imaginative, he united rare dialectic power.  He felt the truth before he expounded it; but when once it was felt by him, then his logical power came into remarkably effective play.  Step by step he led his hearers onward, till at last he placed them on the summit whence they could see all the landscape of his subject in harmonious and connected order.  Of these two contrasted pictures of Lincoln, it is only the last which shows him as he was in his real and essential greatness.  And not this fully; for it was in his character that he was greatest.  He was not merely a thinker, but a thinker for man, directing his thought to the ends of justice, freedom, and humanity.  If he desired and sought high position, it was only that he might thus better serve the cause of freedom to which he was devoted.  From the time when he withdrew, in a spirit of magnanimity that was never appreciated, in favor of a rival candidate for the United States Senate, it was evident that the cause was more to him than any personal advantage or advancement.”

Another graphic description of Lincoln’s appearance and manner on the stump is given by Mr. Jeriah Bonham, whose account of the famous “house-divided-against-itself” speech has already found a place in this narrative.  “When Mr. Lincoln took the stand,” says Mr. Bonham, “he did not, on rising, show his full height, but stood in a stooping posture, his long-tailed coat hanging loosely around his body, and descending over an ill-fitting pair of pantaloons that covered his not very symmetrical legs.  He began his speech in a rather diffident manner, seeming for awhile at a loss for words; his voice was irregular, even a little tremulous, as he began his argument.  As he proceeded he seemed to gain more confidence, his form straightened up, his face brightened, his language became free and animated.  Soon he had drawn the attention of the crowd by two or three well-told stories that illustrated his argument; and then he became eloquent, carrying his audience at will, as tumultuous applause greeted every telling point he made.”

Mrs. John A. Logan, in her “Recollections of a Soldier’s Wife,” says:  “I always like to think of Mr. Lincoln as he was when I saw him with the eyes of an opponent.  His awkwardness has not been exaggerated, but it gave no effect of self-consciousness.  There was something about his ungainliness and his homely face which would have made anyone who simply passed him in the street remember him.  His very awkwardness was an asset in public life, in that it attracted attention to him.  Douglas, on the other hand, won by the magnetism of his personality.  Lincoln did not seem to have any magnetism, though of course he actually did have the rarest and most precious kind.  Give Mr. Lincoln five minutes and Mr. Douglas five minutes before an audience which knew neither, and Mr. Douglas would make the greater impression.  But give them each an hour, and the contrary would be true.”