“I had about given you up, Mr. Brice,” he said.  “Mr. Lincoln asked me to get hold of you, and bring you to him alive or dead.”

Accordingly Stephen was led to the station, where a long train of twelve cars was pulled up, covered with flags and bunting.  On entering one of these, he perceived Mr. Lincoln sprawled (he could think of no other word to fit the attitude) on a seat next the window, and next him was Mr. Medill of the Press and Tribune.  The seat just in front was reserved for Mr. Hill, who was to make any notes necessary.  Mr. Lincoln looked up.  His appearance was even less attractive than the night before, as he had on a dirty gray linen duster.

“I thought you’d got loose, Steve,” he said, holding out his hand.  “Glad to see you.  Just you sit down there next to Bob, where I can talk to you.”

Stephen sat down, diffident, for he knew that there were others in that train who would give ten years of their lives for that seat.

“I’ve taken a shine to this Bostonian, Joe,” said Mr Lincoln to Mr. Medill.  “We’ve got to catch ’em young to do anything with ’em, you know.  Now, Steve, just give me a notion how politics are over in St. Louis.  What do they think of our new Republican party?  Too bran new for old St. Louis, eh?”

Stephen saw expostulation in Mr. Medill’s eyes, and hesitated.  And Mr. Lincoln seemed to feel Medill’s objections, as by mental telepathy.  But he said:—­ “We’ll come to that little matter later, Joe, when the cars start.”

Naturally, Stephen began uneasily.  But under the influence of that kindly eye he thawed, and forgot himself.  He felt that this man was not one to feign an interest.  The shouts of the people on the little platform interrupted the account, and the engine staggered off with its load.

“I reckon St. Louis is a nest of Southern Democrats,” Mr. Lincoln remarked, “and not much opposition.”

“There are quite a few Old Line Whigs, sir,” ventured Stephen, smiling.

“Joe,” said Mr. Lincoln, “did you ever hear Warfield’s definition of an Old Line Whig?”

Mr. Medill had not.

“A man who takes his toddy regularly, and votes the Democratic ticket occasionally, and who wears ruffled shirts.”

Both of these gentlemen laughed, and two more in the seat behind, who had an ear to the conversation.

“But, sir,” said Stephen, seeing that he was expected to go on, “I think that the Republican party will gather a considerable strength there in another year or two.  We have the material for powerful leaders in Mr. Blair and others” (Mr. Lincoln nodded at the name).  “We are getting an ever increasing population from New England, mostly of young men who will take kindly to the new party.”  And then he added, thinking of his pilgrimage the Sunday before:  “South St. Louis is a solid mass of Germans, who are all antislavery.  But they are very foreign still, and have all their German institutions.”