Hon. William J. Bryan, certainly a competent judge of oratory, says of Lincoln as an orator:  “Brevity is the soul of wit, and a part of Lincoln’s reputation for wit lies in his ability to condense a great deal into a few words.  He was epigrammatic.  His Gettysburg speech is the world’s model in eloquence, elegance, and condensation.  He was apt in illustration—­no one more so.  A simple story or simile drawn from every-day life flashed before his hearers the argument that he wanted to present.  He made frequent use of Bible language, and of illustrations drawn from Holy Writ.  It is said that when he was preparing his Springfield speech of 1858 he spent hours in trying to find language that would express the central idea—­that a republic could not permanently endure part free and part slave.  Finally a Bible passage flashed through his mind, and he exclaimed, ’I have found it—­a house divided against itself cannot stand.’  Probably no other Bible passage ever exerted as much influence as this one in the settlement of a great controversy.”

Lincoln was a tireless worker, and delegated no duties to others which he could perform himself.  His health seemed to bear the strain of his terrible burdens wonderfully well.  There are but few references anywhere to his being incapacitated by illness.  One such reference occurs in Welles’s Diary, dated March 14, 1865:  “The President was somewhat indisposed, but not seriously ill.  The members [of the Cabinet] met in his bedroom.”  His correspondence was extensive and burdensome, and as a rule he wrote his most important letters with his own hand, frequently going to the trouble of taking copies, which were filed with careful order in a cabinet, the interior of which was divided into pigeon-holes.  These pigeon-holes, as Mr. Brooks tells us, “were lettered in alphabetical order, but a few were devoted to individuals.  Horace Greeley had a pigeon-hole by himself; so did each of several generals who wrote often to him.  One compartment, labelled ‘W. & W.,’ excited much curiosity, but I never asked what it meant, and one night, being sent to the cabinet for a letter which the President wanted, he said, ’I see you looking at my “W. & W.”  Can you guess what that stands for?’ Of course it was useless to guess.  ‘Well,’ said he, with a roguish twinkle of the eye, ‘that’s Weed and Wood—­Thurlow and Fernandy.’  Then he added, with an indescribable chuckle, ’That’s a pair of ’em.’  When asked why he did not have a letter-book and copying-press, he said, ’A letter-book might be easily stolen and carried off, but that stock of filed letters would be a back-load.’”