunkety-plunk, plunkety-plunk,
Down in the cotton-field we go.
Plunkety-plunk, plunkety-plunk,
Plunkety-plunk, plunk-plunk, banjo.

'Way down in the sunny Southland,
Where the sky is so bright and blue,
The black boy on the banjo strings
Likes to play the same tune to you.

Chorus: Plunkety-plunk, etc.

'Way down in the sunny Southland
You will hear this sweet lullaby,
The wee black boy must go to sleep,
For the Sandman is passing by.

Chorus: Plunkety-plunk, etc.

Soldiers (return, shouting):

Hurrah! Scott is pardoned.

(They repeat the last four lines of their first song and march off.)

SCENE III—After the War

Lincoln's picture is placed on a ladder or easel, the children that recite placing flags and garlands of flowers about it.

RECITATION BY THREE BOYS WITH THREE FLAGS

First Boy:

The flag that speaks of men made free,
The flag of sword and drum,
'Tis the bonniest banner in all the world,
The flag of battles won.

Second Boy:

The flag that speaks of Gettysburg,
Upheld by faithful men
Amid the battle's storm and strife,
Shall wave for us again.

Third Boy:

The flag that waves o'er Lincoln now,
Means freedom for the slave;
So waves the bonnie stars and stripes
O'er many a patriot's grave.

All:

No North, no South, no East, no West,
A union of all states is best;
One flag for all is a nation's pride,
The Blue and the Gray lay side by side.

A Girl (comes on stage and recites):

OUR HERO

Today the flags are flying,
For a hero that we love;
We all sing of Lincoln,
While waves the flag above.
Bring out the bonnie banners,
Flags of shining stripes and stars,
Lincoln was our country's hero,
And the victory is ours.

Another Girl (enters and recites):

OUR LINCOLN

Crown him with wreaths of evergreen,
Our Lincoln.
Bring fairest flowers ever seen,
For Lincoln.
Crown him today with fragrant flowers,
The war is o'er, the victory is ours,
Above all men this great man towers,
Our Lincoln.

Crown him with gentle words of love,
Our Lincoln;
And place the banners high above
For Lincoln.
Raise high the flag of liberty,
For one who set the slaves all free,
Ring out his praises from sea to sea,
Our Lincoln.

(Children carrying flags and flowers and having shields on their breasts, each bearing one letter to spell the word "Lincoln," enter. The cards bearing the letters are hung from the neck, and when children enter are blank side toward audience. Each child turns his letter to view of the audience after reciting his lines and disposing of his flowers and flag. They stand in order, and when through reciting, place the flowers and flags around the portrait of Lincoln.)

L:
Lincoln's name we all repeat,
And bring for him our flowers sweet.

I:
In peace or war a nation's pride,
We place our banners by his side.

N:
No North, no South today is seen,
We bring our wreaths of evergreen.

C:
Crown him with honest words of love,
And place the stars and stripes above.

O:
One nation and one flag is best,
Place flowers where our hero rests.

L:
Lincoln, we all love to bring
Tributes, while of thee we sing.

N:
No more he hears the bugle's call,
We scatter flowers over all.

All (return, grouping themselves nicely and sing):

LINCOLN DEAR[H]

Wave the bonnie banners high,
O Lincoln dear!
A host of children passing by,
O Lincoln dear,
Will sing to you their sweetest song,
As they now proudly march along,
For laurels unto you belong,
O Lincoln dear.

Chorus:    Wave the banners high,
The Red, the White, the Blue;
Wave the banners high,
To Lincoln dear we're true.
O wave the bonnie banners,
How proudly they all sway,
We wave the Red, the White, the Blue,
For Lincoln dear today.

Bonnie flags shall crown you now,
O Lincoln dear,
We place them by your noble brow,
O Lincoln dear,
And fairer far than monument,
The love from our young hearts is sent,
You were our honored President,
O Lincoln dear.

Chorus:    Wave the banners, etc.

A FLAG EXERCISE

L. F. Armitage

FOR EIGHT LITTLE GIRLS AND BOYS, EACH CARRYING A FLAG

First Child:

What flag is this?

Second:

This is our country's flag,
This flag so fine.
It is my father's flag
And it is mine.

Third:

What are its colors?

Fourth:

White stars in a field of blue,
Stripes white and red.
See our "Red, White and Blue"
Waving o'erhead (waving flags).

Fifth:

What do these colors mean?

Sixth:

White means, Be always pure!
Red means, Be brave!
Blue means, Be ever true!
Long may it wave.

Seventh:

Why are the flags up today?

Eighth:

All these United States,
Many in one,
Honor this glorious name—
Abraham Lincoln.

All (sing):

Tune: AULD LANG SYNE

We wave[I] the flag, the bonny flag
Of red and white and blue.
This flag that floats o'er land and sea,
To it we will be true.
Then[I] hail the flag, this bonny flag,
We'll give it three times three;
God bless the land that owns this flag,
The land of liberty.

—Primary Education

THE WOODEN FIRE-SHOVEL

Clara J. Denton

A DIALOGUE FOR THREE GIRLS AND TWO BOYS

CHARACTERS

Mrs. Lincoln, mother of the family
Mr. Lincoln, father of same
Sarah, step-daughter of Mrs. Lincoln and sister to "Abe"

COSTUMES

Mrs. Lincoln: Dark calico gown very plainly made, wide gingham apron, hair parted in the middle, combed straight back from the face, and arranged in knot at back. Let this character be taller than the other girls, if possible.

Mr. Lincoln: Blue overalls and blouse. This character should be taller than the other boys.

Sarah: Short, plainly-made calico gown; hair arranged in two long braids, fastened together by dark thread.

John Johnston: Blue overalls and blouse, battered fur cap.

Matilda Johnston: Gown like Sarah's although different in color, hair also done up like Sarah's.

SCENE

Very plain interior. Pine table at center. Split-bottom rocker near it. Two old-fashioned wooden chairs placed a few feet apart at right-front, the same at left-front. At left-rear is a pine cupboard, on the open shelves of which are some cheap earthen dishes. This cupboard must be placed so that the characters can pass behind it to reach the suggested fireplace. Several skins of animals may be tacked about the walls; a pair of deer-antlers should also be in evidence. An old-fashioned gun with powder-horn might be hung in a conspicuous position. A wool spinning-wheel would add to the old-time effect.

Mrs. Lincoln and Sarah are discovered; the former, seated in the rocker, is mending a pair of ragged overalls, which, as she talks, she from time to time holds up and spreads out as if looking for holes. Sarah, at rear of stage, is sweeping vigorously.

Mrs. Lincoln: Dear me, Sarah! what a dust you do kick up (coughs); you'll choke me to death.

Sarah (sweeping more gently): Excuse me, but you see, the dirt is all here, and I suppose the only way to get it out is to kick it up; but I'll try to be more careful.

Voice (behind scenes): Abe, Abe, O, Abe.

Mrs. Lincoln: How strange it is that I just can't teach John not to stand and call out that way. I've tried ever since he was a baby to make him go to anyone that he wants.

