rs in
earnest conversation upon the most serious themes. At the close, Dr.
Bateman said: "I did not know, Mr. Lincoln, that it was your habit to
think so deeply upon this class of subjects." "Didn't you?" said Mr.
Lincoln. "I can almost say that I think of _nothing else_."

One day there entered Lincoln's room a tall Southerner, a Colonel
Somebody from Mississippi, whose eye's hard glitter spoke supercilious
distrust and whose stiff bearing betokened suppressed hostility. It was
beautiful, says Dr. Bateman, to see the cold flash of the Southerner's
dark eye yield to a warmer glow, and the haughty constraint melt into
frank good-nature, under the influence of Lincoln's words of simple
earnestness and unaffected cordiality. They got so far in half an hour
that Lincoln could say, in his hearty way: "Colonel, how tall are you?"
"Well, taller than you, Mr. Lincoln," replied the Mississippian. "You
are mistaken there," retorted Lincoln. "Dr. Bateman, will you measure
us?" "You will have to permit me to stand on a chair for that,"
responded the Doctor. So a big book was adjusted above the head of each,
and pencil marks made at the respective points of contact with the white
wall. Lincoln's altitude, as thus indicated, was a quarter inch above
that of the Colonel. "I knew it," said Lincoln. "They raise tall men
down in Mississippi, but you go home and tell your folks that _Old Abe
tops you a little_." The Colonel went away much mollified and impressed.
"My God!" said he to Dr. Bateman, as he went out. "There's going to be
war; but could my people know what I have learned within the last hour,
there need be no war."

During the Presidential campaign, the vote of the city of Springfield
was canvassed house by house. There were at that time twenty-three
clergymen residing in the city (not all pastors). All but three of these
signified their intention to vote _against_ Lincoln. This fact seemed to
grieve him somewhat. Soon after, in conversing upon the subject with Dr.
Bateman, he said, as if thinking aloud: "These gentlemen know that Judge
Douglas does not care a cent whether slavery in the territories is voted
up or voted down, for he has repeatedly told them so. They know that I
_do_ care." Then, drawing from a breast pocket a well-thumbed copy of
the New Testament, he added, after a pause, tapping upon the book with
his bony finger: "I do not so understand this book."

The poet Bryant was conspicuous among the prominent Easte