All the while his premonition of the approach of doom grew more darkly oppressive.  The trail of the artist is discernible across his thoughts.  In his troubled imagination he identified his own situation with that of the protagonist in tragedies on the theme of fate.  He did not withhold his thoughts from the supreme instance.  That same friend who found him possessed of gloom preserved these words of his:  “I have read on my knees the story of Gethsemane, when the Son of God prayed in vain that the cup of bitterness might pass from him.  I am in the Garden of Gethsemane now and my cup of bitterness is full and overflowing now."(11)

     “Like some strong seer in a trance,
     Seeing all his own mischance,
     With a glassy countenance,”

he faced toward Washington, toward the glorious terror promised him by his superstitions.

The last days before the departure were days of mingled gloom, desperation, and the attempt to recover hope.  He visited his old stepmother and made a pilgrimage to his father’s grave.  His thoughts fondly renewed the details of his past life, lingered upon this and that, as if fearful that it was all slipping away from him forever.  And then he roused himself as if in sudden revolt against the Fates.  The day before he left Springfield forever Lincoln met his partner for the last time at their law office to wind up the last of their unsettled business.  “After those things were all disposed of,” says Herndon, “he crossed to the opposite side of the room and threw himself down on the old office sofa. . . .  He lay there for some moments his face to the ceiling without either of us speaking.  Presently, he inquired:  ’Billy’—­he always called me by that name—­’how long have we been together?’ ‘Over sixteen years,’ I answered.  ’We’ve never had a cross word during all that time, have we?’ . . .  He gathered a bundle of papers and books he wished to take with him and started to go, but before leaving, he made the strange request that the sign board which swung on its rusty hinges at the foot of the stairway would remain.  ’Let it hang there undisturbed,’ he said, with a significant lowering of the voice.  ’Give our clients to understand that the election of a President makes no change in the firm of Lincoln & Herndon.  If I live, I am coming back some time, and then we’ll go right on practising law as if nothing had happened.’  He lingered for a moment as if to take a last look at the old quarters, and then passed through the door into the narrow hallway."(12)

On a dreary day with a cold rain falling, he set forth.  The railway station was packed with friends.  He made his way through the crowd slowly, shaking hands.  “Having finally reached the train, he ascended the rear platform, and, facing about to the throng which had closed about him, drew himself up to his full height, removed his hat and stood for several seconds in profound silence.  His eyes roved sadly over that sea of upturned faces. . .