Sarah: I suppose he thinks it doesn't matter as long as he's just calling Abe.

Mrs. Lincoln: But it does matter, because it's a bad habit, and a bad habit is mighty easy to get and mighty hard to lose. I don't have a bit of trouble teaching all those things to Abe. Dear me, he's such a good, obedient boy; I don't believe he'll live to grow up (sighs).

Sarah: O, yes he will, mother; he's too full of mischief to die; besides, he's the strongest boy for his age that there is anywhere around here. He picked Matilda and me both up yesterday and carried us clear to the woods. We kicked and screamed (laughs) and squirmed, but oh my! we're just like a pair of dolls to him. He set us down at the edge of the woods, then started on a run. We started too, but he was in the barn and clear at the top of the corn-stalks stacked in the mow before we were half way to the house (laughs). Don't worry about his dying, mother.

Voice (again): Abe, Abe, O, Abe.

Mrs. Lincoln: What shall I do with that boy?

Sarah: Don't do anything. Just let him keep right on howling until he gets tired of it.

Mrs. Lincoln: But I'm tired of hearing him.

Sarah: Shall I go and make him keep still? (Laughs and gesticulates.)

John (enters at right): Where's Abe, mother? I've been calling and calling him. (Sits in chair at right-front.)

Sarah: Yes, we thought we heard something.

Mrs. Lincoln: Take off your hat, my son. I do wish you didn't need telling that so often.

John (removes hat): But I want Abe.

Mrs. Lincoln: What for?

John: To help me carry in the wood. There's a big storm coming.

Mrs. Lincoln: Well, he isn't here.

John: Isn't here? What do you mean? I didn't see him go away.

Mrs. Lincoln: No, he went away while you were gone to the woods with your father's lunch. This is his birthday, so I let him walk to Gentryville to get me some thread. You folks wear out your clothes so fast that it takes a lot of thread to keep you from being bundles of rags.

John (sulkily): And must I get that wood in all alone?

Mrs. Lincoln: That won't hurt you. Don't you remember the other day when you had the tooth-ache, Abe got in all the wood and wouldn't let you do a thing?

Matilda (enters at left from behind cupboard): Hurry up, John, and bring in some wood, the fire is getting low. Don't you feel chilly, mother?

Mrs. Lincoln: Yes, it is getting cold here. Run along, John, that's a good boy. Abe will get it all in tomorrow night, I'm sure.

Sarah: Yes, or else when he's rich and famous maybe he'll let you live with him. Mother is so sure he's bound to be a great man.

John (rising): O, well, Abe's all right, I don't mind.

Mrs. Lincoln: Yes, you children like to laugh at the things I say about Abe, but I know any boy—or girl either, for that matter—who's so anxious to learn, can't help amounting to something some day. You just wait and see.

Mr. Lincoln (enters at right): What's that, mother? What shall we see if we wait? Guess we'll have to wait a good while if we see anything very great around these diggings.

Sarah: O, ma's just bragging about Abe again.

Mr. Lincoln (goes to Mrs. Lincoln and lays hand on her shoulder): You're good to the chap, Sallie, that's a fact. I'm glad I brought you here to be a mother to him. But sometimes I wonder if it's just the thing for you to encourage him to do so much reading, for I know you do encourage him.

Matilda: I should say she does! Why, the rest of us young ones have to go around on our tip-toes and talk in whispers when Abe gets his nose in a book.

Mr. Lincoln: Isn't that a little hard on the others, Sallie?

Matilda (quickly): Oh, my! we don't mind. We like to have Abe read, and we think he's mighty good to tell the rest of us all about what he reads.

Sarah: That he does. You just ought to hear him, pa, tell the story of Pilgrim's Progress.

Matilda: O, pa wouldn't like that as well as he would Æsop's Fables; just get him to tell you some of those stories some time.

John: And all about Robinson Crusoe, too, pa, and the queer times he had. You'd like that, I know.

Mr. Lincoln: Well, it may be all right, but I don't like to see a big, strapping boy like Abe spending his time over books, to say nothing of the hours he wastes running around borrowing them. Why, I'll bet he has read every book in this county.

Mrs. Lincoln: So he has! He was wishing just the other day that he knew of some more books that he could borrow: he said he had "read every book that he had heard of within a circuit of fifty miles."

Matilda: And, pa, if you could only hear him when he climbs on the table and makes speeches. I just tell you, Abe is heaps of fun.

Mr. Lincoln: I dare say he is, but that doesn't get the work done. It's all right for sickly fellows to be spending their time getting learning, but a big, strong fellow like Abe will always be able to earn his living by hard work.

Mrs. Lincoln: Of course he'll be able to, but you'll find out he'll not do it. I tell you there are other plans laid away in that big head of his.

Mr. Lincoln: Well, well, he'll have you to thank if he ever does amount to anything, that's sure. (Shivers.) But it's cold in here, what on earth is the matter with your fire?

John (aside): Time for me to run. (Exit at right, hurriedly.)

Mr. Lincoln (turning toward cupboard): It's funny you young ones can't look after the fire when ma's busy.

John, you go bring in some wood! (Looks around.) O, he's gone after it, I guess—about time. (Disappears behind cupboard.)

Mrs. Lincoln (to girls): Don't tell pa that John was waiting for Abe to help him. If you do they'll both get a scolding, maybe.

Matilda: And you, too, for letting Abe go away. (All laugh.)

(John enters at right, carrying wood, which he drops noisily behind cupboard.)

Mrs. Lincoln (starting up): John, why do you drop the wood in that noisy way? (John re-appears and comes down.) After all my talking to you, it does seem as if you might learn to be more quiet about it.

Matilda: Yes, when Abe——

Sarah (catching her by the arm): Hush, Matilda! if you keep on (they come down to right front) you'll make John hate Abe. Don't hold him up to John all the time as a pattern.

Matilda (sighs): But, you know, Sarah, Abe is so different. He never does any of those disagreeable things that John is always doing. I remember, when we first came here, ma told Abe to take off his hat when he came into the house, and she never has had to tell him the second time; but she is still trying to hammer it into John.

Sarah: Yes, dear, I know, and Abe is so kind to everyone and so thoughtful of other people's comfort. I am so glad he is my brother, and I only wish I were half as good and kind as he.

Matilda: Yes, and so jolly, too.

Sarah: Only sometimes he looks so sad—that must be when he's hungry for more books.

John (coming towards them): What are you two girls talking about over here?

(Mr. Lincoln appears from behind cupboard, carrying a large wooden shovel, the blade of which is covered with black figures. He comes down, confronting Mrs. Lincoln.)

Mr. Lincoln: Mother, what in the world is this?

Mrs. Lincoln (laughing): O, those are Abe's sums.

Mr. Lincoln: Sums! I vum! Sums! What did he make them with?

Mrs. Lincoln: A piece of burnt wood.

Mr. Lincoln: I vum! Sums! Where did he learn to do sums?

Mrs. Lincoln: O, he picked it up.

Mr. Lincoln: I bet you taught him! didn't you, Sallie? Come now, own up.

