and was rewarded with many interesting details.  When they were about to part, the minister said:  “Mr. Lincoln, may I say one thing to you before we separate?” “Certainly; anything you please,” was the response.  “You have just spoken,” said Mr. Gulliver, “of the tendency of political life in Washington to debase the moral convictions of our representatives there, by the admixture of considerations of mere political expediency.  You have become, by the controversy with Mr. Douglas, one of our leaders in this great struggle with slavery, which is undoubtedly the struggle of the nation and the age.  What I would like to say is this, and I say it with a full heart:  Be true to your principles, and we will be true to you, and God will be true to us all.”  Mr. Lincoln, touched by the earnestness of his interlocutor, took his hand in both his own, and, with his face full of sympathetic light, exclaimed:  “I say amen to that! amen to that!”

After the New England tour, Lincoln returned to his home in Springfield.  As often happens, those least appreciative of his success were his own neighbors; and certain reflections gained vogue concerning his motives in visiting the East.  It was charged that he had been mercenary; that his political speeches had been paid for.  Something of this sort having been brought to Lincoln’s notice, he disposed of the matter in the following manly and characteristic letter: 

C.F.  McNEILL, ESQ.—­Dear Sir:—­Reaching home yesterday, I found yours of the 23d March, enclosing a slip from the ’Middleport Press.’  It is not true that I ever charged anything for a political speech in my life; but this much is true:  Last October I was requested by letter to deliver some sort of speech in Mr. Beecher’s church in Brooklyn, $200 being offered in the first letter.  I wrote that I could do it in February, provided they would take a political speech if I could find time to get up no other.  They agreed; and subsequently I informed them the speech would have to be a political one.  When I reached New York, I learned for the first time that the place was changed to Cooper Institute.  I made the speech, and left for New England, where I have a son at school, neither asking for pay nor having any offered me.  Three days after, a check for $200 was sent me, and I took it, and did not know it was wrong.  My understanding now is—­though I knew nothing of it at the time—­that they did charge for admittance at the Cooper Institute, and that they took in more than twice $200.  I have made this explanation to you as a friend; but I wish no explanation made to our enemies.  What they want is a squabble and a fuss; and that they can have if we explain; and they cannot have it if we don’t.  When I returned through New York from New England, I was told by the gentleman who sent me the check that a drunken vagabond in the club, having learned something about the $200, made the exhibition out of which the ‘Herald’ manufactured the article quoted by the ‘Press’ of your town.  My judgment is, and therefore my request is, that you give no denial, and no explanations.

     Thanking you for your kind interest in the matter, I remain,