Chicago Daily Tribune Newspaper, June 22, 1873, Page 7

e e et | e e e e e T My nert interviow PRESIDENT LINCOLN, yhree Interviews with Him. wld Abe ” as a ilitary Strategist, a Dinlomatist, and a Politician. J. L. Winchell in the Galazy for July. I sy first intorsiess with Mr. Lincoln was early |nJdsnuscy, 1863. It was & eoason of deop de- ression in loyal Washington circls, ‘owing to Fcent teverses of the Union arms. We had welloigh forgotten the eplendors of Grant's fly campaigns, in our impatience . with e slowness of his lster operations; robad lost faith in McClellan, finally, after the escape of Lee back into Virginis, out of our very cloiches at Antictam ; and the dismal December {hat bronght us the cruel disastor at Fredericks- puighad closed foverishly with the beginning of s groat battle in Tennessce, the details of «hich the public found it impossible to obtain. Tee new vear opened with a feeling of wild anx- jeiyinregard to .the fate of Rosecrans and his wmy in the encounter we knew he had forced xith Bragg on the banks of Stone River: Since # had gallantly marched forth from Nashville to ceet the advancing enemy, the Army of the Cumberland had been the immediate subject of ocrhopes and fears; and though the Govern- pent had permitted us to know that the hostile posts had sustained the firet shock of an sncounter, it had, beyond this pregnant an- pouscement, maintained an imponetrzble and eminous silenco. Sunday, Jan. 4, was 8 day of intepse solicitude to tho ~public, as it w8 morally certein that tho great battle psd then been fought to the end; and the evening of that day, moved by special motives, and using influonces mnot peceszary to be named, I obtained an interview with the Prosident for the purposo of ascertain- {og 58 much as possible of the truth. 1 was accompanied by one of his persopal fiends ; and when we entered the well-known peception-room & very tall, lanky man came quicly forward to moet us. His mapner scomed tome'the pertection of courtesy. I was struck with the eimplicity, kindness, and dignity of his deportmont, 8o different from the clownish man- fer with which it was then customary to invest pim. His face was a pleasant surprise, formed 22y expectations had been from the poor pho- Jographs then in vogue, and the general belief jnhisugliness. I remember thinking howmuch better looking he was than I had anticipated,and wondering that anyone should consider bim o3y, is 2xpression Was gnve and eareworn, but atill enlivened with a cheerfulneas that gave me Instant hope. After & brief interchange of com- pouglace, 1 stated my precise errand, and could mcarcely credit my senses when he told me that the Government was no betler informed than the public in regard to thoesult ot Stone river. I was prepared for any answer but this; for good news or bad pews, or & refusal to givo any answer at all; !or:yrhmg but ignorance. It did not seem poseible that a contest of the magnitude of this Zould have raged for dsys in » region of railways and telegraphs, end the Government be unin- formed 2 to the isane. 3r. Lincoln, however, proceeded at once to express_his belief that our forces had won a de- cisive victory. His mero aseertion geemed to e ot but slight importance—so shaken had my confidence been in Federal success, and €0 ac- customed had I become to the eanguine auguries of official, fenamlly contradicted by the event. Y euppoee he noticed this incredulity, for he at once undertook to give the reagons for his faith. With surprising resdiness, he entered on a de- seription of the situation, giving the numbers of tho contending armies, their movements previous to the beginning of the batile, and the general strategical purposes which should govem them both. Taking from the wall % lsrgo map of the United Btates, ad laying it on the table, he pointed oot with his long finger the geographical fea- tures of the vicinity, clearly describing the vari- ous movements 5o far 88 lknown, reasoning tigidly from step to etep, and creating & chain of babilities too strong for serions dispute. iis apparent knowledge of military ecience, and bis familiarity with the epecial features of the present campeign, Tere surprising in s msn who had been all his life a civiliam, en- ed_with -politics end the practice of the jaw, and whoee attention must necessarily be so much occupied with the perplexing detail of duties incident to his poeition. The fact once comprebended that he had profoundly studied the warin its military aspect, the less aston- ishin, though not. lese admirable, wes the logio in which he involved his facts, arguing steadily on to the hopeful conclusion which he had an- nounced at the oute st. It 18 besond my power of recollection t~ recall Aoy part of his arpnment. I only know . he made a domonstrauon that justified” his uopes, a2d which filled me with & confidence equal to is own, and excited admiration of an intellec- cual power 60 different from any which I had supposed him to posgess. It was clear that he wde the various campaigns of the war s sub- Ject of profound and intelligent study, forming Omzions thereon a8 positive and clear a8 those 22201 iz rogard Lo civil affairs, % When T left him it waa with & cheorfulness ?1: in contrast with the anxiety I had felt be- ore. The news of the next day fully verified the correctness of his judgoment by giving us the most decisive announcement of the brilliant #nd complete_success of the Army of the Cum- berlang, in spite of the mnng' and almost fatal miefortunes which had attended tho early stages of the battle. m L was several weeks later, And with a very different purpose. Gen. Sher- man, then commanding a division iu the West, uider Gen. Grant, had taken extreme messures sunst 8 nevvopaper correspondent st hio head: querters, and hisd procured his arrest and trial by s conrt-martisl, and his banishment beyond the army lines. Tt was generally felt that the Ploceeding wos barsh and unjust ; and soveral frominent - officers having represented that tho alleged offence waa technical, s memorial tsling the Prosident to set saids' the sentonce w5 yrepered and generally signed by the Touradlints 1a Washiogion. A Bunday ovening elected for the pronentation of this momo- 3 T va invited by tho gentleman having it in charge to necompany him to the Executive Mansion for that purpose. We were thros per- Bons in all, the third being s member of the House of Representatives, and we had the good fortune to find the President slono—s general 22d Congressman having just left him—and quite well disposed toward the request which we profecred. " “‘e_rvmenmg the memorial, its bearer en- fered into s detailed history of the cnse, show- “‘FdlfmSmc_a and inexpediency. Mr. Linccln - lently considered it = delicate question, and H"dmpmdzogiu it & careful investigation. e was regolved, I think, to conciliate the press, tiing which he was willng to do did not z hi petient interest. My friend seked that he tolately refning at first, ondeavored to satiefy that Gen. Grant wonld stand stubbornly by the withes tho force of an sctual order. Ay ©d persussion, and inspied by & tome expedient that would measurably satisfy Wm‘"‘“?pm;vsed arrangemert, there was thesde much, wo finally found that he tertained with the display of diplomatio § 1 com, but listened with groat interest to tho dis- st concealed 2 firmness that seemed immov- ity flfi; You want me to make an order setting fray . ; all the evidence, tnst our newspaper {riend A0d equally resoived not to sbsolutely snnul the tpear Gl after a prolonged _ discus- g{l'fll;.l;dy Testore to the injured