It meant self-sacrifice, and he could not see that.

If he went he might be shot, and what would his noble emotion amount to then?
He would rather make money, regulate current political, social and financial affairs.

The poor fool who fell in behind the enlisting squad--no, not fool, he would not call him that--the poor overwrought working-man--well, Heaven pity him! Heaven pity all of them! They really did not know what they were doing.
One day he saw Lincoln--a tall, shambling man, long, bony, gawky, but tremendously impressive.

It was a raw, slushy morning of a late February day, and the great war President was just through with his solemn pronunciamento in regard to the bonds that might have been strained but must not be broken.

As he issued from the doorway of Independence Hall, that famous birthplace of liberty, his face was set in a sad, meditative calm.