ience nor poetry is ever able to analyze and
explain its causes and effects. The conflicting stories then current,
and the varying traditions that yet exist, either fail to agree or to
fit the sparse facts which came to light. There remains no dispute,
however, that the occurrence, whatever shape it took, threw Mr. Lincoln
into a deeper despondency than any he had yet experienced, for on
January 23, 1841, he wrote to his law partner, John T. Stuart:

"For not giving you a general summary of news you must pardon me; it is
not in my power to do so. I am now the most miserable man living. If
what I feel were equally distributed to the whole human family, there
would not be one cheerful face on earth. Whether I shall ever be better,
I cannot tell; I awfully forebode I shall not. To remain as I am is
impossible; I must die or be better."

Apparently his engagement to Miss Todd was broken off, but whether that
was the result or the cause of his period of gloom seems still a matter
of conjecture. His mind was so perturbed that he felt unable to attend
the sessions of the legislature of which he was a member; and after its
close his intimate friend Joshua F. Speed carried him off for a visit to
Kentucky. The change of scene and surroundings proved of great benefit.
He returned home about midsummer very much improved, but not yet
completely restored to a natural mental equipoise. While on their visit
to Kentucky, Speed had likewise fallen in love, and in the following
winter had become afflicted with doubts and perplexities akin to those
from which Lincoln had suffered. It now became his turn to give sympathy
and counsel to his friend, and he did this with a warmth and delicacy
born of his own spiritual trials, not yet entirely overmastered. He
wrote letter after letter to Speed to convince him that his doubts about
not truly loving the woman of his choice were all nonsense.

"Why, Speed, if you did not love her, although you might not wish her
death, you would most certainly be resigned to it. Perhaps this point
is no longer a question with you, and my pertinacious dwelling upon it
is a rude intrusion upon your feelings. If so, you must pardon me. You
know the hell I have suffered on that point, and how tender I am upon
it.... I am now fully convinced that you love her, as ardently as you
are capable of loving.... It is the peculiar misfortune of both you and
me to dream dreams of Elysium far exceeding all that anything earthl