correspondent U8 ¥ith 8 recommendation to Gen. Grant to him-~ Llion of Gen. Sherman, unless the President sion was iong and snimated. monu regard _for the banished cor- Solb prries. At times 1 thiought our point sub- A%eys in thie end a referenco of the caso o the M‘en&d nothing s all. Mooy ingenious ex- El‘l!o:nwhlch Thad i unexpectedly become a Wit~ e BOIDg on. Mr. Lincoln’s manner was all hepgd, while mlking aboat the room, which of the Conrt. I wieh tb do what basbeen 4 Jtflo o severely doalt with. Still, ection of the military anthorities. The precise Hov, in which he participated with privileges ; while tho President, not ab- telt remit tho gentence, But my friend believed B Y fend was a master of argument pondent ; and AMr. Lincoln seemned bent on tally gained; but on defining the exact Idemeat of Genoral Grant. Seeming to Were proposed and m{ecbed and I was Bees; for] had very little part in the conversa- mflmfinn nd kindzess and sympathy; but 38 500d deal, ho exclaimed: 5ght, and what son zsk; fof it séomi to'me, l""“‘fln‘hupamiuaxe of all the circum® THE CHICAGO DATLY TRIBUNE: SUNDAY, JUNE- 22,1873, 7 ;:n:cfi,‘:nd Gstlx Onn: is; and I do not see ¥ Pproperly gr: your . request without being sustained hymn consent. But let us see what we cani_do; I will write something to put our idoas into shapé; and, with a pleasant Llfllfh, he began at once to search for papers and pen. He was aided in this effort by little Tad," who was present—and, I must say, somewhat troublesome—and toward whom his father fteguentl_v manifested the most anxious and considerate affection. He found a piece of paper with some difficulty on the table (littered ‘with documents lying iu complete disorder), and ;;:kry poor pen, with which he at once sot to The draft which he made was quite satisfac- tory. It was brief, cloar, and precise 1 it stated the case: truly, revoked the sentenco of the court, and gave s correspondent the privilege of returning to Gen, Grant's headquarters. -We were delighted with the document, and, of course, said go. “But,” said the . President, “I had. botter make this conditicnal on the spproval -of Gen. Grant. Yon see it would not scem right for me to send back s correspondent to the General's headquarters in case he knew of any roason why the mari should not be there. I will justadda few words;” and so he did, making the order close a8 follows: *‘And to romain if Gen. Grant shall givo his express assent; -andto again leave the department if Gen. Grant shall refuse said assent.” 3 . *There,” ho remarked, **I think that will be wbout right, and I have no doubt Gen. Grant will assent.” And eo be did. It was useless to contend further with thia firm but flexible will, which alwass gave you an impression that it was about to yield, but which, -when once resolved, was absolately immovable. The document thus preparod was, in fact s militsry * order, and wondered _ it bho mado any rocord” of its: - exist- ence. He had not called in the aid of any of his Secretaries, and I afterward inquired of Mr. Nicolay if any record of it had been made. He aid not, and was even ignorant of its existenco ; and added s focling remark on tho Prosidont's official habits, which were reckless of all order, and gave his Becretarios no ond of trouble. This affair concluded, the President scemed disposed to prol:gfi the interview. - Our conver- sation took & military diroction, and embraced the various movements boing made or lmown to be in contemplation. Mr. Lincoln seemed pleased to discuss the war ; ‘in fact, the informal nature of our convereation was a re- liof to his mind, overworked znd_jaded ashe was by all tho ‘cares, official sud political, to which he was daily subjected. Presently he startled us by declaring Lo saw_no hope of suc- cess for. any of the campaigns now. beiog opened. - ‘Having gone thus far, and seeing our surprise and exity, he scemed animated by a desiro to justify his statement. Going to the wall, snd again taking down the largo map which he had pressed into servico on the provious occasion, he Pproceeded to inform us, wlich we did not posi tively know before, that there wero now throe important movements being attempted by our forces toward points against which our efforts had proviously proved unsuc- cessful. One of thess, he said, was cgainst Richmond, on the same general plan substan- tially attempted by Burnside; ono against Charleaton, from the ses, by the combined land and naval forces ; and ono against Vicksburg, by way of the Yazoo Pass nod the network of ‘bayous and small streams by which the Misais- sippi is flanked, and throngh somo of which it ‘was hoped to_transfer Gen. Grant's forces toa point from which & successfal ssssult might be made on that grest strovghold, which had thus far defied our most determined attacks. “ And I cannot see how either of theso plans can succeed,” said be; and, forthwith throwing aside all roserve, and speaking with 28 much spparent frankness a8 though conversing with his confidential advisers, he freely criticised the conduct of the campaigns in quostion, going into the detailsof & military argument, ang lo- gically demonstrated in advanco that Grant woult again be foiled in his strategy sgainst Vicksburg, that Hooker would _fail to reach Richmond, and that Du Pont and Hunter would be compelled to retire ‘baffled from before Charleston. Ido not now re- member the reasons he gave for his judgment in regard to the two movements-last named, but I recollact well his clear description of the narrow and winding water-coursea through which Grant was endeavoring to conduct his gunbosats, gen- erally impassable for large craft, either through too high or low water, end capable of fatal o stroction in the foresfs which they penetrate, by &0 enemy intimately acquainted with every fea- ture of the country, and who had only proved ‘himself too well informed 0f all our movements, and equally active and succes:fol in oppasing our progress into his own country. It was. known that Mr. Lincoln enterfsined military opinions quite independent of and often ot variance with those of his advisers ; and I bad before had a striking proot of tho correctness of his judgment. I confess, however, that I was a8 much astonished as disheartened by this un- reserved condemnationof the conduct of the war on the part of the Government of which he was the head ; and I scarcely knew whother I waa most astonished by his remarkable frankness or annoyed at his convincing argument. I enid: #41f you fesl 80 confident of disaster in all these movements, Mr. President, why do you permit them to be mado ? “ Bacause I cannot prevent it,” he roplied. “ But you sre Commander-m-Ciief,” I re- joined. “ My dearir,’, he replied, * Tam_ 8% power- less &3 lng privatoe citizen to shape the military plans of the Government. 