, I think he knows all about it." The President continued
at some length to refer to the aid, counsel, and encouragement he had
received from Judge Douglas, intimating that the relations subsisting
between them were of the most amicable and pleasant nature.

It was evidently the purpose of Mr. Douglas, during the present crisis,
to impress upon the country the fact, that at the outset he had declared
himself a Union man, faithful to the Constitution and the upholding of
its powers.

Mr. Douglas has left many friends and many opponents, but few enemies.
Careless of money, he died poor. Generous to recklessness, he permitted
his estate to become incumbered and taken from him. Early in life he
aimed at personal popularity, and obtained it. In later years he desired
legal honors, and they were his. Successful in all he undertook, he
raised his ambition to the highest post among his fellows, and its
possession became the sole object of his life. For its attainment
he gave everything, yielded everything, did everything, and became
everything, without success. In all things he was extreme. His loves
and hates were strong. His habits, however they may be estimated, were
apparent to all. His life--was it a failure?

His death I will but mention. It has plunged a loving family into
sorrow, and taken from a party its leader. Thousands of sentences
gratifying to his friends are written about his greatness, and the
sacredness of his memory; and no word will be uttered here to offend
them. He shall himself close this paper, and I will be the medium of
conveying in his behalf a message to his fellow-countrymen,--a message
which he spoke into the ear of his watchful wife, for the future
guidance of his orphan children:--

"Reviving slightly, he turned easily in his bed, and with his eyes
partially closed, and his hand resting in that of Mrs. Douglas, he said,
in slow and measured cadence,--

"'TELL THEM TO OBEY THE LAWS AND SUPPORT THE CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED
STATES.'"

OUR RIVER.

(FOR A SUMMER FESTIVAL AT "THE LAURELS" ON THE MERRIMACK.)

Once more on yonder laurelled height
The summer flowers have budded;
Once more with summer's golden light
The vales of home are flooded;
And once more, by the grace of Him
Of every good the Giver,
We sing upon its wooded rim
The praises of our river:

Its pines above, its waves below,
The west wind down it blowing,
As fair as when the young