Mrs. Lincoln: Well, I helped him a little, but he's far ahead of me now; he's ciphered clear through that old ragged arithmetic that's been kicking around the house.

Mr. Lincoln (turning shovel over): But both sides are covered. What's he going to do now?

Mrs. Lincoln: O, he'll take the shaving knife and whittle it all off, then he'll have a "new slate," as he says.

Mr. Lincoln (holding up shovel): A new slate! Sums! Well, I vum!

(Whistle heard behind scenes.)

Mrs. Lincoln (rising): There he comes now. Put the shovel away, and don't scold him, pa.

Mr. Lincoln: Sums! I vum! (Exit quickly behind cupboard.)

Curtain

THE PROPHECY

Clara J. Denton

A DIALOGUE FOR ONE GIRL AND TWO BOYS

CHARACTERS

John       Thomas       Helen

COSTUMES

The characters wear suits made as nearly as possible in the style of seventy years ago. For hints as to proper styles consult pictures in old books—a brief description is, however, given.

The boys' trousers are long and loose; the jackets are short and tight-fitting, with small sleeves. The jackets are made open in front, and short, close-fitting vests, buttoning to the neck, are worn under them. White turn-over collars surmount the whole. These suits may be made of the cheapest material. Or, if preferred, the boys may be arrayed in blue overalls and "jumpers"; this will save much labor and inconvenience.

The girl wears a short, full-skirted gown of pink calico, the waist made plain, fitting closely and buttoning up the back. The hair should hang in two long braids, the ends tied together with a green ribbon.

SCENE

The stage is set to represent a schoolroom, with blackboards and maps on the walls, and cheap plain benches and desks in an orderly arrangement. A small pine table, on which are some books and a hand-bell, is in the center. Behind this table is an old-fashioned wooden chair for the teacher. Shabby and battered books are piled neatly on the various desks.

John (enters at right, comes to one of the desks, seats himself, and opens a book): Here is this miserable sum again. I suppose I've just got to get it done before the teacher comes; but I can't make head or tail of the thing. Let me see (reads): "If the half of four be three, what will three-fourths of twenty be?" (Closes book with a bang.) Was there ever any stuff like that? Everybody knows that half of four can't be three, so what's the use of wearing out a fellow's brains, 'specially when he's like me and hasn't any to spare, over a silly thing like that? O, gee, I believe I'll run away. I hate this school, school, all the time. If father would only let me stay at home and plough.

Thomas (enters at right): What's that, Jack? Didn't I hear you say something about ploughing?

John (rises and leaves desk, both boys come down): Yes, I was just wishing I could stay at home and plough instead of coming to school and worrying my head over fractions. I hate them.

Thomas (goes to another desk and takes up book): I don't mind fractions, but here's this awful geography lesson. Teacher said if I didn't have it this morning I'd have to stay in all the noon hour and learn it. What good will it ever do me, I'd like to know, to get the names of all these islands in my head? I don't mean to be a sailor, and if I should be I guess I'd learn the names of places fast enough when I came to them.

John (puts his hand on Thomas' shoulder): Say, Tom, let's run away where they can't make us go to school. We know enough now.

Thomas: So we do; we can write our names, and say the multiplication table. What more need a fellow know?

John: We can work for the farmers until we get a little money and then——

Helen (enters at right and comes down): O boys, aren't you ashamed? I overheard your bad plans; how can you talk that way about going to school instead of being glad that you have the chance to go?

John: Glad of the chance? Ho, ho, that's funny.

Thomas: I should say so, as if anybody was ever glad to go to school. (Both boys laugh heartily. Helen stands silently gazing at them.)

John: Why, that beats everything! "Glad to go to school!" I don't believe there ever was such a thing as a fellow being glad to go to school.

Helen: I'm sure I'm glad.

Thomas (snapping his fingers scornfully and turning away): Yes, but you're a girl. I suppose it's all right for a girl to be glad.

John: I said I didn't believe there was such a thing as a fellow being glad to go to school. You're not a fellow, are you? (Both boys laugh and cross over.)

Thomas: If I was a girl I dare say I'd like to go to school. Of course, that's better than rocking the baby and washing the dishes—but fellows! I tell you they have better ways to pass their time, eh! Jackie? (Pokes him in the ribs. Both laugh.)

Helen: Well, it's a lucky thing for the world that all boys aren't like you, else where would our great men come from if all the boys were as willing to remain great know-nothings as you two are?

John: O, who wants to be great? Great men have to work, and to sit up nights and worry about things. I'd rather be a plough-boy than a great man any time.

Thomas: So would I! Nothing to worry about, just follow the horse and keep the plough straight.

Helen: Well, there's one thing of which both of you may be pretty sure.

Both: What's that?

Helen: You are in a fair way to get what you want. You will both be plough-boys until you are too old to hold the plough, and then you can go to the poorhouse, where the "great men" whom you despise will make laws to take care of you.

Thomas: That's just it; now you are coming around to John's statement. We will not have to worry; others will do that, you see.

Helen (impatiently): Boys, why don't you brace up and study as you ought to? What's the use of all this foolish talk? You know you don't mean a word of it! (Goes up stage.)

John: We do mean it, too, don't we, Tom?

Thomas: You're the one that talks foolishness. You said some boys would be "glad of our chance to go to school."

Helen (coming down quickly): Yes, and it's true, too. I heard my father telling last night about a boy living out in the woods beyond Gentryville who'd give almost anything for your chance. He's never been to school but a few months in his whole life, and—

Thomas: O, no wonder he thinks he'd like it, he doesn't know anything about it. I thought it was fun, too, when I was in the primer class.

John: Yes, so did I.

Helen: Well, he's beyond the primer class, I tell you. He knows the old Webster spelling book all by heart, father says.

John: How'd he learn it if he hasn't been to school? Your stories don't hitch very well, Miss Preachie.

Helen: He learned it all by himself, lying on the floor nights in front of the big fireplace. They are too poor to have even a grease light.

Thomas: Must think a lot of that old spelling book. (Both laugh.)

Helen: Of course he thinks a lot of it. He thinks a lot of any book. Father heard a man telling down at the store that this boy cut four cords of wood for some one, just to get a piece of a book.

John: O, wanted to read the Arabian Nights, probably.

Helen: But it wasn't the Arabian Nights that he bought; it was the Life of Washington.

Thomas: What's the use of his reading the Life of Washington? He's nothing but poor, white trash—too poor, you say, even to have a grease light. He'll never be anybody.

Helen: Don't you be too sure of that. I tell you that boy will be a great man. Some day you'll hear of him yet.

John: Just because he was fool enough to cut four cords of wood for a piece of a book?

Thomas: Well, I'd have had the whole book or nothing.

John: So would I (sneering). Why he was a fool. O, yes, we'll hear of him, of course. We'll read about him in the back part of the spelling book where the blank leaves are. But what's his name, do you know?

Helen: Yes, father told me. His name is Abraham Lincoln: remember it, boys, for I am quite sure you will hear it again some day.

