n this memorable contest, but rather to give
such reminiscences and anecdotes, and description by eye-witnesses, as
will best serve to bring the scenes and actors vividly to mind.
Fortunately, many such records are still in existence, and from them
some most entertaining personal accounts have been obtained. Among these
is an impressive pen-picture of Lincoln on the stump, as admirably
sketched by the Rev. Dr. George C. Noyes, of Chicago. "Mr. Lincoln in
repose," says Dr. Noyes, "was a very different man in personal
appearance from Mr. Lincoln on the platform or on the stump, when his
whole nature was roused by his masterful interest in the subject of his
discourse. In the former case he was, as has often been described, a man
of awkward and ungainly appearance and exceedingly homely countenance.
In the latter case, he was a man of magnificent presence and remarkably
impressive manner. The writer retains to this day a very vivid
impression of his appearance in both these characters, and both on the
same day. It was in Jacksonville, in the summer of 1858, and during the
great contest with Douglas, when the prize contended for was a seat in
the United States Senate. The day was warm; the streets were dusty, and
filled with great crowds of people. When Lincoln arrived on the train
from Springfield, he was met by an immense procession of people on
horseback, in carriages, in wagons and vehicles of every description,
and on foot, who escorted him through the principal streets to his
hotel. The enthusiasm of the multitude was great; but Lincoln's
extremely homely face wore an expression of sadness. He rode in a
carriage near the head of the procession, looking dust-begrimed and worn
and weary; and though he frequently lifted his hat in recognition of the
cheers of the crowds lining the streets, I saw no smile on his face, and
he seemed to take no pleasure in the demonstrations of enthusiasm which
his presence called forth. His clothes were very ill-fitting, and his
long arms and hands protruded far through his coat sleeves, giving him a
peculiarly uncouth appearance. Though I had often seen him before, and
had heard him in court--always with delight in his clearness and cogency
of statement, his illuminating humor, and his conspicuous fairness and
candor--yet I had never before seen him when he appeared so homely; and
I thought him about the ugliest man I had ever seen. There was nothing
in his looks or manner that was preposse