1 have my generals and my War Department, and my subordinates are supposed to bo more capable than I am to decide what movements shall or shall not bo un- dertaken. I have once or twice attempted to st on my own convictions, eand found that, it was impracti- cablo fo doso. T ses campaigns undertaken in which I have no faith, and have no power to pro- vent them ; and I tell you that sometimes, when I reflect on the management of our forces, I am tempted to despair ; my heart goes clear down into my boots.” * ith this characteristio climax he practically closed the discussion. Rieing from his chair ho moved-uneasily about the room, as though to shake off some feeling that oppressed him. Sud- denly he seemed to realize that he had been speaking oo freely. ) 01 course, gentlemen,” said ho, “ we are talking in confidence; and 8s friends. Nome of this must get into print, or be repested.” We took our leave soor after, but I was_long baunted with the recollection of whatI had heard. . My admiration for the man and his high morsl and intellectual qualities were increased, and my confidence in our military chieftains, never very high previously, was proportionately diminished. As before, the events justified his prediction. Our attacking forces were beaten off from Charleston ; the Army of the Potomac was hurled back upon the north at Chancellors- ville; and Grant and Porter were completely paffled in their ill-judged experiment in the hos- tila swamps of the Mi inigpi, which they at- temptad to penetrato through streams foo nar- row to turn & gunboat in, and surrounded by a restless foe ever ready to exhaust all the means of impediment and destruction. And though Mr. Lincoln's opinions may have owed their cor- Tectness to accident, yet I conld not resist & fecling that he had a strength of brain and soundness of judgment which measurably sup- glied the want of military training, and which tted him better to plan campaigns than any of the professional oldiers to whose views he felt himself copelled to yield. oL My last interview wss of s politioal natare, and occurred during the spring of 1864. The great political question of the day was the l&pxowhing Presidential election. The frien: of he various aspirants ‘were, st work ascertainin, and ehaping public sentiment, but no candidate had yet been actually put forward for the Republican nomination, o movement in favor of the Secretary of the Treasury, Mr. Chase, had cul- minated in disaster ; that gentleman’s chief sup- rters, inclnding his Benatorial gon-in-law, hay- Ing manifested a peinfal lack of nerve or zeal, when the critical question became public of ar- raying him agaipst his official chief, and made haste to take him at his word of declination, diplomatically spoken in order to rouse their flag- ging spirits. And yet Mr. Lincoln was not known a8 scandidste. It was believed that ho would not decline a renomination, and his enemies affirmed that he was intriguing to procure one; but there waa no jot of evidence before the public that he hnd given the subject a moment's thought. = Yet g0 strong was his prestige with the people, 6o tly was his power of patronage !e&'red by o politicians, and such was the awo of his per- sonal ability which weighed on those trimming patriots who regard it a8 a point of conscience Dover to be committod to the fosing side, that by » sort of consent the wire-pullers were all wait- | ing to discover his purposes and wishes bofore commitiing themeelves strongly to any competi- tor. It choncod _ at this time that s member of the BSenate who claimed me as 8 constituent was anxioualy looking forward to bis own ro-eléction, which was somewbat in peril. The Legislature which was to doiermine his destiny was to be elected at the same time with the President; and_ss he-was o warm-friend of Mr. Lincoln, -with “whom he had greatin- fiuence, ho had Tesolved to be ono of the fore- most champions for the renomination and ro- election of the latter, and to tnake common cause with him in -his-State, and thersby incredse, as he thought, his own popularity snd. chances of - success. The Senstor had always flattered mo with sssurances that I had some influence in our State politics, and had used many and, thus far, unsncceaafal means to attach me to his political fortunes. Hence, I was not greatly eurprised when he came to me one day and invited s confidential conversation on National and State politics. - I had no reason for refusing, and he proceedsd to unfoid a plan which had for its object the promotion of the” interests of Presidont: Lincoln, of him- self, and—flattericg conjunction {—of the humble and _ unofficial individusl who “srites this chronicle. As both the other parties involved are dead, their ambitions cut short by the bullets and their scheminge of no more .ac- count now than a last year's simanac, I violate: 5o confidence in the vague akelch I am sttempt- Tho preliminarv conditions of secrecy andgood faith being scttled, tl:o Sonator procceded te do- velop his plans. Mr. Lincoln, he saseured me, was and wouid continue to be » candi- date for renomination, and on grounds of private friendship and of patriotism e, the Sen- ator, wae most anxious for his success: Of this he eutertained very little_doubt, belisving that tho President had a growing strength that would carry Lim over all obstaclos, both before the Convention, and at thio polls in Novembor. Hav- ing mado up his mind to thin effect, bo was most anxions to carry for Mr. Lincoln our State, both to increase his own power 83 & Lincoln man therein, and to still further strengthen himself with the President during the sccond term. In “fact, if the State could be thus carried in conven- tion and at the polls, theSouator assured mo that s most influential pesition (naming.it) swsited his acceptance in the new Cabinet; and, comin, plumply to the Koint, he promisod mo then an there, if I would enter tho canvass in our State for both candidates, to give mo the choico of a high diplomatic position in Europe or an office in Washington, “in which [his exact words] the prosent incumbent says ho bas made & million of dollars and has wronged nobody.” Notwithstanding my geneial humility of spirit, and an absence of strong aspiration for offices ‘which either requira more money than the salary to support them, as our forel}m diplomatic ones do, or depend on a system of stealing to com- pensate tho incambent for the very ardaous and Tesponsible duties required, I was not guite ovarcome by the brilliancy of- this proffer. Not to claim extraordinary philosophy or virtuo, L will say that I had no very intenso faith in poli- tical promises, and especislly in those made by the gentleman with whom I was conversing. Neitherdid I desire to becomo his political sup- porter; and neither, for that matter, had I con- cluded that President Lincoln ought to be re- pominated. Ihsd beon s Chase man, and had shared with a great many Republicansa profound dissatisfaction with the modo in which Mr. Lin- coln had zllowed tho -war to be conducted. Hence, when I eaw the point towards which the purpose of the Bonator tended, I began to scek Some easy mesns of escape from the dilemma in which I was becoming involved. Therefore, not belioving his statoment_in regard to his undor- standing with the President, I introduced, cun- ningly us I thought, a diplomatic hint that theser- vico he proposed to me was such' as required mo to learn from Mr. Lincoln himself that it would bo acceptsble, and to matisfy myself of the reality of the close relations existing between tho two. Mucl to my surpriso, the Benator, after alittle refloction, assented to' my suggestion 2a being reasonable and proper. He promised me s pri- vate interview with Alr. Lincoln in adayor two. and, to my amazement, kopt his promiee. Of cowrss I nad no alternative but to keop on my part the appointment he had made for me, though with the distinct understanding that it ebould in no way commit mo to any further sction. At the time appointed, therefore, the Senator tookme to the Whito House, and ushered mo formally into the Executive presence. This done, and with a phrase or two of compliment, sud without even seating himself, he retired with groat dignity and in good order, leay- ing ma to my fate, and content, apparently, with having stamped on my visit tha seal of hia Sena- torial sanction. Mr. Lincoln recoived