y her cruise shall be short!
She's bound to the Port she cleared from,
She's nearing the Light she steered from,--
Ah, the Horror sees her fate!
Heeling heavy to port,
She strikes, but all too late!
Down with her cursed crew,
Down with her damned freight,
To the bottom of the Blue,
Ten thousand fathom deep!
With God's glad sun o'erhead,--
That is the way to weep,
So will we mourn our dead!

THE PLACE OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN IN HISTORY.

The funeral procession of the late President of the United States has
passed through the land from Washington to his final resting-place in
the heart of the Prairies. Along the line of more than fifteen hundred
miles his remains were borne, as it were, through continued lines of the
people; and the number of mourners and the sincerity and unanimity of
grief were such as never before attended the obsequies of a human being;
so that the terrible catastrophe of his end hardly struck more awe than
the majestic sorrow of the people. The thought of the individual was
effaced; and men's minds were drawn to the station which he filled, to
his public career, to the principles he represented, to his martyrdom.
There was at first impatience at the escape of his murderer, mixed with
contempt for the wretch who was guilty of the crime; and there was
relief in the consideration, that one whose personal insignificance was
in such a contrast with the greatness of his crime had met with a sudden
and ignoble death. No one stopped to remark on the personal qualities of
Abraham Lincoln, except to wonder that his gentleness of nature had not
saved him from the designs of assassins. It was thought then, and the
event is still so recent it is thought now, that the analysis and
graphic portraiture of his personal character and habits should be
deferred to less excited times; as yet the attempt would wear the aspect
of cruel indifference or levity, inconsistent with the sanctity of the
occasion. Men ask one another only, Why has the President been struck
down, and why do the people mourn? We think we pay the best tribute to
his memory and the most fitting respect to his name, if we ask after the
relation in which he stands to the history of his country and his
fellow-man.

Before the end of 1865, it will have been two hundred and forty-six
years since the first negro slaves were landed in Virginia from a Dutch
trading-vessel, two hundred and tw