[Illustration: PETER COOPER.]

PETER COOPER.

On the seventh of April, in 1883, the great city of New York was in
mourning. Flags were at half-mast. The bells tolled.

Shops were closed, but in the windows were pictures of a kind-faced,
white-haired man.

These pictures were draped in black.

All day long tens of thousands of people passed by an open coffin in
one of the churches.

Some of these people were governors, some millionaires.

There were poor women, too, with little children in their arms.

There were workmen in their common clothes.

There were ragged newsboys.

And all these people had aching hearts.

The great daily papers printed many columns about the sad event.

People in England sent messages by the Atlantic cable that they,
too, had sad hearts.

Who was this man for whom the world mourned on that April day?

Was he a president? Oh, no.

A great general? Far from it.

Did he live magnificently and have splendid carriages and fine
diamonds?

No, he was simply Peter Cooper, a man ninety-two years old, and the
best loved man in America.

Had he given money?

Yes, but other men in our country do that

Had he traveled abroad, and so become widely known?

No, he would never go to Europe because he wished to use his money
in a different way.

Why, then, was he loved by so many?

One of the New York papers gave this truthful answer:

"Peter Cooper went through his long life as gentle as a sweet woman,
as kind as a good mother, as honest as a man could live, and remain
human."

Some boys would be ashamed to be thought as gentle as a girl, but
not so Peter Cooper.

He was born poor, and was always willing that everyone should know
it.

He despised pride.

When his old horse and chaise came down Broadway, every cartman and
omnibus driver turned aside for him.

Though a millionaire, he was their friend and brother, and they were
proud and fond of him.

He gave away more than he kept.

He found places for the poor to work if possible.

He gave money to those he found were worthy.

And though he was one of the busiest men in America, he always took
time to be kind.

His pastor, Mr. Collyer, said this of him:--

"His presence, wherever he went, lay like a bar of sunshine across a
dark and troubled day. I have seen it light up the careworn faces of
thousands of people. It seemed as if those who looked at him were
saying to themselves; 'It cannot be so bad a w