VOLUME 2. Funeral Address Delirere.l by Bish op Simpson at Springfield. Fellow-citizeim of Illinois, antl of our entire Union: Near the capital of this large and growing Stateof Illinois, in the midst of this beautiful grove, and at the open mouth of the vault which has just received the remains of our fallen Chief tain, we gather to pay a tribute of respect and drop the tears of sorrow around the ashes of the mighty dead. A little more | than four years ago, from his plain and .quiet home in yonder city, he started, re ceiving the parting words of the concourse of friends who gathered around him, and in the midst of the dropping of the gen tle shower he told of the pains of parting from the place where his children had been born and his home had been made so pleasant by early recollections. And as he left he made an earnest request in the hearing of some who are present that, as he was about to enter upon responsibili ties which lie believed to oe greater than any which had fallen upon any man since the days of Washington, the people would offer up their prayers that God would aid and sustain him in the work they had gi ~ en him to do. His company left youi quiet city ; but, as it went, snares were in waiting for the Chief Magistrate. Scarce ly did he escape the dangers of the way, or the hands of the assassin, as he near od Washington, and I believe he escaped only through the vigilance of the officers and prayers of the people; so that the blow was suspeneod for more than four years which was at last permitted through the providence of God to tall. How dif ferent the occasion which witnessed his return! Doubtless, you expected to take liim by the hands, to feel the warm grasp which you felt in other days, and to see the tall form walking among you, which you had delighted to honor in years past. Rut he was never permitted to return un til he came with lips mute and silent, his frame encoffined, and a weeping nation following as his mourners. Such a scene as bis return to you was witnessed among the events of history There have been great processions of mourncts. There was one for the patriarch .Jacob, which cauie up from Egypt, and the Egyp tians wondered at, the evidences of rev erence aud filial affection which came from the hearts of the Israelites. There was mourning when Moses fell upon the hights of Pisgah and was hid from hu man view. There have been mournings in the kingdoms of the earth when kings and warriors have fallen ; but never was there, in the history of man, such mourn ing as that which has accompanied the funeral procession and has gathered around the mortal remains of him who was our loved one and who now sleeps among us. If we glance at tne procession which fol lowed him we see how the nation stood n"hast. Tears filled the eyes of many suuburnt faces. Strong men, as they clasped the hands of their friends were unable to find vent for their grief in words. Women and little children caught up the tidings as they ran through the land, and were melted into tears. The nation stood still. Men left their plows in the fields and asked what the end would be. The hum of manufactories ceased, and the sound of the Trammer was not heard.— Busy merchants closed their doors, and in the Exchange gold passed uo more from hand. Three weeks have passed. The nation has scarcely breathed easily yet. A mournful silence is abroad upon tho land. Nor is this mourning confined to any class or to any district of the coun try. Men of all political parties and of all religious creeds seem united in paying this mournful tribute. The Archbishop of the Roman Catholic Church in New York and a Protestant minister walked side by side in the said procession, and a Jewish Rabbi performed a par* of the sol emn service. There are gathered around his tomb, representatives of the Aruiy and Navy, Senators, Judges, Go'-ernors, and officers of all the braucnes of the Government and members of all the civic associations, with men and women, from the humblest as well as the highest occu Rations. Here and there, too, are tears as sincere and warm as any that drop which come from the eyes of those whose kin dred and whose race have been freed from their chains by him whom they mourn as their deliverer Far more have gazed on the face of the departed than ever looked upon the face of any other departed man. More eyes have looked ujion the proces sion for 1,600 miles, or more by night and by day, by sunlight, dawn, twilight and by torchlight, than ever before wutch ed the progress of a processiou. We ask why thisjyftpdcrful mouruing; this great procession. I answer: First, a part of the interest has arisen# from the times in which wc live, and in which he had fal len was a principal actor. It is a princi ple of our nature that feelings once cx AMERICAN CITIZEN. eluded from the object by which they are excited, turn readily to some other object winch may, for the time being, take pos session of the mitld. Another princi ple is that the deepest affections of our hearts gather around some human form in which are incarnated the loving thoughts and ideas of the passing age. If we look then at the times, we see an age of ex citement. For four years the popular heart has been stirred to its utmost depths. War had come upon us, dividing fami lies ; separating nearestand dearesl friends —a war the extent and magnitude of which no one could estimate—a war in which the blood of brethren was shed by a brother's hand. A call for soldiers was made by this voice, now hushed, and all over this land, from hill to mountain, from plain to valley, they sprang