Thomas: Of course we'll remember it; couldn't forget it if we tried. A boy that was as big a greeny as that.

John: I tell you, Helen, the next time that you have to write one of those things which you like so well—a composition—you can write it about "The Two Cuts, or The Wood That Was Cut for a Cut Book." My! but that will be fine. (Both laugh boisterously.)

Helen: Well, you may laugh, boys, but you'll find there'll be plenty of people to write about him, and it may be it will be done while you are yet alive to read the books, and more than that—

(Shouts heard from behind scenes.)

John (running off at right): Come on, Tom, I hear the boys forming for "There, old cat"; we'll be too late.

Thomas: But, how about your sum and my geography lesson? The teacher'll do something dreadful to us.

John (calling back over his shoulder): Bother on them, we'll have time to study after school calls: if we don't, who cares? Let Abraham Lincoln do the studying while we are having fun. Come on, come on. (Exit at right.)

Helen: Don't go, Tom; stay and have a perfect lesson for once.

Thomas: O, I've heard preaching enough for one morning. (Exit at right, running.)

Helen: That's the way it always ends. If I try to have them mend their ways, they just make fun of me for "preaching." (Goes to a desk and takes up book, opens it and sits at desk.) I'm only a girl, of course, but I am going to imitate poor Abe by trying to get a little knowledge into my head. But what foolish boys they are, and some day when Abraham Lincoln is a great man and everyone is talking about the wonderful things he is doing, John and Tom will be standing around whittling sticks and growling because they couldn't be as "lucky as Abraham Lincoln." Well, if I am anywhere around, I'll tell them of the things they said this morning. I know I shall never forget them. (Becomes intent on book.)

Curtain

CAPTAIN LINCOLN

Clara J. Denton

A DIALOGUE FOR FIVE BOYS

CHARACTERS

Captain Lincoln
Lieutenant Dash
Private Dunn
Sergeant Free
Gerolomo, the Indian

COSTUMES

Soldiers: For the four soldiers, suitable military outfits.

Indian: If a wig of long black hair is obtainable, part the hair and make into two heavy braids, twisting yellow or red flannel through the braids which hang down close to the face on either side. If a wig is impossible, decorate a strip of pasteboard with chicken feathers and fasten it around the head. Wear a brightly colored blanket thrown over a pair of overalls and dark cotton shirt. Wear moccasins. Carry old-fashioned gun.

The character of Lincoln must be taken by boy much taller than the others.

SCENE

Camp; tent in foreground with flap up, showing rude bed, gun, knapsack, etc.

Lieutenant Dash and Sergeant Free are discovered lying at full length not far from tent.

Lieutenant (rising): Well, I must say, I'm mighty tired lying 'round here waiting for that boat to come.

Sergeant (yawns and rolls over): Guess we'll never get where the Indians are if we wait for that boat. Wish we could all swim across the river. Captain Lincoln's getting mighty tired of waiting, too.

Lieutenant: No wonder! Such an unruly lot as he has to hold in check here.

Sergeant: Yes, think of his being blamed for that rowdy crowd breaking into the storehouse and drinking up all the whiskey. He didn't know a thing about it until it was all over.

Lieutenant (walking up and down): Yes, but you see that's the way things go; he's at the head of the company and he just has to stand the blame for all their meannesses. I should think they'd be a little careful of their doings for they all like him, or seem to, anyway.

Sergeant: You see, they just didn't think, that's the trouble with them.

Lieutenant: Perhaps they'll be more careful after this, that is if they like him as well as they pretend to.

Sergeant (jumping up): Oh, that's all real; they like him, you can depend on that. Didn't you ever hear how he came to be captain?

Lieutenant: No, I have often wondered about it, for he's young for that position. Tell me all about it if you can. (Seats himself on ground near door of tent.)

Sergeant: Well, it was this way; it's not a very long story, but I might as well sit down. (Sits on other side of door.) You see, there were two fellows put up: Kirkpatrick and Lincoln. The vote was taken in a field, by directing the fellows at the command "march," to gather around the one they wanted for captain. The other fellow was a good deal older than Lincoln and I s'pose most folks would say he was better fitted to be captain, but's sure's you live a good big majority went over to Lincoln's side. And I never saw a fellow so tickled as Lincoln was! (Slapping his knee with his right hand.)

Lieutenant: Well, now, they ought to stand by him and not cut up any more rowdy tricks, to have him disgraced by wearing a wooden sword. Better talk to them just as soon as you get a chance.

Sergeant: I will, sir, that I will. (Enter Private Dunn at left. He comes down and salutes.)

Private: You just ought to have been up the road with the boys a couple of hours ago. I tell you, we had heaps of fun. Talk about Indians!

Private (crossing over): Indians! (Waving his hands for them to remain calm.) No, just one poor lonesome, hungry Indian—an old one at that.

Private: I guess not! the Captain was there.

Lieutenant: Well, what did they do to make any fun?

Private: Well, they all ran at him with their guns, yelling "Redskin! Scalp him! Kill him! He's what we're after." Then the frightened old fellow drew from his belt a letter and whined out "Me good Injun, me no harm paleface. See—paper; from big white war chief." Someone grabbed the letter and read it aloud. It was from General Cass and said that the bearer Gerolomo was a friendly Indian and that he must be given food and shelter.

Lieutenant: Forged letter, no doubt.

Sergeant: I bet he was a spy.

Private: That's just what the others said. They all got around him and yelled "Shoot him! Kill him!" till I didn't think the poor beggar's life was worth two bits. He thought so, too, I guess, for he was so scared that he was almost white. They were all around him so that he couldn't run—tell you it looked tough. (Draws long breath.)

Lieutenant: But go on; you said they didn't kill the worthless cur?

Private: "Worthless cur!" Well, I guess not! the Captain heard the men and dashing in among them, he laid his hand on the Indian's shoulder, and he just roared: "The first man that touches him dies!" O, boys, you'd orter been there. (Goes up.)

Sergeant: Come back and tell the rest; what happened then?

Private (comes down): Someone sung out, "O, you're a coward, afraid of an old Indian. Let us have him!" Whew! You'd orter seen him then. I never see the Captain so mad. "Who says I'm a coward?" he roared, rolling up his sleeves.

Lieutenant: Well, did they fight him? (Laughs.)

Private: Guess not—didn't want to tackle that job. So the Captain after a minute or two took the old Indian by the arm and led him off to feed.

Sergeant: That was just like the Captain, but it may be the old fellow is a spy after all.

Lieutenant: Well, I guess that's the only Indian that we are likely to see and it's too bad of the Captain to spoil the boys' fun. O, here comes the noble red man now. (Gerolomo enters at right, comes down slowly and timidly.)

Lieutenant: Hullo, there, you redskin! What's your name? (Goes to him.)

Indian: Gerolomo. Me heap good Injun; heap like paleface, bring paleface heap meat. (Shows gun and continues to move on slowly across stage.)

Lieutenant: Stand still, there, and tell us where the rest of your people are; we'd like pretty well to kill a few hundred.

Indian (stands): Big paleface tell Gerolomo go bring venison, go bring duck.