me, as ever, kindly and courteonsly ; but his mauner was quits changed. It was not now the country about which his anxiety provailed, but himself. There was an embarrassmont about him which he could not mite conceal. I thought it proper to state in the outset (not knowing what the Senator might have eaid) that I wished simply to know what- aver ho waa free to tell me in regard to his-own willingness or unwillingness to accept & re- nomination, and also 88 to the extent to which the Senator was authorized to speak for bim. The roply wasa monologue of an hour's duration, and one that wholly absorb- ed me, as it seemed to absorb himself. There ‘was very little for me to say, and I was only too willing to listen. He remained seated nearly all the time. He +was restless, often changing position, and occa- sionally, in_some intense moment, wheeling his body around in his chair, and throwing & leg over the arm. This was the only grotesquo thing I recollect about him; his voice and man- ner were very esrnest, and he uttered no jokes, and told no anecdotes. is bogan by seying that, as yet, he mas not s candidste for renomination. He distinctly de- nied that he was a party to any effort to that end, notwithstanding I kmew ihat there wero ‘movements in his favor in all parts of the North- ern States. These movements were, of course, without his prompting, as ho_positively sasurod me that with one or two exceptions ho had scarcely conversed on tho subject with his most intimate friends. Ho was not quite sure whether he desired_a renomination. Such had been the responsibility of the office—so oppres- give had he found its cares, so terriblo its per- plexities—that he felt as though the moment when he could relinquish the burden and retire to private life would be the sweetest ko could oseibly experience. But, be eaid, he would not Beny ttiat a ro-olection would also have its grati- fication to his foelings. He did not seek it, nor would he do 0 ; he did not desire it for any am- bitious or selfish purpose; but, - sfter the crisis the country Wwas passing {brongh under his Presidency, . snd the efforis he had made conscientiously to discharge the duties imposed fl%gn him, it wonld be & very sweet satisfaction to him to know that he had sscured the approval of his fellow-citi- zens and earned the highest testimonial of con- fidence they conld bestow. This was the gist of the hour's_monologuo; 2nd I beliove bo spoke sincerely. His voice, his manver, armed his modest and sensible words with a power of conviction. He_ seldom looked mo in the face while ho was talking ; he scemed almost ta be gazing into_ the future. Iam sure it was not & ploasant thing for him to seem to be speaking in his own interest. He furthermore assured me that the Senator had his full confidence, and that ho should re- ;pm any proper promises the latter might make. or himseli, he affirmed (gratuituosly, for I had Dot said anything to lead in that direction) that he should make no promises of office to any one, 88 a0 inducem=nt for_support. If nomina and elected, he shoi!d bp grateful to his friends, and consider that they had cizims on him; but the interests of the conntry mus: Always bo first considered. Meantime, Lo supposed he should be a candidate ; things seemed to be working in that direction ; and if I could assist him and nis friend the Sensator in my State, he should not fail to remember the service with gratitudo. I think I may be justified- in remembering my interview with this remarkable man ascne of the most memorable of msny impressive recol- lections. I voted for him with greater satisfac- tion for it, thongh I cannot sgo my way clear ta adopt the programme made by the Senator. I could not identify the two interests according to his wish, withont a violation of conscience and consistency, which I valued moro than I did the prospectivo rowards with which he songht to dazzle my feoble eyes. To him I excused my- self as delicatoly as I was ablo ; thanking him in my heart only for the glimpse he had enabled me to get of a loftier nature and greater intel- lect than often nises into view in our muddy politics. —_— THE FERTILE TEARS. Unbroken sunshino and perpetual beat AMake deserts only, Clouds that bring no rain Bhelter no gardens ; axd thine eyer, my swoct, Must know what tears are, fond eyes {0 remain. —T. . Parsons —_—— Why Ex~Gov. Jenkins was Given the Seal of Georgia. - The reason why s gold fac simile of the seal of Goorgia has beon presented to_ex-Gov. Jenkins, by a voto of the Legislature, ia thus explained by the Savannah News - ¢In 1867, when Jenkins was Governor, the Congressional roconstruction troubles- set in. Aftor the meeting of the conveution which adopted the Constitution of 1568, its membera: begen to hunger and thirst after the money in the State Treasury: Gen. Popo called on Gov. Jenking 10 draw his warrant on. the Treasury for & sufficient sum of money to- pay the per diom and mileage of the members'of - the Con- vention. He declined to do €0, 33 n0 appropria- tion for such s purpose had been made bv the Legislature; The then and now 1rer,. snother noble Roman, would not psy the money without Executive warrant. About this time Popo was removed and Meade took his place. Meade made another effort to get funds out- of tho Governor and Treasurer, failing in which he removed them and put military officials in their places. Jones left no money in the Treasury, Jenkins carried the seal of the Execative Department with him into private life, retaining it until the olovation of ‘Gov. Smith, when he returned it *to his first honest and rightfully- elected succesgor,’ as he styles Gov. Bmith in his romarkable letter written at the time, which has becomo part of the history of Jenking and of Georgia.” ———————— THE SHIP-BELLS. Thoout-bound ships pass on snd om, And wape upon the sca, - And o'er tho billow’s braken: lireast, ‘Their bolls steal back to me— And break a trombling, sobbing throng, Tpon the sands in dim, swest 30ng, Of riven melody. And salling o'er swect flelds of gold, * And clouds, and summer Hue, Through slanting sun, and shadows dun, The sails alip through and through, /And throbbing bells that tremble back, Upon the fair ships’ fading track, Tho waves with echoes atrew, And atill tho ships go of and on, Out gates of hazs gray, As dreams upon the Alumbering senss, unfulfilled away ; And leave but memory's grisving bells, That sob and moan like ocean shells, Ever and alway. And thus our lives go on and on, Like ships unceasingly, Through morning’s gold, and shadows cold, That check time's varied sea. God grant that like the sweet ship bells, The good that in my being dwells, May echo after me. Chicago. . ConNT= Laws 8t. Jom. The foregoing poem appeared in the Chicago Times of Sunday, June 8. The laat time we eaw this poem was io the columns of Our Fireside Friend of April 20, 1872. 