“ ‘Who’s dead, Aunty?’ I asked her.

“ ‘Massa Sam,’ she said, not looking at me, renewing her lamentations. ‘O Lord! O Lord! O Lord! Massa Sam’s dead!’

“ ‘Who is Massa Sam? I asked again.

“ ‘Uncle Sam,’ she said. ‘O Lord! Lord! Lord!’ she continued.

“I was not quite sure that she meant the President, and I spoke again:—

“ ‘Who’s Massa Sam, Aunty?’

“ ‘Mr. Lincum!’ she said, and resumed wringing her hands and moaning in utter hopelessness of sorrow. The poor creature was too ignorant to comprehend any difference between the very unreal Uncle Sam and the actual President; but her heart told her that he whom Heaven had sent in answer to her prayers was lying in a bloody grave, and she and her race were left—fatherless.”

A friend of the writer was in a city of North Carolina when the news of the assassination reached the coloured people there. In their profound grief they followed their leader to their humble place of worship, filling it to overflowing. Our friend went thither, and found the whole congregation upon their knees, giving vent to their feelings in convulsive sobs and piteous moans. Even their patriarchal leader was too full for utterance; and, on his knees, he was crying with his afflicted people. At length, an old woman, bowed with age and trembling with emotion, rose to express her grief in words. Clasping her dusky hands together, and lifting her streaming eyes heavenward, she exclaimed:—

“Bress de Lord; bress de Lord! Dey hab killed Massa Linkum, but dey can’t kill God!”

“Amen!” “Amen!” “Amen!” was the response from every part of the house, showing, not only the greatness of their bereavement, but, also, their gladness that God was left. From that moment their tongues were loosed, and they found relief in the inspiring thought, “They can’t kill God.”

The Atlantic cable flashed the terrible news across the sea, “President Lincoln Assassinated,” startling foreign governments, and eliciting expressions of profound sympathy.

Queen Victoria instructed Earl Russell to convey her unfeigned sorrow to the government of the United States, and, at the same time, with her own hand, she addressed a letter of touching condolence to Mrs. Lincoln.

The London Spectator declared that all England wept for “the noblest President whom America has had since the time of Washington; certainly the best, if not the ablest, man ruling over any country in the civilized world.”

The Empress Eugenie, wife of Napoleon, the Emperor of France, addressed a letter of true sympathy to Mrs. Lincoln; and the French government seconded the address of the Emperor to the United States, expressing the deepest sorrow over our national bereavement.

The governments of Russia, Italy, Prussia, Belgium, Turkey, Austria, and Switzerland, were equally demonstrative in their expressions of grief and condolence.

The Hon. George Bancroft, the historian, said, “The echoes of his funeral knell vibrate through the world, and the friends of freedom of every tongue and in every clime are the mourners.”

Speaker Colfax said,—