Lieutenant: Well, why don't you do it, then? Better mind him, I tell you, or he'll have you shot.

Indian (shaking head decidedly): No, no, big paleface heap good, heap brave; no harm poor Injun.

Sergeant (going to Indian): You're off now, I'll bet, to tell your people just where to find us and just how many palefaces there are here.

Indian (repeats former business): No, no, Gerolomo go tell big paleface got venison, got duck, got squirrel.

Private (going to him and shaking his fist at him): None o' your lying now. If you go to the Captain with that yarn he'll make short work o' you. The Captain hates a liar, he does.

Indian (whining): Me no lie, me good Injun. Me go tell big paleface me bring venison, me bring duck, me bring squirrel.

Lieutenant (to the others): Listen to that, will you? He'll bring venison, he'll bring duck, he'll bring squirrel. My! but we'll be living high. (All laugh.)

Sergeant: We'd like to see your venison, your duck, and your squirrel.

Indian (briskly): All right, me bring 'em in, me bring heap meat. (Turns about and moves toward right exit.)

Lieutenant: Better go with him, Dunn, because if he is lying to us, which he probably is, he'll not come back.

Private: All right, come on you "heap good Injun." We'll see what you've got out there. (Exeunt.)

Sergeant (saluting): Hadn't I better go, too, Lieutenant? He may get away from Dunn.

Lieutenant: No, I think Dunn can manage him. But hasn't he learned the trick of telling a good lie?

Sergeant: I should think so. Venison, duck and squirrel, and he's only been in the woods a few hours.

Lieutenant: Well, of course he may be telling the truth, because the woods are full of game, and I daresay the old fellow is a good shot.

(Enter Private Dunn, carrying a squirrel in one hand, a duck in the other, followed by Gerolomo dragging a dead deer. They stop at center. Lieutenant Dash and Sergeant Free run to them.)

Lieutenant: Well, really, you old redskin you have told the truth for once in your life.

Indian (lifting his hands and eyes): Me shoot for big paleface. Great Spirit tell Gerolomo where venison, where duck, where squirrel for big paleface. Great Spirit always take care of big paleface. (Captain Lincoln enters at left and comes down slowly, unseen by Gerolomo. The others salute.) Big paleface take care poor old Gerolomo.

Captain Lincoln (goes to Indian and lays hand on his shoulder): You have obeyed my orders and kept your promise, the whitest soldier among us all could have done no better.

Tableau

Curtain

WITH FIFE AND DRUM

Clara J. Denton

A PLAY IN TWO ACTS FOR FOUR GIRLS AND THREE BOYS

CHARACTERS

Mrs. Mortimer, mother of the family
Sally Caroline, the daughter
Albert, the son
Mr. Mortimer, father (this character has no lines)
Auntie Temp, a negro slave
George Washington Augustus, her son
Clementina Diana, her daughter

SCENE

Neat home interior. Old-fashioned hair-cloth sofa at right of stage. Hair-cloth rocking-chair at left. Marble-topped table at center. Easel with large picture of Lincoln near center. Cane seat rocking-chair at left-front, also another at right-front. Crocheted tidies on sofa and all rocking-chairs, and any other minor accessories that will give to the room an old-fashioned appearance.

COSTUMES

Mrs. Mortimer and Sally Caroline: For these two characters borrow dresses made during the '60's. If this is impossible, make gowns of some cheap yet good-looking material to represent such. Let the skirt be very full and worn over hoops; the waist plain and tight-fitting with wide flowing sleeves with white muslin undersleeves. Wear a broad, flat, embroidered collar. Mrs. Mortimer wears her hair parted in the middle, two curls on either side of her face, held in place by side-combs; the remainder fastened in a knot at the back. Sally Caroline's hair hangs in curls. Let these costumes be planned and overlooked by a skillful matron who is at least sixty years of age.

Albert: In first act he wears an ordinary suit for young man; in second act butternut-color suit, ragged and soiled.

Auntie Temp: Bright-colored print gown, wide gingham apron, bright bandanna kerchief tied on head. This character should be represented by a stout person, if possible.

George Washington Augustus: Overalls and "jumper" of blue denim.

Clementina Diana: Cotton gown. The two last named must wear negro wigs or wigs of black wool. The characters making-up for negroes should cover the faces with some sort of toilet cream before applying the burnt cork or "black-face" preparation.

Mr. Mortimer: United States military uniform faded and ragged.

ACT I

Auntie Temp (before the curtain rises): Gawge Washington Augustus. O, Gawge Washington Augustus, Gawge Washington Augustus, I say. (Curtain rises. Auntie Temp is seen leaving stage at right.)

George (enters at left): I was jes' suah I yerd mammy callin' me in heah. Wondah whar she went? Mighty ha'd times dese is foh de niggahs, dat's suah. What wid ole marsa goin' off wid de Linkum sojas an' young marsa stampin' 'round an' sayin' he foh suah cehtain am agoin' wid de Fed'rates I mos' done wish I hain't nevah been bo'n. I is foh suah.

(Singing behind scenes, a strain of any darkey melody that may be convenient, though the following, is especially appropriate. George pauses to listen.)

George (continues after the singing dies out, looking toward right): Dere comes dat worfless Clementina Diana, ef she is my sistah. 'Peahs lak any niggah dat can sing now-a-days ain't got no heart, jes' all gizzahd lak a chicken. (Clementina enters at right, still singing.) Shet up dere, Clementina Diana, how kin you go a-singin' 'round right in de midst o' dis yere wah when de folkses is a-shootin' each udder down, an' a—an' a——

Clementina: O, pshaw! Gawge Washington Augustus, I didn't make de wah, 'sides I hain't seen none o' it, so I might's well be gay and happy while I kin. Mammy's been a-squawkin' foh ye dis yere long while.

George: Where's she gone ter?

Clementina: O! I dunno. (This in a slipshod way, shrugging her shoulders. Continues singing and exits at left.)

George: Ef that hain't de most disrisponsible niggah gal dat eber breaved de bref o' life! If I's lak she am I'd run off tomowow and jine dem Linkum sojas, but I jes' cain't do it. I jes' keep a-wonderin' what dey all will do at home widout me. Well, I reckon I'll go hunt up mammy. (Exits at right.)

Sally (enters at left carrying open letter): Poor Cousin Bessie Helen, she has left her beautiful Alabama home with all its grand furniture and has run away with her brothers and sisters to grandpa's home here in Tennessee. What a foolish thing for her to do. (Reads from letter): "When they told me the Yankee soldiers were coming I couldn't think of anything but to get away safely with the children before the soldiers came in and butchered us all." How foolish she was! I am sure the officers would have seen that she came to no harm. (Goes to Lincoln's portrait and places her hand upon it.) It is plain that she has never looked upon your noble face. If she had she would have felt, as I do, that at least some small measure of your beautiful spirit must be scattered abroad through your army to keep the men from harming helpless widows and children. But, poor Bessie! she has only heard dreadful stories about you, and so, with her mother in her grave, and her father fighting against the Yankees she could see no safety except in flight. I must write to her and tell her something of our beloved Lincoln and the army which he controls. (Albert enters at left.) O, Albert, I am so glad you have come in just now. I have here a letter from Cousin Bessie; she is at grandfather's here in Tennessee.