1In the latter publica- tion it stands without signature, and the first Line reads : The tall whits ships pass on and on, instead of ‘The out-bound ships pass on and on. No other difference is noticed. FIRST WHITE MAN AT CHICAGO. T the Editor of The Chicago Tribune : S1n: Not many dsys ago, there appeared in the columns of your paper a commanication from s gentloman, who, with commendable taste, calls tho attention of Chicagoansto an interesting chapter in the history of early exploration in the region of Lake Michigan, and heads the attract- ivo article ‘‘Chicago and Father Marquotte.” Col. Foster recites briefly the beautiful story of Marquette's journeyings hereabout ; of the cour- age, zeal, and patienco of the toiling, gentle, sick, and dying missionary. Bngruku, Perkins, snd Bancroft, as well algo as Mr. Bhea (who quotes touchitg details by Dublon, tho contemporary of Marquette), Liave subsequantly told us of the good French Father. Bancroft, more than thir- ty years since, closed a brilliant paragraph abont Marquette, with the following prophecy: * The people of the West will build his monument.” Now, s Chicago may be considered the ropre- sentative city, the heart, 6oul, and head-centro of the Great West, it wouldindeed be fitting that Marquette's monument should be erocted here, bgreeably to Col. Foster's suggestion, in com- memoration of his discoveries, and of tho second centennial of his first visit hers. And, though the search would probably be s fruitless one, yet let his romains be looked for at ** Old Mackinayw," whither they were convesed, having been exhumed from the bank of the River ¢ Marquotte ” (the *Piorre Marquetto” is s \lni.,usnnmer), where ho breathed his last, May 18, Thore is one item in_the proposed inscriptjon offered by Col. F., however, which I think should be reconstricted. The ovideneeis no doubt reliable, and it can be shown, that Mar- quette, who, with Joliet, found hia way to Chi- cago from Green Bay, via the Rivers Wisconsin, Minsisrippi, Ilinois, and Des Plaines, was not gi‘q first white man to stand upon the site of icago. Nicholas Perrot, & French white man, the sgent of Courcelles, Intendant of New France (in place of Talon, ' who had gone to Paris), was sn ambassador to'call 8 congress of varions nations of red men at the Falls of 8t. Mary, to meet in May or June, 1671 ; and he was escorted from Green Bay by the Pottawotsmies, on thig mission of friendship, to the Miamis at Chicago. This was in the spring of 1671, more than two yoars before Marquetta passed over the Chicago portage, from his discovery of the Tpper I\hnmuififi. We are to] that Sieur Nicolet (not s missionary and “Father,” as some- times eaie), an interproter for tho Canadian Government, visited Grean Bay ns early na 1639; but we have no advice that ho extended his journey to Chicago. To Nicholas Porrot, then, belongs the renown of being the first whife man at Chicago. Yours, ey Hexay H. Hoeusur. Cr104o, June 17, 1873 FASHIONS. From the New York Mail. Bronze jewelry is one of the latest novelties. —Cronlers predict o dull season at the large watering-places. —Very brilliant jewelry is made of the heads of Brazilian humming-birds set in gold. ~—The most beautiful tortoise-shell jewelry in the worldis made in Naplos. —The most stylish young ladies intown have struck against the tyranny of the milliners, and make their own bonnets. —Croquet still continues in favor, aud surrep- titions hoops still entrap the feeb of unwary wanderers on shady lawns. —A New York lady wears aset of Etrnscan Luvnl.ry ‘made over a thousand years 2go, which pronounced -superior in design and finish anything madeat present, . z —Some very sianderous person ssserts that five Néw Yark ladies havs gone to Paris this spring for the express purpose of having .their “cui' onllx:mloi a —Pearls require airing as'much as horses ani babics. Unless they are conatantly worn, thoy change color, and finally crumble to pieces. This is not thie oase with diamonds, thongh many New York Indies act as if they thonght it wss. —The Iatest thing in glove boxes is the exact fac-simile of ‘& glove in Russia leather. It is deep, opens_on the side, -and the-glove Ats the box *‘ exactly like s glove.” These unique af- fairs” have just been introduced here, and are in Vienna. . A Japanese Fire Yeddo Correspondence of the New York Tridune, On Monday night, at 2 o'clock, s fire brake oub in the Mikado’s palace. In 10 minutesthe whole structure was in flames; and in less than an hour it was burned to the ground. The. native troops and firemen were promptly on hand and preserv- ed order. They could do little else, a8 the build- ings burned too fast to be saved, and the moata stopped the dpmgre:fl of-the fire, The Emporor, accompanied by zhis own body-guard of lancers, went to his mother's palace near by, and there the Empress and the Court joined the next day, The palaco snd outbuildings were_totally destroyed. It is eaid that e pew one will be built from tho plans of a_foreign architect, to cost about 82,(:20,000. Taeso fires come invery conton} ero the iently for the pdiToseof restoration. ent fire 6wepl clean a yesr 8go, the streots fave been 5tni§hunad «ud widened, snd rows of two-story brick buildings are being erected. These are built after foreign mc3als, -nd( for two miles, the principal street of Yolde looks like that of any largo city in America or Ea- rope. It only needs a horse-railroad track in the centre, and that will be there very ehortly. Some evil-disposed persons are giving publicity to the ramor that the palace was set on fire by incendiaries, for political ressons. Such s story ia totally untrue. The fire was cansed by one of the Empress’ ladies, who, as the night was chilly, had taken & brazier of charcoal into her bed. 'During the night this fair young damsel, this high-born maid of honor, sclected for her beauty and her rank to serve the Emperor's brido,- kicked, mpset the brazier, scattered tho lighted charcosl over the cotton quilts, and & new palace will be the result. A elico of turnip too much—possibly & fish bone in the throat —will cost $2,600,000, A Charitable Soul. Froma Parls Letter. . M. Audibert, Director of the Paris, Lyons & Mediterrancan Railway, was buried yestorday. Ho was 3 capable sdministrator, sad da homme du monde._ Many stories ore now told of him. It is said he always omptied his pockets of- ‘money betore getting home at night in deeds of charity, andone day left his csb with s mns}e pieco Of money. As” hepnt hisfoot to tho and one of his habitual beggars held out his nd and received the piece. AL Audibert had ' potning left to pay the cabman, who remarked- that when one conld not pay bis faro one went on foot. - A ncm&{ollowur Just then the beg-, gar came tp and offered to loar his day’s earn- inge, four franca fifty centimes. : M. Audibert accepted it with & hearty laugh, paid the.cab- man, and the next day sent the beggsr 500 francs. . NR. MILL'S FUNERAL SERVICE. BY ¥ARGARET B. BUCHANAY. S It is not craditable to the exactness of modern philosophy that, When- a great man dies, -his best friends cannct agree regarding the school of philosophyin which he is to be classified. The debate as to whether Mr. Mill ‘was or was nota Utilitarian, onght to be considered practic- ally eettled, notwithstanding the efforts that are still being made to make him one; and notwithstanding the error of 8o sharp a writer 28 the Rev. Moncure D. Conway, Who, in.tho Cincinpati Commercial, says: ‘‘ Tho England of to-day will be known to posterity 2s the age of Darwin and Mill, who have done the same -work in different directiods. . Darwin hizs proved that the organio world i the sum of - an immeasur- able series of seleoted mtilities; and Mill has #hown that the moral world is the sum of o fike series of moral and Treligious utilities.” Mr. Conway, in his desire to eulogize Mr. Bill, has thrown . Jeremy Bentham's cloak upon him, to bring out his-figure botter. 