oting began. The hotel corridors were
thronged with excited men. My father had become a man of wealth and great
influence in Illinois. I was with him when he went into the meeting of
the Michigan delegates and talked to them. He told how he came West in a
wagon and saw the spirit of America in the water floods of Niagara and
went on to the cabin village of New Salem and saw again the spirit of
America in the life of the boy, Abe Lincoln, then flowing toward its
manhood. When he sat down the Honorable Dennis Flanagan arose and told of
meeting the Traylor party at the Falls when he was driving an ox-team, in
a tall beaver hat; how he had remembered their good advice and cookies
and jerked venison.

"Gentlemen," he said, "I am willing to take the word of a man whose name
is hallowed by my dearest recollections. And believing what he has said
of Abraham Lincoln I am for him on the second ballot."

The green Irish lad, whom I remember dimly, had become a great political
chieftain and his words had much effect. There was a stir among the
delegates. I turned and saw the tall form of Horace Greeley entering
the door. His big, full face looked rather serious. He wore gold-bowed
spectacles. He was smooth-shaven save for the silken, white, throat beard
that came out from under his collar. His head was bald on top with soft,
silvered locks over each ear. He was a picturesque and appealing figure.
They called on him to speak. He stepped forward and said slowly in a
high-pitched drawl:

"Gentlemen, this is my speech: On your second ballot vote for Abraham
Lincoln of Illinois."

He bowed and left the room and visited many delegations, and everywhere
expressed his convictions in this formula. Backed by his tremendous
personality and influence the simple words were impressive. I doubt not
they turned scores of men from Seward to the great son of Illinois.

Then--the campaign with its crowds, its enthusiasm, its Vesuvian
mutterings. There was a curious touch of humor and history in its
banners. Here are three of them:

"Menard County for the Tall Sucker."

"We are for old Abe the Giant-Killer."

"Link on to Lincoln."

Then--those last days in Springfield.

He came to the office the afternoon before he left and threw himself on
the lounge and talked of bygone days with Herndon.

"Billy, how long have we been together?" he asked.

"Sixteen years."

"Never a cross word."

"Never."

"Keep the old sign hanging. A little th