knew that he had to persuade.

However, this flowing army of the propaganda did not always engage him
on the tragic note. One day a large fleshy man, of a stern but
homely countenance and a solemn and dignified carriage, immaculate
dress--"swallow-tailed coat, ruffled shirt of faultless fabric, white
cravat and orange-colored gloves"--entered with the throng. Looking at
him Lincoln was somewhat appalled. He expected some formidable demand.
To his relief, the imposing stranger delivered a brief harangue on the
President's policy, closing with, "I have watched you narrowly ever
since your inauguration. . . . As one of your constituents, I now say
to you, do in future as you damn please, and I will support you." "Sit
down, my friend," said Lincoln, "sit down. I am delighted to see you.
Lunch with us today. Yes, you must stay and lunch with us, my friend,
for I have not seen enough of you yet."(21) There were many of these
informal ambassadors of the people assuring the President of popular
support. And this florid gentleman was not the only one who lunched with
the President on first acquaintance.

This casual way of inviting strangers to lunch with him was typical of
his mode of life, which was exceedingly simple. He slept lightly and
rose early. In summer when he used the Soldiers' Home as a residence, he
was at his desk in the White House at eight o'clock in the morning. His
breakfast was an egg and a cup of coffee; luncheon was rarely more
than a glass of milk and a biscuit with a plate of fruit in season;
his dinner at six o'clock, was always a light meal. Though he had not
continued a total abstainer, as in the early days at Springfield, he
very seldom drank wine. He never used tobacco. So careless was he with
regard to food that when Mrs. Lincoln was away from home, there
was little regularity in his meals. He described his habits on such
occasions as "browsing around."(22)

Even when Mrs. Lincoln was in command at the White House, he was not
invariably dutiful. An amusing instance was observed by some high
officials. The luncheon hour arrived in the midst of an important
conference. Presently, a servant appeared reminding Mr. Lincoln of the
hour, but he took no notice. Another summons, and again no notice.
After a short interval, the door of the office flew open and the titular
"First Lady" flounced into the room, a ruffled, angry little figure,
her eyes flashing. With deliberate quiet, as if in a dream, Lincoln