Albert: In Tennessee?

Sally: Yes, read her letter; she was so afraid of the Yankee soldiers.

Albert: And well she might be, the hounds!

Sally: Hush! (placing right-hand forefinger to lips): Albert, do you forget that our father is one of them?

Albert (walking up and down excitedly): Indeed, I don't forget! I think of it every hour, and it is that which makes me so furious. How can he accept those low-down Northerners as his associates?

Sally: Brother, be still! Look at that face! (Points to Lincoln's portrait.) He is a Northerner, altho' he was born in Kentucky, and for his sake I love them all.

Albert: Then you must hate all your friends and relatives that are fighting against him.

Sally: No, no, dear brother, I do not. Don't you remember how the grand Lincoln closed his inaugural address? "We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave, to every living heart and hearthstone,——"

Albert (interrupting): There, stop, I will not listen to any more of his stuff.

Sally (continuing rapidly): "All over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature." Are those not wonderful words?

Albert: Stuff and sentimentalism, that's what they are!

Sally: O, Albert, how can you talk so? Think of it! Today is his birthday; today you should delight to honor him.

Albert: His birthday! Who cares?

Sally: Everyone should give thanks for this day.

Albert (laughing): What nonsense you talk, Sally Caroline.

Sally: Well, you will see. The time will come when the Country will celebrate his birthday just as they now do Washington's.

Albert: O, come now, that's too much. It's bad enough to know that we are to have another four years of his tyranny, without hearing you sing his praises.

Sally: But, you'll have to hear it; the war will soon be over, and he will be proclaimed as the Savior of his Country.

Albert: O, stop! The war is not anywhere near over: it is but begun. I'll not listen to this talk any longer. I resent it. I'll not hear any more of Abraham Lincoln. (Goes up stage in great excitement.)

Sally (excitedly): Why, Albert! How can you talk so? Why you sound just like a rebel.

Albert (turns and coming to center stands): And that is just what I am, a rebel! A rebel against the tyranny of Abraham Lincoln.

(Sally drops into rocking-chair at left-front; buries her face in her handkerchief and sobs violently.)

Albert (comes down): There, there, little sister! don't take on so; surely you have known my sentiments before this.

Sally (rising): O, but you never talked quite so wickedly before. How could you say things like that with his noble, benign face looking straight at you?

Albert (scornfully): Noble, benign face, indeed! I'll tear it into ribbons. I have put up with this thing long enough. (He goes toward picture. Sally runs quickly, intercepts him, and stands in front of picture, placing her arms protectingly across it.)

Albert: Stand aside!

Sally: Never!

Albert (loudly): Stand aside, I say!

Sally: Never!

Mrs. Mortimer (enters at right): Children, what in the world are you doing? Albert, was that you speaking like that to your sister? I could hardly believe my ears. (Albert goes to sofa and buries his face in his hands.) What in the world are you doing, Sally Caroline? Come and sit down.

Sally: No, mother, not until Albert promises me that he will not molest this picture.

Mrs. Mortimer: Molest that picture! Why should he? Your father paid ten good dollars of United States money for that picture and I reckon Albert doesn't want to waste money like that. Come here, Albert. (She sits in rocking-chair at right-front.) Do come away from that picture, Sally Caroline; how ridiculous you look spread out there. Come away, I say!

Sally: No, mother; not until Albert promises me that he will not harm this picture.

Mrs. Mortimer: Of course he will not harm it. I can answer for that. Harm a picture which his father loves so well? I cannot imagine my son doing a deed like that. Albert, come to me.

Albert (rising): Mother, I see that I have no place here. I will get across the line some way this very day, and join the Confederate Army. (Sally runs to him.)

Mrs. Mortimer (rises): What! My son fight against the old flag?

Sally: Albert, Albert; O, you cannot mean it!

Albert: Mother, you are a Southern woman; you ought to bid me godspeed.

Mrs. Mortimer: Yes, I am a Southern woman, but I am the descendant of men who helped to bind these States together, and no child of mine shall, with my consent, help to sever them. You shall not go, Albert.

Albert: Mother, I must! I shall—go. (Exit at right, running. Sally and Mrs. Mortimer throw their arms about each other and sink upon the sofa.)

Curtain

Here may be introduced a short drill of the Blue and the Gray if desirable. It would certainly have a pleasing effect and would tend to add variety and spice to the entertainment.

ACT II

Fife and drum heard playing YANKEE DOODLE, behind scenes. Auntie Temp discovered dusting the furniture.

Auntie Temp: Never seen nuthin' lak dem chilluns. Dat dere Clementina Diana she's jes' nuthin' but a no-'count shif'less niggah eber sence dem Linkum sojas come 'round heah. She found dat ole fife somewha's 'round an' she jes' blow on it all day long (puffing in her excitement); cain't get nuthin' else out'n her, an' Gawge Washington Augustus! (laughing) golly, he's jes' 's bad, he des poun' de old drum. O, deah, mighty queah times when niggahs jes' tinks dey's got nuthin' to do but stan' 'round and make jig music.

Mrs. Mortimer (enters at right): Aunt Temp, those children of yours can make pretty good music. I think we'll have to send them to that new Fisk University, just founded. (Sits in rocking-chair at right-front.)

Auntie Temp: Lan' sakes alive, Miss' Em'line! what de wo'ld you-all do dat foh? Suah dem chilluns ain't done nuthin' foh to shet dem up in de what ye call it, tentiarity.

Mrs. Mortimer: O, Aunt Temp, I didn't say the Penitentiary. I said the University; that's where they educate the darkies, you know, and when they are natural musicians like your children, they teach them all the branches of music.

Auntie Temp: What! eddicate de niggahs! I hain't nevah seen no good come o' dat. I'll eddicate that Gawge Washington Augustus to saw wood, and Clementina Diana has jes' nachually got to lea'n to make a hoe-cake 's good 's her mammy kin. I cain't see no use o' nuthin' else. Lan' sakes, I reckon what's good enough for dere ole niggah mammy 's good enough for dem two black niggahs. (Placing arms akimbo and holding head up proudly.)

Mrs. Mortimer: But everything's changed now, you know, Aunt Temp: there aren't any slaves any more, and so we must teach you colored people to take care of yourselves.

Auntie Temp: Yes, I know, I yerd lots o' dat kin' o' talk jes' dese yere days, but I reckon I jes' stays right heah wif you-alls twell I dies.

Clementina (running in from right): O, mammy, did you-all heah de music?

Auntie Temp: Go 'long ye good-foh-nuthin' shif'less niggah; doan ye see de mist'ess?

Clementina (turns and ducks her head and shoulders: a rude imitation of a curtsy): O, 'scuse me Miss' Em'line. I was jes' plum' crazy ovah dat fife. Golly, but dat's fine!