up, hundreds of thousands of bold hearts, ready togo forth and save our National Union. This feeling of excitement was transformed next into a feeling of deep grief because of the dangers in which onr country was placed. Many said : Is it possible to save our nation ? Koine in our country, and nearly all the leading men in other countries, declared it to be impossible to maintain the Union; and many au hon est heart was deeply pained with appre hensions of common ruin, and many in grief and almost in despair anxiously in quired : What shall the end of these things be? In addition, the wives had given their husbands, mothers their sons. In the pride and joy of their hearts they saw them put on the uniform, they saw them tike their martial step, and they tried to hide their deep feelings I>f sad ness. Many dear ones slept on the bat tle field, never, never to return again, and there was mourning in every mansion and in every cnbin in our broad land. Then came a feeling to deepen sadness as the story came of prisoners tortured to death or starved through the mandates of those who arc ealled the representatives of the chivalry, or who claim toe the honora ble ones of the earth ; and as we read the stories of frames attenuated, our grief turned partly into horror and partly into a cry for vengeance. m Then the feeling was changed to one of joy. There came signs of the end of this Rebellion. We followed the career of our glorious, gen erals. We saw our army under the com mand of the brave officer who is guiding this procession, climbed up the hights of Lookout Mountain and drove the ltebcls from their strongholds. Another b.-ave General swept through Georgia, South and North Carolina and drove the com bined armies of the Rebels before him, while the honored Lieutenant General held Lee and his hosts in a death grasp. Then the tidings came that Richmond was evacuated and that Lee had surren dered. The bells rang merily all over the land. The booming of cannon was heard. Illuminations and torch-light pro cessions manifested the general joy, and families were looking for the speedy re turn of their loved ones from the field of battle. Just in the midst of the wildest joy, in one hour—nay, in one moment— the tidings rang throughout the land that Abraham Lincoln, the best of l'resid nts, had perished by the hands of an assassin. And then all that feeliifg which had been gathering for our years in forms of ex citement, grief, honor and joy, turned in to one wail of woe—a sadness inexpressi ble, anguish unutterable. Rut it is not the time, merely, which caused this mourn ing ; the mode of his death must be ta ken into account. Ilad he died on a bed of illness with kind friends around him ; had the sweat of death been wiped from his brow by gentle hands while he was yet conscious; could ht have had the pow er to speak words of affection to his strick en, widow, words of counsel to us like those which we heard in his pal ting 'or Washington in his Inaugural which shall now be immortal; how it would havesuft ened or assuaged something of the grief! There might at least have been prepara tion for the event. But no moment of warning was given to him or us. lie was stricken dowi when his hopes for thceud of the Rebellion were bright and the prospects of a joyous life were before him. There was a Cabinet meeting that day, said to have been the most cheerful aud happy of any held since the beginning of the Rebellion. After this me«ting he talked with his friends, and spoke of the four years of tempest, of the storm being over, aud of the four years of pleasure and joy awaitiug him ; a» the weight of care and anguish would be taken from his mind, and he could have happy days with his family again. In the luulet of these anticipations, he left his house never to return alive. The evening was Good Friday, the saddest day in the wljole cal eudar for the Christian Church —hence- forth in this country to be made sadder, | if possible, by the memory of our nation's I loss. Aud so filled with grief was every " Let us have Faith that Right makes Might; and in that Faith let us, to the end,dare to do our .My as we understand it"--*- LINCOLN BUTLER, BUTLER COUNTY, PA., WEDNESDAY, MAY 17, 1865. Christian's heart that even all the joyous thought of Easter Sunday failed to re move the crushing sorrow under which the truo worshipper bowed in the House of God. Rut the great cause of this mourning is to be fouud in the man him self. Mr. Lincoln was no ordinary man and I believe the conviction has growing on the nation's mind, as it cer tainly has been on my own, especially in the last years of his administration. Ry the hand of God, he was especially sin gled out to guide ourGovermnen in these troublous times, and it seems to me that the hand of God may be traced in many of the events connected with his history. First, then, 1 recognize this in the phys ical education which he received, and which prepared him for enduring hercu lean labors in the trials of his boyhood and the labors of his manhood. God was giving him an iron form. Next to this was his identification with the heart of the great people—understanding their feelings because be was one of them and connected with them in their movements and life, liis education was simple; a few months spent in the school-house gave him the elements of education. He read few books, but mastered all he read.