His features betrayed neither excitement nor
anxiety. They were calm and fixed. In short, his appearance was that of
a man who felt the responsibility of his position and was determined to
acquit himself to the best of his ability. I do not remember the points
of his speech; but his manner was so peculiar, so different from that of
other orators whom I have heard, that I can never forget it. He spoke
for almost two hours, entirely without notes and with an eloquence that
I have never heard surpassed. He was all life, all motion; every muscle
and fibre of his body seemed brought into requisition. His voice was
clear, distinct, and well modulated. Every word was clean-cut and
exactly suited to its place. At times he would stoop over until his
hands almost swept the floor. Then he would straighten himself up, fold
his arms across his breast, and take a few steps forward or back. This
movement completed, he would fling his arms above his head, or thrust
them beneath his coat-tails, elevating or depressing his voice to suit
the attitude assumed and the sentiment expressed. Arms and legs were
continually in motion. It seemed impossible for him to stand still. In
the midst of the most impassioned or pathetic portions of his speech, he
would extend his long arms toward the judge or jury, and shake his bony
fingers with an effect that is indescribable. He held his audience to
the last; and when he sat down there was a murmur of applause which the
judge with difficulty prevented from swelling to a roar. The argument
must have been as able as the manner of the speaker was attractive, for
the verdict was in favor of his client.

"When he had retired to his hotel after the trial, and while conversing
with a number of gentlemen who had called to pay their respects to him,
Lincoln was informed that an old colored woman, who had known him years
before in Kentucky, wished to see him. She was too feeble to come to
him, and desired him to go to her. Ascertaining where she lived, Lincoln
started at once, accompanied by a boy who acted as pilot. He found the
woman in a wretched hovel in the outskirts of the town, sick and
destitute. He remembered her very well, as she had belonged to the owner
of the farm upon which Lincoln was born. He gave her money to supply her
immediate wants, promised her that he would see she did not suffer for
the necessaries of life, and when he returned to town hunted up a
physician and engaged him to give the old