Mrs. Mortimer: You can play as well as a man, Clementina: come here. (Mrs. Mortimer takes Clementina's hand and leads her to Lincoln's picture.) Do you know who this is?

Clementina (looking very serious): Suah I duz, Miss' Em'line; dis heah (lays her hand on picture) is de good Massa Linkum what said to all de people eve'ywha's, up in the Norf 'n' down in de Souf, dat dere shouldn't nevah no moah be any slaves anywha's. (Joyfully and enthusiastically): Golly, but I's glad he done libed.

Mrs. Mortimer (bowing head sorrowfully and speaking slowly and softly): Yes, indeed, we are all glad of that: and now you may go, Clementine.

Clementina (comes down while Mrs. Mortimer remains looking at picture. Clementina, when near right exit, turns and runs back to Mrs. Mortimer): O, I say, Miss' Em'line, de good Marsa Linkum done gone dead now, an' won't dey take us all back foh slaves ag'in?

Mrs. Mortimer (coming down): No, you poor child, don't be afraid, slavery is done with forever and forever. No one can ever undo the work of Abraham Lincoln.

Clementina: Golly! I's glad o' dat. Bress de Lawd foh Abraham Linkum. (Dances a few steps and then exits at right, running.)

Auntie Temp: She hain't got no sense Miss' Em'line, so you-all mus' jes' nachually fohgive her foh jes' fohgettin' 'bout what all dis yere wah cost you-all. (Bowing head and speaking softly and sadly.) But I knows, I knows, Miss' Em'line, an' I's powe'ful sorry foh you-all. (Exit at right, head still bowed.)

Mrs. Mortimer (sits in rocking-chair at right-front): Yes, the cost has been great (speaking slowly and weighing each word carefully), O, how great! and our noble leader who said he now longed only to bind up the Nation's wounds has been taken from us. How will it be now, I wonder? They tell me the war is over. Lee has surrendered—but where, O where (rises and walks up and down) are my poor husband and our boy? It has been long since I have had a letter from either. Perhaps they have both died fighting for the cause in which each believed. Poor, misguided Albert! how could he ever have gone against the flag of his forefathers? (Exit at left.)

George (enters at right): Dat air Clementina Diana's jes' too much for my institution. She dinks 'case Miss' Em'line told her she done play de fife's good as a man dat she's de bigges' pickanninny on dis yere plantation. But I'll show her she cain't come none o' her friskom-fa'i'cation ovah Gawge Washington Augustus. Dis yere niggah ain't no slave no moah, an' he's gwine show dat li'l' niggah gal what's what. (Fife behind scenes.) Dah she's at it ag'in. (Enter Clementina at right, running and waving fife in air and shouting, Hurrah!) What's de matta, you crazy niggah gal? Ye des done gone out o' yore senses (runs to her and shakes her).

Clementina: Git yore dwum, Gawge Washington 'Gustus, and come on wif me: de marsa's a-comin'!

George: O, go 'long wif yore crazy talk, de massa's done gone de'd befoh dis yere. Ye s'pose he lib an' not sen' a perscripshun to de mist'ess befoh dis yere? No, dem mis'able reb bullets get him foh dis yere. I knows. (Pointing finger at her): Go 'long wid ye now! (Goes up stage.)

Clementina: Now, doan ye be so sma't, Gawge Washington 'Gustus; he's comin' foh suah—I seed 'im.

George (comes down quickly): Seed 'im? Ya mis'able good-foh-nuthin' lyin' niggah gal, how could ye seed 'im?

Clementina (slowly and solemnly): I seed a tramp comin' 'way obah de fields. I kin'a sca'd an' 'spishus. I tak Miss' Em'line's spy-glass and I looked and I seed 'twas marsa. (Dances a few steps, singing, "Marsa's come." They both run out at right. Fife and drum is heard, playing YANKEE DOODLE behind scenes.)

Mrs. Mortimer (with Sally, run in at left): I was sure I heard Clem's voice singing, "Marsa come," but there's no one here. O, why did she do it? (Drops into rocking-chair at left-front. Sally runs to her.) It was wicked of her to do a thing like that. And that dreadful tune! Sally Caroline, I think you'll have to go out and make them keep still. (Music grows fainter.)

Sally: Never mind, mother dear, they are going away now. They'll soon be out of hearing. I'll see what they are about. (Exits at right.)

Mrs. Mortimer: I never, never, want to hear that tune again. I shall always associate it with this bitter disappointment. O, I was so sure my poor husband had come. I wonder what made the child think of singing that? But, then, she is only a child; she cannot understand (buries her face in handkerchief and sobs).

Auntie Temp (enters at left and goes to side of Mrs. Mortimer): O, now, Miss' Em'line! Doan, honey, doan do dat, pore soul. Yore ole mammy knows jes' how't feels—come, now, obah heah on de sofi, an' hab a good rest. (Puts arms about her and leads her to sofa, putting pillow under her head, etc., while talking to her.) Dere, dere, honey, doan ye feel bad any moah. We-all tak de bes' caah of ye an' make ye des's happy as we kin. Des tink, Miss' Em'line, dere's Miss Sally Car'line, de lubliest angel anybuddy eber seed; she done tak des de bes' caah of ye, so des chirk up, chirk up, Miss' Em'line. Come, now, honey, tu'n obah an' go a-sleep, yore ole mammy covah ye up.

Mrs. Mortimer: And, Auntie Temp, don't ever let those children play Yankee Doodle around the house again.

Auntie Temp: Dat I won't, honey, I'll go this minnit an' see 'bout it. (Comes down stage. Sally enters at right. They meet at right-front.)

Sally (in excited undertone): Auntie Temp, what do you think? (Catches her by the arm and dances and jumps around in glee.) Father is coming across the field from the west! Your children have gone to meet him. And as I was looking around, I saw another figure coming slowly from the south. I took the glass, which was lying on the porch, and it is Albert!

Auntie Temp (excitedly): Laws honey, ye doan mean it?

Sally: Hush! I am afraid the excitement will be too much for mother. O, what shall we do? They may come rushing in any minute. (Fife and drum heard. Mrs. Mortimer groans.)

Auntie Temp: See to yore pore ma, Miss Sally Car'line, I got ter make dem niggahs shet up. (Exit at right. Music ceases in a moment.)

Mrs. Mortimer (sitting up): O, good Auntie Temp! What a comfort she is to me; she promised to make those children stop that tune and she has done it. (Sighs.)

Sally (kneeling beside her): But, mother dear, wouldn't you like to hear the fife and drum playing Yankee Doodle if it was played for joy?

Mrs. Mortimer (jumping up): For joy? What can you mean, Sally Caroline?

Sally (rising and throwing arms about Mrs. Mortimer): Don't get excited. It means, dearest mother, that you are to be happy again.

Mrs. Mortimer: O, Sally Caroline, don't deceive me! Do you mean——

Sally (interrupting): Yes, yes, it means that they (leads her slowly toward right exit) are both coming across the fields: one from the west and one from the south, and, even now, they may be in the door-yard. (Mrs. Mortimer hurries.) There, there, dear, do not overtax your strength. Remember, too, they are much changed, and you mustn't give 'way when you meet them. (Exeunt at right.)

