our brave defenders, so freely offered and so profusely spilt, has not been shed in vain. We turn, too, to-day, with a prouder joy than ever before to that banner, brilliant with stars from the heavens and radiant with glories from the earth, which from Bunker Hill to Yorktown, from Lundy's Lane to New Orleans, and from the darker hours of the rebellion in the past, to Savannah, and Fort Sumter, and Charleston, and Columbia, and Fort Fisher, and Wilmington in the present, has ever symbolized our unity and our national life, as we see inscribed on it ineffaceably that now doubly noble inscription, 'Liberty and Union, now and forever, one and inseparable.'

"But, in this hour of gladness I cannot forget the obligations, paramount and undying, we owe to our heroic defenders on every battle-field upon the land, and every wave-rocked monitor and frigate upon the sea. Inspired by the sublimest spirit of self-sacrifice they have realized a million-fold the historic fable of Curtius, as they have offered to close up, with their own bodies, if need be, the yawning chasm that imperilled the Republic. For you and me, and for their country, they have turned their backs on the delights of home and severed the tenderest of ties to brave death in a thousand forms; to confront with unblanched cheek the tempest of shot, and shell, and flame; to storm frowning batteries and bristling intrenchments; to suffer, and to die. As we look from this Capitol Hill over the nation there are crushed and broken hearts in every hamlet; there are wounded soldiers, mangled with rebel bullets, in every hospital; there are patriot

graves in every church-yard; there are bleaching bones on every battle-field. It is the lofty and unfaltering heroism of the honored living, and the even more honored dead, that has taken us from every valley of disaster and defeat and placed our feet on the sun-crowned heights of victory. The granite shaft may commemorate their deeds. Our American Valhalla may be crowded with the statues of our heroes. But our debt of gratitude to them can never be paid while time shall last and the history of a rescued nation shall endure.

"If my voice, from this Representative Hall, could be heard throughout the land, I would adjure all who love the Republic to preserve this obligation ever fresh in grateful hearts. The dead, who have fallen in these struggles to prevent an alien flag from waving over the ashes of Washington, or over the graves where sleep the great and patriotic rivals of the last generation, the hero of New Orleans and the illustrious commoner of Kentucky, cannot return to us. On Shiloh's plain and Carolina's sandy shores, before Richmond, and above the clouds at Lookout Mountain, the patriot martyrs of constitutional liberty sleep in their bloody shrouds till the morning of resurrection. But the living are left behind. And if the Sacred Record appropriately commends the poor, who are ever with us, to our benefactions and regard, may I not remind you that the widow and fatherless, the maimed and the wounded, the diseased and the suffering, whose anguish springs from this great contest, have claims on all of us, heightened immeasurably by the sacred cause for which they have given so much? Thus, and thus alone, by pouring the

oil of consolation into the wounds that wicked treason has made, can we prove our devotion to our fatherland and our affectionate gratitude toward its defenders.

"And, rejoicing over the bow of promise we already see arching the storm-cloud of war, giving assurance that no deluge of secession shall again overwhelm our nation, we can join, with heart and soul, sincerely and trustingly, in the poet's prayer:

'Now, Father, lay thy healing hand
In mercy on our stricken land;
Lead all its wanderers to the fold,
And be their Shepherd, as of old.

'So shall our nation's song ascend

To thee, our Ruler, Father, Friend;
While heaven's wide arch resounds again
With "Peace on earth, good will to men.'"

"We go hence, with our official labors ended, to the Senate Chamber and the portico of the Capitol, there, with the statue of the goddess of Liberty looking down for the first time from her lofty pedestal on such a scene, to witness and participate in the inauguration of the Elect of the American people.

"And now, thanking you most truly for the approbation of my official conduct which you have recorded on your Journals, I declare the House of Representatives of the Thirty-Eighth Congress of the United States adjourned sine die."

CHAPTER VIII.

Close of the War-Mr. Colfax prepares for his "Overland Journey "— Parting with President Lincoln-Murder of the President-The removal of Mr. Lincoln's Remains to Illinois-Mr. Colfax pronounces a Eulogy at Chicago, upon the "Life and Principles of Abraham Lincoln "-His Motives in undertaking the Journey to the Pacific-The Rendezvous at Atchison, Kansas-Mr. Colfax's Companions-The Journey begun-The Ride across the Prairie-Arrival at Fort Kearney The Plains-Emigrant Trains-The Route-Communication with the East-Mr. Colfax meets old Friends-Breakfast at Julesburg-Reception at Denver-Speech of Mr. Colfax-Mr. Lincoln's Message to the Miners-Visits to the Mines-The 1st of June in DenverGrand Banquet-En route again-The Ride over the Mountains-Indian Depredations-The Church Butte-View from the Hills-Camp Douglas-Arrival and Reception at Salt Lake City-Speech of Mr. Colfax-Honors to the Speaker-Visit of Brigham Young to Mr. Colfax-Matters at Salt Lake City-The Theatre-The TabernacleSecond Interview with Brigham Young-The Wells, Fargo & Co. Stages-Departure from Salt Lake City-Arrival at Virginia CityReception-Speech of Mr. Colfax-The Ride over the Sierras-Lake Tahoe-A model Stage Road-The Railroad to Sacramento-The Steamboat-Arrival at San Francisco.

CONGRESS adjourned, as we have said, on the 4th of March. A month later the genius of Grant and the valor of our armies had brought the Rebellion to the dust, and won back the long defiant strongholds of Richmond and Petersburg to the authority of the Union, and the great struggle was rapidly closing. By the tenth of April it was certain that the oft-repeated prediction of "peace in ninety days" would be fulfilled in a third of that time, and rejoicings were loud in all parts of the land.

Mr. Colfax remained in Washington until the middle of April, to arrange certain matters relating to a journey through the States and Territories of the West, which he had determined to make during the recess of Congress. On the 14th of April, he called on President Lincoln to bid him farewell, and to receive from him such messages as he desired to send to the people of the Great West. The interview was long and cordial. It was the pleasantest and most cheerful Mr. Colfax had enjoyed with the President for a long time, for Mr. Lincoln, satisfied that the Union was finally saved, and full of the most generous intentions towards the people of the South, was free from the load of care and anxiety which had seemed to weigh him down during the war. He bade his friend farewell with a happier heart than he had borne for years—a happiness which was but the foretaste of that brighter and more glorious joy upon which he was to enter so soon.

Still unwilling to depart without another farewell, Mr. Colfax called on the President again that evening, and left him only half an hour before he started on that fatal visit to Ford's Theatre. The President urged him to accompany the party to the theatre, but he declined to do so, as he expected to leave Washington early the next morning, and had still some business to attend to during the night. The President was in the highest spirits. As he parted from Mr. Colfax at the door of the White House, he turned to him, and, as if by a sudden inspiration, said: "Don't forget, Colfax, to tell those miners that that is my speech to them*- a

* The reader will find Mr. Lincoln's message to the miners in Mr. Colfax's speech at Denver City, Colorado, farther on in this chapter.