He looked at me from under his eyebrows and said, “You almost think me
handsome, don’t you?”
His face then beamed with such kind benevolence and was lighted by
such a pleasant smile that I looked at him, and with my usual impulse,
said, clasping my hands together, “You are perfectly lovely to me,
now, Mr. Lincoln.” He colored a little and laughed most heartily.
As I arose to go, he reached out his hand, that hand in which there
was so much power and so little beauty, and held mine clasped and
covered in his own. I bowed my head and pressed my lips most
reverently upon the sacred shield, even as I would upon my country’s
shrine. A silent prayer went up from my heart, “God bless you, Abraham
Lincoln.” I heard him say goodbye, and I was gone. Thus ended the most
interesting interview of my life with one of the most remarkable men
of the age.
My impressions of him had been so varied, his character had assumed so
many different phases, his very looks had changed so frequently and so
entirely, that it almost seemed to me I had been conversing with half
a dozen different men. He blended in his character the most yielding
flexibility with the most unflinching firmness, child-like simplicity
and weakness with statesmanlike wisdom and masterly strength, but over
and around all was thrown the mantle of an unquestioned integrity.