The front page is dominated by President Lincoln's complete Second Inaugural Address, delivered just two days earlier on March 4, 1865. The speech, administered by Chief Justice Chase on the east portico of the Capitol, contains Lincoln's immortal words: 'With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation's wounds.' Lincoln spoke of slavery as an offense that God willed to remove, saying if the war must continue 'until every drop of blood drawn by the lash shall be paid by another drawn by the sword,' then 'the judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether. Also featured are the chaotic final proceedings of the 38th Congress, which worked through the night until 7:15 Saturday morning. Vice President-elect Andrew Johnson gave a rambling, nearly inaudible speech to the Senate (drowned out by 'loud talking of women in the galleries'), awkwardly addressing cabinet members and declaring himself 'a plebeian' who thanked God for it. The House passed bills removing racial barriers from mail carriers and requiring that no citizen be excluded from railroad cars or hotels based on state laws.

This newspaper captures one of the most pivotal moments in American history — Lincoln's final major speech, delivered just 41 days before his assassination and barely a month before Lee's surrender at Appomattox. The Second Inaugural Address would become one of the greatest speeches in American political history, offering a vision of reconciliation and healing for a war-torn nation. Meanwhile, Congress was frantically passing civil rights legislation and dealing with Reconstruction questions, while Andrew Johnson's erratic inaugural speech foreshadowed the turbulent presidency that would follow Lincoln's death. The war was clearly winding down — Lincoln spoke optimistically of arms progress being 'reasonably satisfactory and encouraging' — but the enormous questions of how to rebuild the Union and integrate four million freed slaves were just beginning.

• A bizarre weather event disrupted the House proceedings: 'About half past six o'clock a heavy rain and wind storm broke over the capitol, rattling on the glass and ceiling, and causing a fierce whistling throughout the building' that was so sudden and loud 'it alarmed many of the members of the house, who fled towards the doors.'
• Andrew Johnson had to whisper to someone nearby during his speech to ask 'who is secretary of the navy?' because he couldn't remember Secretary Wells' name while addressing the cabinet.
• The Worcester Daily Spy advertises that it was 'ESTABLISHED JULY, 1770' — meaning this newspaper had been operating since before the Declaration of Independence was signed.
• An ad promotes 'AMERICAN LIFE DROPS—Diptheria SPECIFIC' as a cure, reflecting the era's patent medicine culture and the ongoing threat of diphtheria.
• Someone is selling '20,000 lbs. Ohio, Michigan, Maine, and N. York' wool plus 'California Wools—pure of Fall Clip,' showing the massive scale of textile commerce even during wartime.

• Chief Justice Salmon P. Chase, who administered Lincoln's oath, had desperately wanted to be president himself and would spend the next four years plotting to run against his former boss in 1868.
• Vice President Hannibal Hamlin, who thanked the Senate for their kindness in a speech that 'was not heard owing to the confusion made in the galleries by women talking,' was being replaced by Andrew Johnson as Lincoln's running mate — a decision that would prove catastrophic after Lincoln's assassination.
• The bill passed removing 'all disqualification of color in carrying the mails' was a small but significant civil rights victory — mail carriers were federal employees, making this one of the first integrated government jobs.
• Lincoln's reference to '250 years of unrequited toil' by bondsmen was remarkably precise — the first African slaves had arrived in Virginia in 1619, exactly 246 years earlier.
• The Senate worked so late that by 3 A.M. 'the galleries were deserted, and some of the members were asleep on the sofas' — a scene of exhausted democracy in action.