1t is of no moment now to add that Mr. Darwin is likewiso credited with more than is his, for surely no man has yet proved what Mr. Conway attributés to Mr. Darwin, and the most extrava- gant statement Mr. Darwin has himself yet made upon the subject is,. that ho believes that animals have. descended from, st most, only- four or fivo progenitors; and that, while snalogy would lead onme step further, to the belief that snimals and plants are descended from some one prototype, nevertheless ** analogy may be a deceitful gnide.” Indeed, it is very doubtful whethor evolution, in ita pure sense, is susceptible of proof or dis-' proof. It ia destined to remain o theory, unless geological discoveries occur of the most mo- mentous character; and of these Mr. Darwin is not the most sanguine prophet. It is undoubtedly true that AMr. Mill believed himself & Utilitarian; but it is equally true that e was not one, if the principles lud down by Locke are to be accepted agninst Mr. Mill's utter- ances. It is true that Mr. Mill, as stated in Tre ThIpUNE a few days ago, sought to be an apostle 8 woll as & disciple of Utilitarianism, and suc- ceeded in demonstrating that not only was he not abeliever in the vicious principles of that jsm, but that its principles were too manifeatly vicions for any Christian mind to admit. His attempt to identify “interest” and “duty,” in his examination of Bir William Hamilton’s phi- losophy, led him to tho remarksble declaration, quoted by Tar TarsuNt, that, if goodness be ono thing in man and snother in God, and the goodness of God be irreconcilable with goodness in man, and he must go to Hell 1f he did uot worship this sort of a God, to Hell ho would go. On this, 8t. George Mivart, in his * Genesis of Spocies,” in which he combats Darwin, ssys, in the chapter on ¢ Evolation and Ethica:” *This is unquestion- ably an admirable sentiment on the part of Mr. Mill (with which every absolute moralist will sgree); but it contains a completo refatation of his own position, and is a capital instance of the vigorous life of moral intuition in one who pro- fenses to have eliminated any fandamental dis- tinction botween the ‘right’ and the ‘expedi- ent.'” 14 is difficult to classify Mr. il as & philoso- pher. If philosophy be thought divergent from exact principles, and not speoulations divergant from spoculations, Mr. 3fill was not a philoso- pher, in the technical sense, st all. He wasa humanitarian-politician. It is conspicnously in this capacity that he has been powerfal in his country and in his sime. Itis for his philoso- phy of politics, and not for his philosophy of morals, that the world owes him a debt; and it is this fact which lends extraordinary significance to a volume just from the press, which constitutes another of the many discourses poured over Mr. Mills’ coffin. He did not need to live to answer the book. It is entitled Liberty, Equality, Fraternity,” snd is written by Jamos Fitzjames Stephen, & Queen's Councilor, who was one of Her Majes- ty's civil servants in India. It is violentin tone; but its denunciation is not so senseless as wholly to deprive its logic of force. He sclects Mr. Mill specifically for his target, ** because,’ o Bays, **no writer of the present dsy has ox- pressed himself upon these subjects with any- thing like tho eame amount either of eys- tem or of sbility.” He profosses to agroe sufficiently with Mr. Mill to differ from him profitably ; and dissents from his views on hu- man nature and human affairs.” The fault he finds with Mr. Mill, under the first head, may be briofly stated, and needs only 4o be stated to be forgiven and forgotten. He says that Mr. Mill overestimates the goodness of humannature. He elaborates this with much persistence. Itisof one of those crimes of which mankind convict s man for the purpose of covering hir: with grester honor than an ac- quittal. Mr, Stephen attacks Mr. Mill as a political economist, or, sa it is better to say, as s politi- cian, with decided vehemence. Mr. Mill was & theoretical democrat, Mr. Btephen iss theo- rotical Pessimist. From the temper of his book, it is not easy to underatand why he consents to liveina world whichis going with so rapid speed, and a0 awfal certainty, to the devil. To understand clearly what Mr. Stephen aseails, it is well to quote from Mr. Mill himself a succinct statement of the essence of his political dreams. His eensitiveness concerning the rights of minorities, and the individual rights of con- science, draw him at once within the ranks of pura democracy and of pure Christianity. There is no truer political principle - than this to be found in the dissertations of ancient or Ameri- can republicans: * There is & limit fo the legitimate interference of collective optnion with individual independence ; and to find that limit, and maintain it sgainst encroschment, is as indispenssble to s condition of human affairs, as protection against political despotism.” 'And, concerning the rights of conacience, Mr. Mill says: “ Yot 80 natural to mankind is intol- erance in whatever they really care sbout, that religious freedom has hardly anywhere been re- alized, except whers religicus indifference, which dislikes to have ita peace disturbed by theo- logical quarrels, has sdded its weight to the scale. In the minds of almost all religious per- sons, the duty of toleration, even in the most tolerant countries, is admitted with tacit reserves. One person will bear with dis- gent in matters of church-government, but not of dogma; another can tolerate evorybody ehort of & Papist or an Unitarian. . . . . Wherev- er the sentiment of the majority is still gen- uine and intenso, it is found to have abated little of ita claim to be obeyed." Thess sztracts are taken from Mr. Mill's esssy on Liberty,” which is literally the text of AMr. Stephen's book. In the same volume, Mr. Mill 1sya down the principle which, in his judg- ment, is to govern sbsolutely the dealings of society with the individmal: *That prin- ciple s, that the sole end for which mankind aro warranted, individually or collectively, in inter- foring with the liberty of sny of their number, is gelf-protection ; that the only purpose for which power can b rightfully exercised over any member of & clvilized community sgainst his will, is to prevent harm to others.” In other words, Mr. Mill would reduce politi- cal government to a mere police-system, elim- inating from it every vestigo of the ‘¢ paternal theory, The gravest chargo that csn bo bronght against Alr. Mill fairl; is, that hois vague and un- practical. But, if tho history of the American Republic, and the present condition of the Ger- man Empire, do not prove that in the simplest police-syatem, in the utter abscce of ‘patar- nity " in government, lies tho only possible safety for individual rights and rights of conscience, surely nothing is demonstrable. Bat it ia especially in this that Mr. Stephen, attacks Mr. Mill. s Mr. Stephon believes in religions coercion.’ He does not say whether, had he been & Protestant in Mary's days, ar & Catholic in Cromwoll's, he would have beon likely tp hold the same opinion. But he defonds Henry VIIL. ana Elizabéth on the grotnd of expediency, He eondemns universal suffrage. He thinks: the Bucgess of America is due to sudden- wealth,— not to sound political principles,. of which, in his opinion, we have precisely the roverse. He Ianghs at humanitarianism, and maintains that equality dwarfs men. Ho sppoars o be willing to be despot or serf, as the case may require. The book is one of the most marvelous eccen- tricitios of the age. If it be difficult to classify Mr. Mill a8 & philosophor, it is much more difi- cult to classify Mr. Stephen. - Itis of little consequence that Macaulay, 88 Mr. Conway reminda us, pronounced Mill's phi- losophy harmless’ cant,—‘not much mora laughable than phrenology, and immessurably more humane thau cock-fighting.” The infu- énce of what Mill has said and done in British ‘politics may not cause monuments to bo erected to him in-public squares dovoted to the emblazonment of great. British butchere. Bat that ‘influonce hsd boen signifi- cant in every constitutional- widening - of British! government... It “has been signifi- cant—tho . most = significant - influence. of all—in the gradual attempts, comparatively suc- cessful a8 they have been and must be within s commonweslth that moves by conservative marches only, toward universal suffrage. It has been significant 1n repudiating English precedenss in Ireland, and eubstituting religion almost froo, and education somewbat less go. Tt has been significant in furnishing schools and building railroads in India, at the cost, in- deed, of a greater demand for artillery there, aud with the consequence of ‘raising up Mr. James Stephen, who, to carry out his political ‘principles consiatently, and not Mr. Mill's, -must oclose the schoals, devote the railroads solely to tha transportation of British troops, and, follow- ing the examplo of an illustrions conservative predecessor, constitute the artillery the teacher of the Sepoys, and finish their curriculum by & single lesgon from the cannon's mouth. It is not surprising that Macaulsy should have failed to comprehend Mill, or to measure his influence upon the future of English politics. It ia natural for contemporaries in the same fleld to undervalue each other. They are personally too near to ob- tain a mutual perspective. Macaulay failed to sppreciate Mill, not because he was a rival hus- bandman tilling the same philosophical feld, but because he sat on the fence of the fleld in which Mill worked ; and his field-glass, under such eircumstances, never failed to diminish the object at which it was leveled. It msag- nified dead men only. Bat Macaulay is not to be tried by special in- dictment for his ridicule of Mill. Johnson saw little merit in the writings of any man cf his time except his own, and waa very bitter upon Gray for being * trifiing and dall,” Churchill's line, Who rules o'er freemen must himself be fres, he doclared rank nonsense ; as sensible 25 to aay : Who slays fat oxen must himself ba fat, Corneille was certain that Racine should aban- don tragedy: Bir Walter Scott was admonished to stop writing ; and criticisms of Washington Irwing, written doring his life, declare the ¢ Bketch-Book " ‘‘ heavy and dissgreeable.” 1t is not far from the truth to say that Macsulsy's ponderons laughter at BMill reads as well in England to-dsy asdoes the gravity of the English critic who rebaked Mark Twain's irreverence in ‘‘Innocents Abroad.” ‘Whatever ia good, whatever is robust, in the hu- mane speculations of the gentle mind asleep in Avignon, has taken permanent hold of English soil ; and from thence shall grow great oaksof English liberty, whose leaves will garland the sightless eyes of John Stuart Mill. THE FRIEND’S BURIAL. My thoughtsare all in yonder town, ‘Where, wept by many teara, To-day hy mother's friend lays down The burden of her years. True s in life, no poor disguisa Of death with her s neel;{ And on her simple casket lies No wreath of bloom and green. O not for her the florist’s art, The mocking weeds of woe, But blessings of the voiceless heart, ‘The love that paaseth show! Yot all about the softening air Of new-born sweetness tells, And the ungathered May-flowers wear The tinta of ocean shells. ‘The old, assuring miracle Is frosh as heretofore; And earth takes up its parable 0f lifo from death once more. ‘Here organ swell and chureh-bell tolt Methinks but discord were, The prayerful silencs of the soul Is best beftting ber, No sonnd should break the quistuds Aliko of earth and ! 5 0 wandering wind in-Beabrook wood, 23 Breatho but a half-heard sigh! 8ing softly, spring-bird, £or her sake, And thor not dietant u.;,“_ Lapse lightly 88 if Jesus spaks, And thou wert Galilee For all ber quiat life flowed on 2023 ‘As meadow streamlets flow, ‘Where fresher green reveals ‘The noisaless ways they go. From her lovad place of prayer I ses The plain-robed monrners pass, With slow feet treading reverently The graveyard's grass. ake 0 mourning dnes for me, ‘Where, the friends of Paul, That yor nomore her face shall sea You sorrow most of * Her path shall brighten siore and more Unto the perfsct day ; Bhe csznot fail of pesce who bore Buch peace with her sway. O sweet, calm face that seemed to wear “The ook of sins forgiven 1 O voice of prayer that seemed to bear Our own needs up to heaven ! ‘How reverent in our midst she stood, O knelt in grateful praise | What grace of Christian womanhood Was in her household ways 1 ‘For still her holy living meant No duty left undone ; “The heavenly snd the Human blent Their kindred loves in one. Andif ber lifo small lelsure fomnd For fossting ear and eye, And plessure, on her daily round, Bhe passed unpansing by, Yot writh her went » sacred senso Of all things sweet and fair, And besutys grestect providence Befreshed her una ware. Bhe kept her line of rectitude With love's unconsclous ease ; Her kindly instincts understood All conrtesios, An fnborn charm of graciousness - Made sweet her amile and tone, And glorified her farm-wife dress beauty not its own. The dear Lord's best intarpreters Are humble human sonls The Gospel of a life like hers 1a more than books and scrolls, Tt S i, The blassed Master none can doubt Revealed in holy lives. —Jokn @. Whittier in the Atlantic Monthly. et i s i A Lady-Lecturer’s Experience. Kate Field's * Leaves from & Lecturer’s Note- Book,” are from beginning to end amumng. She begins by taking a carriage, and sitting down, in the dark, upon whrt she supposed was a seat, but which proved itself, by howls blended with attempts at asssultiand battery, to be a boy. .In this carrisge she ‘is driven to a hotel, where & young lady in greemusilk sad red ribbons, and a pink young man, with bis bair parted in the middle, aro singing ‘Days of Absence” together in the parlor; and in the guest’s own .room, -the Iandlord’s dsughter sits and kiuits, lice snother Madamo Defarge, as sho watches the supper and toilet of the young lady lecturer. In the cars, next morn- ing, » friend who ook ca7c of her altaded to her lacture of the oyening befors, and & severa woman, in spectacles, inguired in_stentorian tones, ** Bo you a lecturer 2" K. P, was silent— but the catechism proceeded. . C o ] nay, be you a lecturer?” again demanded tho awful parson. * That's twice I've asked yoo the same question.” Dumb with amazement, wondering where that “womanly tact” was nbout which we hear sc much and see so littlo, I bowed & **Yea ' that would have done no discredit to the Commenda~ tore in'‘ Don Giovanni.” “Well, why didn't you say 8o in the first place ? Might I énquire your name 2" Give my name? Noj; I would have gome **a Marths to the stakos” first. How overy neigh- boring ear elongated and grow into an interro- gation mark! Even the cars as they sped along scemed to_echo, *“ What's your name ? what's your namo ? what's your namo 2" “Might I inquire Your name ? " “No, madam, you may not.” “\Vell, that beats all.” I didn't mean no harm_ I thought you might write for the Rerolution. What's your opinion abont matters and things in general ?” Good Americans who read Dickens’ “Ameri- can Notes " and ** Martin Chuzzlewit,” virtuons- ly brand immortal Doz as—as—well,” 38 a liar. ather was he tho lyre pleyed upon, makiog such music as the players invoked. Here before mo sat one of Dickens' characters, drawn to the . Matters and things in_general! What was I to say? Where should I begin? With ths creationof the world? *Madam,” I as last ‘answored in an undertone, looking like a rock, ea disembodied gooseberry, “I ons.” ns!