ry of earth
To be remembered by chance
At a fireside.
But the ardours that they bear,
The proud and invincible motions of
character--

These--these abide.

SCENE I.

_The parlour of Abraham Lincoln's House at Springfield, Illinois,
early in 1860_. MR. STONE, _a farmer, and_ MR. CUFFNEY, _a
store-keeper, both men of between fifty and sixty, are sitting before
an early spring fire. It is dusk, but the curtains are not drawn. The
men are smoking silently_.

_Mr. Stone (after a pause)_: Abraham. It's a good name for a man to
bear, anyway.

_Mr. Cuffney_: Yes. That's right.

_Mr. Stone (after another pause)_: Abraham Lincoln. I've known him
forty years. Never crooked once. Well.

_He taps his pipe reflectively on the grate. There is another pause_.
SUSAN, _a servant-maid, comes in, and busies herself lighting candles
and drawing the curtains to._

_Susan_: Mrs. Lincoln has just come in. She says she'll be here
directly.

_Mr. Cuffney_: Thank you.

_Mr. Stone_: Mr. Lincoln isn't home yet, I dare say?

_Susan:_ No, Mr. Stone. He won't be long, with all the gentlemen
coming.

_Mr. Stone:_ How would you like your master to be President of the
United States, Susan?

_Susan:_ I'm sure he'd do it very nicely, sir.

_Mr. Cuffney:_ He would have to leave Springfield, Susan, and go to
live in Washington.

_Susan:_ I dare say we should take to Washington very well, sir.

_Mr. Cuffney:_ Ah! I'm glad to hear that.

_Susan:_ Mrs. Lincoln's rather particular about the tobacco smoke.

_Mr. Stone:_ To be sure, yes, thank you, Susan.

_Susan:_ The master doesn't smoke, you know. And Mrs. Lincoln's
specially particular about this room.

_Mr. Cuffney:_ Quite so. That's very considerate of you, Susan.

_They knock out their pipes._

_Susan:_ Though some people might not hold with a gentleman not doing
as he'd a mind in his own house, as you might say.

_She goes out._

_Mr. Cuffney (after a further pause, stroking his pipe)_: I suppose
there's no doubt about the message they'll bring?

_Mr. Stone_: No, that's settled right enough. It'll be an invitation.
That's as sure as John Brown's dead.

_Mr. Cuffney_: I could never make Abraham out rightly about old John.
One couldn't stomach slaving more than the other, yet Abraham didn't
hold with the old chap standing up against it with the sword. Bad
philosophy, or something, he called it. Talked about fanatics who do
nothing but get themselves at a rope's