our dear old
neighbor. When we boys in a strange city saw that familiar face, oh,
the emotions that arose in our hearts! How proud we were at that hour,
that he, our neighbor, was presiding on that occasion. He took his
seat on the stage, the right of which was left vacant for some one yet
to come. Next came a very heavy man, but immediately following him
a tall, lean man. Mr. Bryant arose and went toward him, bowing and
smiling. He was an awkward specimen of a man and all about me people
were asking "Who is that?" but no man seemed to know. I asked a
gentleman who that man was, but he said he didn't know. He was an
awkward specimen indeed; one of the legs of his trousers was up about
two inches above his shoe; his hair was dishevelled and stuck out like
rooster's feathers; his coat was altogether too large for him in the
back, his arms much longer than the sleeves, and with his legs twisted
around the rungs of the chair, was the picture of embarrassment. When
Mr. Bryant arose to introduce the speaker of that evening, he was
known seemingly to few in that great hall. Mr. Bryant said: "Gentlemen
of New York, you have your favorite son in Mr. Seward and if he were
to be President of the United States, every one of us would be proud
of him." Then came great applause. "Ohio has her favorite son in Judge
Wade; and the nation would prosper under his administration, but
Gentlemen of New York, it is a great honor that is conferred upon me
to-night, for I can introduce to you the next President of the United
States, Abraham Lincoln." Then through that audience flew the query as
to whom Abraham Lincoln was. There was but weak applause. Mr. Lincoln
had in his hand a manuscript. He had written it with great care and
exactness and the speech which you read in his biography is the one
that he wrote, not the one that he delivered as I recall it, and it is
fortunate for the country that they did print the one that he wrote. I
think the one he wrote had already been set up in type that afternoon
from his manuscript, and consequently they did not go over it to see
whether it had been changed or not. He had read three pages and had
gone on to the fourth when he lost his place and then he began to
tremble and stammer. He then turned it over two or three times, threw
the manuscript upon the table, and, as they say in the west, "let
himself go." Now the stammering man who had created only silent
derision up to that point, suddenly flashed out