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THE PERFECT TRIBUTE
[Illustration]
THE PERFECT TRIBUTE BY
Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews
1908
THE PERFECT TRIBUTE
On the morning of November 18, 1863, a special train drew out from
Washington, carrying a distinguished company. The presence with them
of the Marine Band from the Navy Yard spoke a public occasion to come,
and among the travellers there were those who might be gathered only
for an occasion of importance. There were judges of the Supreme
Court of the United States; there were heads of departments; the
general-in-chief of the army and his staff; members of the cabinet.
In their midst, as they stood about the car before settling for the
journey, towered a man sad, preoccupied, unassuming; a man awkward and
ill-dressed; a man, as he leaned slouchingly against the wall, of
no grace of look or manner, in whose haggard face seemed to be the
suffering of the sins of the world. Abraham Lincoln, President of the
United States, journeyed with his party to assist at the consecration,
the next day, of the national cemetery at Gettysburg. The quiet
November landscape slipped past the rattling train, and the
President's deep-set eyes stared out at it gravely, a bit listlessly.
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