tary
or political event, he asked me to come to dinner, 'so as to be on hand
and see the fun afterward,' as he said. He excused himself as soon as we
had dined, and while the bands were playing, the crowds cheering and the
rockets bursting outside the house, he made his reappearance in the
parlor with a roll of manuscript in his hand. Perhaps noticing a look of
surprise on my face, he said, 'I know what you are thinking about. You
think it mighty queer that an old stump-speaker like myself should not
be able to address a crowd like this outside without a written speech.
But you must remember that in a certain way I am talking to the country,
and I have to be mighty careful. Now, the last time I made an off-hand
speech, in answer to a serenade, I used the phrase, as applied to the
rebels, "turned tail and ran." Some very nice Boston folks, I am grieved
to hear, were very much outraged by that phrase, which they thought
improper. So I resolved to make no more impromptu speeches if I could
help it.'"

In all Lincoln's writings, even his most important state papers, his
chief desire was to make himself clearly understood by the common
reader. He had a great aversion to what he called "machine writing," and
used the fewest words possible to express his meaning. He never
hesitated to employ a homely expression when it suited his purpose. In
his first message the phrase "sugar-coated" occurred; and when it was
printed, Mr. Defrees, the Public Printer, being on familiar terms with
the President, ventured an objection to the phrase--suggesting that
Lincoln was not now preparing a campaign document or delivering a stump
speech in Illinois, but constructing an important state paper that would
go down historically to all coming time; and that therefore he did not
consider the phrase "sugar-coated" as entirely a becoming and dignified
one. "Well, Defrees," replied Lincoln, good-naturedly, "if you think the
time will ever come when the people will not understand what
'sugar-coated' means, I'll alter it; otherwise, I think I'll let it go."

On the same subject, Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe says: "Our own
politicians were somewhat shocked with his state papers at first. 'Why
not let _us_ make them a little more conventional, and file them to a
classical pattern?' 'No,' was his reply, 'I shall write them myself.
_The people will understand them_.' 'But this or that form of expression
is not elegant, not classical.' '_The people will unde