— " Runyan's Progress" aud th) " Life of Washington" were his favorites. Iu these we recognize the works which gave the bias to his character, and which part ly molded his style. His early life, with its varied struggles, joined him indissolu bly to tho weeping masses, and no eleva tion in society diminished his respect for the sons of toil. He knew what it was to fell the tall trees of the forest, and to stem the current of the hard Mississippi. His home was in the growing West, the heart of the Republic, and, invigorated by the wind which swept over its groves he learned the lesson of self-reliance which sustained him in seasons of adver sity. His genius was soon recognized as true genius always will be. He was pla cid in the legislature of a State. Already acquainted with the principles of law, he devoted bis thought to mat ters of public interest, and began to be looked on as the coming statesman. As early as 184!) ho presented resolutions in the Legislature asking for emancipation in the District of Columbia, although, with rare exceptions, the whole popular mind of bis State was opposed to the measure. From that hour he was a steady and uniform friend of humanity, and was pre paring for the conflict of latter years. If you ask on what mental characteristic his greatness rested, I answer on a quick aud ready perception of facts, and a memory unusually tenacious and retentive, and on a logical turn of mind which followed sterlingly and unwavcrlingly every link in the chain of thought on any subject which he was called onto investigate. I think there have been minds more decided in their character, more compre hensive in their scope, but I doubt if there has been a man which could follow, step by step, with logical power, the points which he desired to illustrate, lie gain ed the power by a close study of geome try and by a determination to persevere iu the truth. It is said of him that in childhood, when he had any difficulty in listening to a conversation to ascertain what people meant, if he retired to rest he could not slee, till he tried to under stand the precise points intended, and when understood to convey it in a clear n ann r to those who had listeued with him. Who that has read his message fails to perceive the directness and the simplicity of his style, and this very trait which was scoffed at and derided by his opposers is now recognized as one of the strong points of that mighty mind which has so power fully influenced the destiny of this nation, and which shall for ages to come influ ence the destiny of humanity. It is not, however, chiefly by his mental faculties that he gained such control over mankind. His moral power gave him prominence. The convictions of men that • Abraham Lincoln was an honest man led them to yield to his guidance. As has been said of Cobden, whom he greatly respected, he made all men feel and own the scuse of himself, and recog nise in him individuality, a self-relying power. They saw in him a man whom they believed would do that which was right, regardless of all consequences. It was this moral feeling which gave him the greatest hold on the people, aud made bis utterances almost oracular. When the nation was angered by the perfidy of foreigu powers, iu allowing privateers to be fitted out, he uttered the significant expression, " One war at a time," and it stilled the natioual heart. When his own friends were divided as to what ttcj« should be takeu as to slavery, that simple utterance, " 1 will save the Union if I c#u with Sl»vei.ue: "I never shall-live out the four year.- of my teriu. When the I'ebelliou is c u bed my work is done ' So a was ! • AJo URYA to MOO THE last buttle fought UNU to dictate ft dispatch from the homo of Jefferson Davis—.lived till the power of the Rebellion was broken, and then, hav ing done the work for which God had sent him, angels, I trust, were sent to shield him from one moment of pain or suffering, and to bear him from this world to that high and glorious realm where the patriot and the good shall live forever. llis example teaches young men that every position ef emineuce is open before the diligent and the worthy, to the active men of the couutry. His example urges the country to tniy all means." He always became excited in propor tion to tl r aggravations ofhisclients. "You can recover heavy damages, sir, and the law will make him pay well f'ir it, Just give me the case, and I'll bring the money from him ; and if he hasn't a great deal of prop erty, it will break him up, sir." "Bet stop, Barnes," cried the ter- * rifled applicant for legal advice, "it's, neighbor Jones that owns the spring and he '.hreatens to sue me," The keen lawyer hesitated a mo ment before ho tacked his ship and kept on. "Ah ! well, you say that you built a dam across that creek. What sort of a datn was that sir ?" "It was a mill dam." "A mill datr. for grinding grain, was it ?" "Yes, it was just that." "And it is a good neighborhood mil', is it ?" "So it i3 sir, and you may well say so." "And all the neighbors bring theip grain to be ground, do they?" "Yes sir, all but Jones," "Then it js a great public convex nrnce, is it not." "T be sure it is. I would not have built it but fgr that. It is fop superior to any other mill, sir-" "4nd now," said tho lawyer, you tell me that that man Jones is cora plainingjust because the water from the darti happens to put back Into his litt'e spring, and he is threaten ing to sue you. Well, all I have to say is to fet him sue, and hd'll rue the day, as sure as my name is Barnes." —The Tennessee Legislature has elect ed Hon. H. J. Patterson and Hon. S. J. Fowler, U. S. Senators, tho former fo? four years am! the latter for six It now only remains for Tennessee to elect Con gressmen to eniitle her to fall recognition as a b'tate in the UnWn.