peak French as well as English.

"Well, Mary, haven't you found the fortunate young man yet?" Mr. Edwards
playfully asked the day of her coming.

"You know my husband is going to be President of the United States and
I hoped that I would find him in Springfield," Mary answered in a like
vein.

"There's great fishing here," said Mr. Edwards. "I know the very man
you are looking for. He has come up from the ranks and is now the most
popular member of the Legislature. He can make a stirring speech and they
say he is going to be the President of the United States. He's wise and
witty and straight as a string but a rough diamond--big, awkward and
homely. You're just the girl to take him in hand and give him a little
polish and push him along. His name is Abraham Lincoln."

Speed knew the Todds--a distinguished Kentucky family with a Governor of
Virginia and other historic figures in its record. When he called upon
Mary she asked about Mr. Lincoln and said she would like to meet him.

"She's just the girl for you, Abe," Speed said to him that evening. "She
is bright and well educated and her family has influence. She could be a
great help to you."

This interested the member from Sangamon County who was indeed eager to
get along. The companionship of a refined young lady was the very thing
he needed.

"Let's go over and pay our respects to her," Speed suggested. They went,
Lincoln being carefully dressed in his first suit of black clothes.
Miss Todd was a bright, vivacious girl of middle stature, twenty-two
years old. She was fashionably dressed and carried her head proudly--a
smart-looking, witty, well spoken girl but not especially handsome. She
was most agreeable to the young men. Honest Abe was deeply impressed by
her talk and fine manners and general comeliness. He felt her grace and
charm and spoke of it, with enthusiasm. But to him and to her there
seemed to be an impassable gulf between them. She changed her mind about
that, however, when she heard him speak and felt the power of his
personality and saw his face lighted by the candle of his spirit. It was
a handsome face in those moments of high elation. Hardship and malarial
poison had lined and sallowed his skin. He used to say that every time
the fever and ague walked over him, they left a track on his face. The
shadows of loneliness and sorrow were in its sculpturing. But when his
eyes glowed with passion one saw not the rough mask which the life of
the pi