Clementina (enters at right, waving fife, followed by George, carrying drum): Golly, wa'n't that fine? Seems lak I cu'd jes' dance mah feet off.

George: Well, ye jes' keep still, ye good-foh-nuthin' niggah gal. Nebah seed sich a crazy gal nowahs, Dere, dey's comin' now, ye better go hide.

(Clementina runs up and stands behind Lincoln's portrait so that only her face is visible. Mrs. Mortimer, Mr. Mortimer and Albert enter at right. Mrs. Mortimer is between the two and their arms are linked. Sally follows closely behind, and Auntie Temp, who is behind the others, goes to George and stands beside him.)

Mrs. Mortimer: It seems too good to be true that I have both my dear ones at home again.

Albert (breaks away from his mother and runs to Lincoln's portrait, laying his hand upon it): And, mother, I am cured of my folly. I have seen him, and I am glad the old flag was victorious.

All (excitedly): Have seen him?

Sally: O, tell us about him!

Albert (coming down): [J]It was at Richmond. I had been taken prisoner with two other young fellows. We were shut up in an old store. The President came there with some of his friends and just a few of his sailors. He passed the store and saw us staring from the window. O, the look that came over his face I can never describe, as he called out: "Break in that door and let those boys go home to their mothers." In a second we were free.

Auntie Temp: De Lawd bress him!

Albert: And, mother, when I stood face to face with him I saw that not half had been told me of his goodness and his greatness. And when I heard of his death a day or two ago, as I was begging my way across the country, to get home, I wept like a child. I knew then, as others will know later, that this was the end of life for the greatest American this country ever had.

Auntie Temp: De Lawd save us! I's mighty scar'd o' what 'comes of us pore niggahs now.

Sally (going to Auntie Temp and putting hand on her shoulder): You have nothing to fear from this time forth, Auntie Temp. Although Abraham Lincoln is dead, his spirit will live forever in the land.

Albert (comes to front-center): Yes, and he has taught the American Nation, in his own immortal words, "that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth."

Curtain

SUGGESTIVE PROGRAM

RECOMMENDED BY THE NEW YORK DEPARTMENT OF PUBLIC INSTRUCTION

DRILLS, PANTOMIMES, TABLEAUX

OLD GLORY

Marie Irish

A PRIMARY FLAG DRILL FOR FIVE LITTLE GIRLS AND FIVE LITTLE BOYS

Costumes: Each child carries a flag of fairly good size and wears a soldier cap. The caps are made of red, white and blue tissue paper and should be provided with an elastic cord that passes under the chin to hold them in place. Children also wear on each shoulder an epaulet, made of strips of cambric, an inch wide, one white, one red and one blue, sewed up in a cluster.

Music: A patriotic march.

Children enter in two files, the boys coming on at the right corner of front of stage and the girls at the left corner of front. The boys march up the right side, across back and down the left side of stage, while the girls at the same time pass up the left side, across back and down the right side of stage. On reaching the corners of front the two lines pass diagonally to center of back, first boy and first girl form a couple, each two on reaching center of back do the same, and the couples march down the center of stage to the front. During the opening march the flag is held in right hand, resting against right side, but on forming couples each couple raises flags and holds them high, staffs crossed. At the front the boys turn to right, girls to left, pass to corners of front, up sides and on reaching the back they form two lines across back of stage, girls on front line with boys back of them. Mark time, then march—five abreast—down to near-front of stage, where the lines halt, and as they do so they stand far enough apart to allow a person to pass between them. During this march the flags have been held again at right side, but now each one holds flag high. The boy nearest left of stage now leads the boys along the line of girls, going in front of the first one, back of the second, in front of the third, back of the fourth, etc. Boys return to places and halt, then girl nearest the right of stage leads the line of girls along the line of boys, going behind the first boy, in front of second, back of third, etc. The girls return to places and halt, then all hold flags with staff standing upright and resting on left shoulder. All speak:

In times of peace dear Old Glory doth wave
O'er homes and schools in this land of the brave;

(Hold flags out in front of bodies, staffs perpendicular.)

In times of trouble it stands for the Right,
And says that Justice is greater than might;

(Raise flags and wave them above heads.)

In times of battle, its colors so bright
Lead on to Victory, though fierce be the fight.

With flags held at right sides the girls now pass up the right side of stage while boys pass up the left side. At center of back form couples, raise flags and cross staffs, march in couples down center of stage to front. At front the first couple halts, second couple goes to right of first and halts in line, third couple to left of first, fourth couple to right of second, fifth to left of third. If stage is large enough let them stand in straight line across front, otherwise they can stand in curved line. The children now speak, one at a time. Each one holds the flag in position at right side until he or she speaks.

First Child (holding flag extended, arm's length at right side):

One little flag says children must be true;

Second Child (holding staff of flag horizontal along left shoulder, flag hanging down lengthwise at left side; first child now holds flag in same way):

Two flags say that we must be honest, too.

Third Child (holding staff of flag diagonally across chest, flag on left shoulder; first and second children hold flags the same):

Three flags say boys and girls must upright live;

Fourth Child (staff of flag perpendicular and resting on left shoulder; first three hold flags the same):

Four flags say, "Be unselfish when you give".

Fifth Child (holding flag in left hand, extended at left side; first four hold flags the same):

Five flags teach us, "Let Justice be your song";

Sixth Child (holding flag same as No. 2, but on right shoulder; first five children holding flags the same):

Six flags say we must grow up brave and strong.

Seventh Child (holding flag as No. 3, but on right shoulder; first six the same):

Seven flags say, "Be loyal to the Right";

Eighth Child (holding flag as No. 4, but on right shoulder, while first seven hold flags the same):

Eight flags say, "Love your home with all your might".

Ninth Child (holding flag out in front of body, staff perpendicular; first eight hold flags the same):

Nine flags say, "Do not idle time away";

Tenth Child (raising flag and holding it a little to the right side of body; first nine hold flags the same):

Ten flags say we must study hard each day,

All (in concert, waving flags above heads):

So we may grow up wise,
An honor to our land;
Fit subjects of Old Glory,
Our starry banner grand.

The center couple now marches down to center of front, couple to its right follows, couple to left of first comes next, the couple to right of second, and fifth couple last. All march, in couples, to corner of right of stage, up right side, across to center of back, down center of stage to front, across to left corner of front and off stage.

THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER

Marie Irish

A FLAG SALUTE, MARCH AND DRILL FOR ELEVEN INTERMEDIATE GRADE CHILDREN

One boy carries a flag considerably larger than the other ten carry. This boy we will call the Color-bearer. This march may be given by eleven boys or by six boys and five girls.

Music: A patriotic march.

The children enter in single file at left corner of the line, then, if girls take part, a girl next, then a back of stage, Color-bearer with large flag leading boy, etc. File marches across back of stage, back again to left side, diagonally to right corner of front, back to left corner of back, down left side, across front of stage, back to left corner and up left side, thus: