of his contempt for the "long, lank creature
from Illinois," as he afterwards described him, "wearing a dirty linen
duster for a coat, on the back of which the perspiration had splotched
wide stains that resembled a dirty map of the continent." He blurted out
his wrath and indignation to his associate counsel, declaring that if
"that giraffe" was permitted to appear in the case he would throw up his
brief and leave it. Lincoln keenly felt the affront, but his great
nature forgave it so entirely that, recognizing the singular abilities
of Stanton beneath his brusque exterior, he afterwards, for the public
good, appointed him to a seat in his cabinet.

Lincoln, says Mr. Dickson, "remained in Cincinnati about a week, moving
freely about. Yet not twenty men in the city knew him personally, or
knew he was here; not a hundred would have known who he was had his name
been given to them. He came with the fond hope of making fame in a
forensic contest with Reverdy Johnson. He was pushed aside, humiliated
and mortified. He attached to the innocent city the displeasure that
filled his bosom, and shook its dust from his feet."

In his Autobiography, Moncure D. Conway records a glimpse of Lincoln
during his Cincinnati visit that seems worth transcribing. "One warm
evening in 1859, passing through the market-place in Cincinnati, I found
there a crowd listening to a political speech in the open air. The
speaker stood on the balcony of a small brick house, some lamps
assisting the moonlight. Something about the speaker, and some words
that reached me, led me to press nearer. I asked the speaker's name, and
learned that it was Abraham Lincoln. Browning's description of the
German professor, 'Three parts sublime to one grotesque,' was applicable
to this man. The face had a battered and bronzed look, without being
hard. His nose was prominent, and buttressed a strong and high forehead.
His eyes were high-vaulted, and had an expression of sadness; his mouth
and chin were too close together, the cheeks hollow. On the whole,
Lincoln's appearance was not attractive until one heard his voice, which
possessed variety of expression, earnestness, and shrewdness in every
tone. The charm of his manner was that he had no manner; he was simple,
direct, humorous. He pleasantly repeated a mannerism of his
opponent,--'This is what Douglas calls his '_gur-reat per-rinciple.'_
But the next words I remember were these: '_Slavery is wrong_.'"

CHAPT