natives of that State, asking them, among other things, what they would do with their part of the Union, if they took it away, as they were now beginning to threaten that they would. "Are you going to keep it alongside of us outrageous fellows?" he asked. "Or are you going to build up a wall, some way, between your country and ours, by which that movable property of yours can't come over here any more, to the danger of your losing it?"

Early in 1860, Lincoln received an invitation to speak in Plymouth Church, of which Henry Ward Beecher was pastor, in Brooklyn. He accepted the invitation, but the place of assembling was subsequently changed to the Cooper Union, one of the largest halls in the United States. It was filled when Lincoln, somewhat dismayed by this his first introduction to the people of the Eastern States, rose to speak. He had been presented to the audience by William Cullen Bryant, poet and editor. On the platform and around him were some of the great men of the age and city-jurists, scholars, orators, and critics. He had prepared a very different sort of speech from that which some before him. had expected. This was not a crowd to be amused with queer stories, rough wit, and comical anecdotes. The speech was one of the most remarkable ever delivered in the city of New York. It was a masterly exposition of the history of the early days of the Republic, when our political institutions were in process of formation, special reference being made to the slavery question as then considered. It was a scholarly, skilfully framed, and closely logical

address. His style of delivery was so fresh and vigorous, his manner of illustration so clear and easily understood, that the audience drank in every word with delight. The vast auditorium was as hushed as death (save for Lincoln's own voice) when he was drawing out some fine point, some new line of argument supported by facts hitherto unknown or forgotten; and irrepressible thunders of applause burst forth when, the way being cleared, the proposition sought to be established was set before the people. This is the testimony of one who was present on that historic occasion:

"When Lincoln rose to speak, I was greatly disappointed. He was tall, tall-oh, how tall! and so angular and awkward that I had, for an instant, a feeling of pity for so ungainly a man. His clothes were black and illfitting, badly wrinkled-as if they had been jammed carelessly into a small trunk. His bushy head, with the stiff black hair thrown back, was balanced on a long and lean head-stalk, and when he raised his hands in an opening gesture, I noticed that they were very large. He began in a low tone of voice-as if he were used to speaking out-doors and was afraid of speaking too loud. He said 'Mr. Cheerman,' instead of 'Mr. Chairman,' and employed many other words with an old-fashioned pronunciation. I said to myself: 'Old fellow, you won't do; it's all very well for the wild West, but this will never go down in New York.' But pretty soon he began to get into his subject; he straightened up, made regular and graceful gestures; his face lighted as with an inward fire; the whole man was transfigured. I forgot his clothes, his personal appearance, and his individual peculiarities.

Presently, forgetting myself, I was on my feet with the rest, yelling like a wild Indian, cheering this wonderful man. In the close parts of his argument, you could hear the gentle sizzling of the gas-burners. When he reached a climax, the thunders of applause were terrific. It was a great speech. When I came out of the hall, my face glowing with excitement and my frame all a-quiver, a friend, with his eyes aglow, asked me what I thought of Abe Lincoln, the rail-splitter. I said: 'He's the greatest man since St. Paul.' And I think so yet."

The impression made by Lincoln on the muchdreaded Eastern people was highly favorable to his training, ability, and genius. The backwoodsman at last had conquered one of the most critical and cultivated audiences to be gathered in the Republic. It may be said here that Lincoln took for his theme that night the saying of his old adversary, Douglas: "Our fathers, when they framed the government under which we live, understood this question [the question of slavery] just as well, and even better than we do now." This, as Lincoln said, gave him and Douglas a common starting-point for discussion. His speech was devoted, for the most part, to an inquiry into what the fathers who framed the government thought of and did about slavery; and he showed, by conclusive and irrefutable argument and citations from history, that the fathers, whom Douglas so confidently referred to, acted as though they believed that the Federal Government had no power to put slavery into the Territories. The next section of his speech was a kindly and almost affectionate address to the people of the South.

The concluding part was addressed to Republicans, and he closed with these words: "Neither let us be slandered from our duty by false accusations against us, nor frightened from it by menaces of destruction to the Government. Let us have faith that right makes might, and in that faith, let us, to the end, dare to do our duty as we understand it."

All who read or heard that speech marvelled greatly at its pure logic, its keen analysis, and its lucid and unimpeachable English. It was widely circulated next day in the morning newspapers of the city, and went far and wide as a campaign document from the rooms of the Republican Committee. A professor of rhetoric in Yale College came to hear Lincoln. He was so impressed by what he heard that he took out his note-book, made notes of the address, and next day gave this to his class as a model; and, not satisfied with that, followed him to Meriden, Connecticut, where he again drank in the orator's marvellous eloquence. All this was to Lincoln "very extraordinary," as he expressed it. He had never, in his modest estimate of his own abilities, expected to create any such marked impression in the East. He had imbibed the current half-jealous notions of the West, whose people too commonly regarded their brothers of the Eastern States as more likely to estimate a man by what he seemed to be than by what he did. He went home gratified by his discovery that he was recognized as an original and powerful man, gifted with genius, and commending himself to the people by his great-heartedness and native nobility.

CHAPTER XV.

ELECTED TO THE PRESIDENCY.

Rending of the Democratic Party-The National Convention of 1860 -Lincoln Nominated at Chicago-A Memorable Scene-Popular Enthusiasm-Four Tickets in the Field-Lincoln's Great Triumph.

IN

N the spring of 1860 the South was dismayed. All hope of securing Kansas as a slave State was gone. A hostile majority in the House of Representatives made impossible the admission of Kansas under the odious and fraudulent Lecompton Constitution. The purchase of Cuba was now also impossible. California had long since been admitted as a free State, in spite of the threats and promises of the pro-slavery administration. All schemes for the acquiring of new territory for the expansion of the slave power had failed utterly. A new President was about to be chosen. The Democratic party was rent into two seemingly forever irreconcilable parties-Lecompton and Anti-Lecompton. Threats of secession were freely made. Many thought that these were mere bluster, words intended to be taken back if the South could be reassured. And some timorous people wanted the South to be reassured. In his Cooper Union speech, Lincoln, addressing himself to the threatening class, said:

"You say you will destroy the Union; and then you