he
firm bedrock of principles, the issues of the campaign on which he
proposed to stand and fight his battles, were all well considered, and
his arguments were incontrovertible. In that memorable speech culminated
all the grand thoughts he had ever uttered, embodying divinity,
statesmanship, law, and morals, and even fraught with prophecy. As he
advanced in this argument he towered to his full height, forgetting
himself entirely as he grew warm in his work. Men and women who heard
that speech well remember the wonderful transformation wrought in
Lincoln's appearance. The plain, homely man towered up majestically; his
face lit as with angelic light; the long, bent, angular figure, like the
strong oak of the forest, stood erect, and his eyes flashed with the
fire of inspiration."

The party that had nominated Lincoln for the Senate was not prepared to
endorse his restriction of the coming struggle to the single issue of
the slavery question. His friends dreaded the result of his
uncompromising frankness, while politicians quite generally condemned
it. Even so stanch a friend as Leonard Swett, whose devotion to Lincoln
never wavered throughout his whole career, shared these apprehensions.
Says Mr. Swett: "The first ten lines of that speech defeated him. The
sentiment of the 'house divided against itself' seemed wholly
inappropriate. It was a speech made at the commencement of a campaign,
and apparently made for the campaign. Viewing it in this light alone,
nothing could have been more unfortunate or inappropriate. It was saying
the wrong thing first; yet he felt that it was an abstract truth, and
that standing by the speech would ultimately find him in the right
place. I was inclined at the time to believe these words were hastily
and inconsiderately uttered; but subsequent facts have convinced me they
were deliberate and had been well matured."

A few days after the delivery of this speech, a gentleman named Dr. Long
called on Lincoln and gave him a foretaste of the remarks he was to hear
during the next few months. "Well, Lincoln," said he, "that foolish
speech of yours will kill you--will defeat you in this contest, and
probably for all offices for all time to come. I am sorry, sorry, very
sorry. I wish it was wiped out of existence. Don't you wish so too?"
Laying down the pen with which he had been writing, and slowly raising
his head and adjusting his spectacles, Lincoln replied: "Well, Doctor,
if I had to draw a pe