They're big things he'll have to
deal with. "The end of that is not yet." That's what old John Brown
said, "the end of that is not yet."

ABRAHAM LINCOLN _comes in, a greenish and crumpled top hat leaving
his forehead well uncovered, his wide pockets brimming over with
documents. He is fifty, and he still preserves his clean-shaven state.
He kisses his wife and shakes hands with his friends._

_Lincoln:_ Well, Mary. How d'ye do, Samuel. How d'ye do, Timothy.

_Mr. Stone and Mr. Cuffney:_ Good-evening, Abraham.

_Lincoln (while he takes of his hat and shakes out sundry papers from
the lining into a drawer):_ John Brown, did you say? Aye, John Brown.
But that's not the way it's to be done. And you can't do the right
thing the wrong way. That's as bad as the wrong thing, if you're going
to keep the state together.

_Mr. Cuffney:_ Well, we'll be going. We only came in to give you
good-faring, so to say, in the great word you've got to speak this
evening.

_Mr. Stone:_ It makes a humble body almost afraid of himself, Abraham,
to know his friend is to be one of the great ones of the earth, with
his yes and no law for these many, many thousands of folk.

_Lincoln:_ It makes a man humble to be chosen so, Samuel. So humble
that no man but would say "No" to such bidding if he dare. To be
President of this people, and trouble gathering everywhere in men's
hearts. That's a searching thing. Bitterness, and scorn, and wrestling
often with men I shall despise, and perhaps nothing truly done at the
end. But I must go. Yes. Thank you, Samuel; thank you, Timothy. Just a
glass of that cordial, Mary, before they leave.

_He goes to a cupboard._

May the devil smudge that girl!

_Calling at the door._

Susan! Susan Deddington! Where's that darnation cordial?

_Mrs. Lincoln:_ It's all right, Abraham. I told the girl to keep it
out. The cupboard's choked with papers.

_Susan (coming in with bottle and glasses):_ I'm sure I'm sorry. I was
told--

_Lincoln:_ All right, all right, Susan. Get along with you.

_Susan:_ Thank you, sir. _She goes._

_Lincoln (pouring out drink):_ Poor hospitality for whiskey-drinking
rascals like yourselves. But the thought's good.

_Mr. Stone:_ Don't mention it, Abraham.

_Mr. Cuffney:_ We wish you well, Abraham. Our compliments, ma'am. And
God bless America! Samuel, I give you the United States, and Abraham
Lincoln.

MR. CUFFNEY _and_ MR. STONE _drink._

_Mrs. Lincoln:_ Thank you.

_Li