® exclaimed the awful persom with severity in her oyo and contempt aharply playing sbont ths cornera of ber mouth. ‘It {ou'v; Do opinions, how un airth can you lec- ure 2 Had I boen a worm, the awful person would hava croshed me beneath hor foor. Béing nothing more than human, she turned her back upon me as a creaturg lost to sll sense of her mission on earth. THOMAS CARLYLE. An Interview with the Auntkor of ¢ Sartor Resartus.?” From the Golden Age. Tho strongest litorary enthusiasm of my teens. +was for Tennyson's poetry; next tohim in my mind, but prozimi longo infercallo, were Emer- sonand Carlyle. Of Carlyle’'s works “ Sartor ‘Resartus” was the one which impressod me most. The ragged impetuoaity of the style carried me along asif upon o torrent, and its portrayal of the wrestlng of s human soul with tho grand fatal issues was extremely fascinating to me. Bo it naturally happened that when, ecmewhat Iater, I found mysel? in London, one of my moat ardent wishes was to meet the author. Thie was in 1862, when spring was opening into sum- mer, and the city swarmed with forcigners who had come to attend tho expositior. A young maa falls occasionally into & sentimer:t- 2l trame of mind, narrowly bordering upon mel- ancholy, when solitude opprasses him, and he experiences the need of companionship and guidance. Very often he seeks these in zre- mote quarter, discarding ibe sympathics which are freely afforded him nearer home. Thus it was st that time with mo; and the strange idea took possession of me of attempting to obtain an interview with the author of Bartor Be- gartus,” in order to consult him with roference to_ my future plans. I accordingly wrote him » gushing note, of which, recalling it now, I fcel sshamed, but which bronght s prompt reply, fix- ing an evening to go to his house. The reply was brief and characteristic. 1 kapt it for some time, and lost it at last: but I re- member Afr. Carlyle's writing that it would be cruel in him to refuse my modast requeat, and that, if I would come on the following Thursday evoning, T could have **a half hour of” him. This expressive use of the preposition struck me 25 highly peculiar, and Las remained tenaciously in mymemory. It was em{niu the week when tho response reached me, which document (the handwriting being indistinct) 1 misread, taking Thursdsy for Mondsy. Wonderng that he slonld desire me to wait until the next wook, I neverthaless quietly submitted, as a matier of Course, and, on_the following hionday, wes punctual. The time fived was, I think, half- ast 7. 3 PA3Iy expectations of the suthor’s mode of liv- ing were, it scems, formod on too worldly a basis. The part of the town inhabited by him was disagreeablo, and bis bouse meso, external- 1y and internally, Jusc -before I attained the Joor. I had reread - the invitation and finally de- cipherod it aright ; so that, aa1rung, Iwas a roy to_some. indecision. A maid opened the oor and told mo that Mr. Carlyle was not st home. At this moment he armived, looking rather shabby, but behaving frankly and cor- dially. He sid hebad- expected me on the Thursdsy preceding, sod had nearly con- cluded that his mote had gone sstray, _» not unprecedented ' ocomrrence _ with him, owing to the indistincluess of his writing. A door from the entry led directly inio a front room-containing bookshelves fillsd with books, He asked moin and introduced me to Mra. Carlyle. . Tea nnd toast wers ready on a table in the middle of the room. Without cer- emony ho ssked me totake s seat, and then ‘himself sat down oppoei¢e me, his wife, with the foatray before her, being st my leff and his right. 3 3 arisle inquired what gazt of the DitedStates Iwes from, sad_showed astonishingly intimate scquaintante with our colonial and revolution: ary history, knowing the military events of small sections. Ho spoke with the broadest Scotch accent I had ever heard, and, for a little while, it was difficnlt for me to_undorstand him. Thad toliaten with all my ears. He began to speak of our war then going on, and professed no sym- pathy either with the North or.South. He con- midered that the slavery of the South and the relation of the laborer tahiaemgiouri North were both false relations bav- - e and man. *Ihsve opinionsor‘® --¥een I nan. 0 Opintons O " ses mubjects, ho eaid, with conceited b7/, 4 anner, * which L frotatly 88 7.1y cian in England tohold." Hebadno . eent in- or for the American wer, " to wish that we wonld leave off catting each other's throsts. Ho expressed grest sd: miration for ths shads of Benjamin Franiln, who, when he was in London, knew well how much more nutricious tread was than beer, end who has drawn the lightning from the clonds. But his remarks concarning America were, in the main, offensive. * All nations in histary ur o America,” ho said, have been govarng? by wise men.” Here he abruptly ceased. Wishing to draw him out farther, I suggeatad, “ But Mr. Lincoln does vary well until the wise men can be found.” _““Mr. Lincoln does as well as he can,” hs con~ tinued ; “but that is not much. Hitherto, when the fools have got the upper hand, the pooples have risen in their mij f.z, overthrown them, and put the wise men in their place.” “ A wise men drinks his tes,” interposed Mrs. Cnlyle’ ““before it geta cold.” Carlyle smiled & grim emile, sipped his tea, andiamtea e asolione s Tonbsat ' el ere doesn’s stop talking ; for poor Mr. H. over understand onc word of what I am saying.” “Aftormard (for T had tamely swallowed the in- suit with the ten, and still remained) ws sat in the sameroom, »nd T. C. luxuri: in the re- cital of his manner in snubbing various young men who had mirtakenly sought his fatherly ad~ vice. Heput on » long, hideons woolen dreesing- gown,—a regular Gérman Bohlifrogk,—took = long pi ed with tobacco, lighted it, and re- quested mo to_ follow him for _some conversstion, ‘“I fear you are busy." “1 am busy; but, e 1 told you ou might come, I will speak with you.” This was blufly brought out, but did not affect me unplessantly, as a fore- }:mg remark had done. It merely seeg>d re- eshiingly frank, and a not objectionable cuangs from the gocial platitudes. So I followed me intoa little, dank blck—ylrda where he placed two chairs, and &moked an: harangued for s long time. Undenisbly. ha had an exceptional power in oral speech, and I eat the while as it were under & spoll. He did Dot wish any interruption. Whenever I timidiy volunteered an annotation on his verbal cata~ ract, he almost fiercely recaptured the right of way, He spoke of Emerson in high terms, but singled out Frauklin ss the greatest man Amor- ica had produced. 3 - “America,” he gaid, ‘‘is not #o respectabls a5 when it belonged to England, and even Eng- 1and is not as respectable as she used to be.” ‘When we arose to re-enter the house, he said : “Letme give 7ou a bt of otymalogy for fare- well. Konig, king, is from konnen, to be able. He ia the true king of men who can do the most.” " It soems strange tome that, st this mo- ment, I fail to recall more of his actual words. Tho Goneral impression murvives far more VILYs > Tt was “one of great power. .In_spite of hin becishnos, T would have béen glad (o go to sex him sgain, had-he, "at parting, given me tha slightest encouragement. Mra. Carlyle, mo longer in the land of the living; was of amall . - Her"voice was soft and her accenk cleaz, delicate, and puzaly- English, falling on Iy ear in agreesble contrast to his Caledoniaa harshness. - © .- " Buma G. Hosuzzs. ‘BrooxLry, Juae 9, 1873,