ople on both sides keep
their self-possession, and just as other clouds have cleared away in due
time, so will this; and this great nation shall continue to prosper as
heretofore." Alluding more definitely to his purposes for the future, he
declared: "I shall do all that may be in my power to promote a peaceful
settlement of all our difficulties. The man does not live who is more
devoted to peace than I am--none who would do more to preserve it. _But
it may be necessary to put the foot down firmly_."

At the conclusion of Lincoln's speech at Columbus, a tremendous crowd
surged forward to shake his hand. Says Dr. Holland: "Every man in the
crowd was anxious to wrench the hand of Abraham Lincoln. He finally gave
both hands to the work, with great good nature. To quote one of the
reports of the occasion: 'People plunged at his arms with frantic
enthusiasm, and all the infinite variety of shakes, from the wild and
irrepressible pump-handle movement to the dead grip, was executed upon
the devoted _dexter_ and _sinister_ of the President. Some glanced at
his face as they grasped his hand; others invoked the blessings of
heaven upon him; others affectionately gave him their last gasping
assurance of devotion; others, bewildered and furious, with hats crushed
over their eyes, seized his hands in a convulsive grasp, and passed on
as if they had not the remotest idea who, what, or where they were.' The
President at last escaped, and took refuge in the Governor's residence,
although he held a levee at the State House in the evening, where in a
more quiet way he met many prominent citizens."

At Cincinnati, where Lincoln had had so distasteful an experience a few
years before, a magnificent ovation greeted him. The scene is described
by one who witnessed it--Hon. William Henry Smith, at that time a
resident of Cincinnati. "It was on the 13th of February that Mr. Lincoln
reached the Queen City. The day was mild for mid-winter, but the sky was
overcast with clouds, emblematic of the gloom that filled the hearts of
the unnumbered thousands who thronged the streets and covered the
house-tops. Lincoln rode in an open carriage, standing erect with
uncovered head, and steadying himself by holding on to a board fastened
to the front part of the vehicle. A more uncomfortable ride than this,
over the bouldered streets of Cincinnati, cannot well be imagined.
Perhaps a journey over the broken roads of Eastern Russia, in a
tarantass, would sec