It was
a typical midsummer day in Illinois. The prairie roads were thoroughly
baked by the sun, and the dust rose, like a fine powder, from beneath
the feet of horses and pedestrians, enveloping all in blinding clouds.
A train of seventeen cars had brought ardent supporters of Douglas
from Chicago. The town was gaily decked; the booming of cannon
resounded across the prairie; bands of music added to the excitement
of the occasion. The speakers were escorted to the public square by
two huge processions. So eager was the crowd that it was with much
difficulty, and no little delay, that Lincoln and Douglas, the
committee men, and the reporters, were landed on the platform.[708]

For the first time in the campaign, the rival candidates were placed
side by side. The crowd instinctively took its measure of the two men.
They presented a striking contrast:[709] Lincoln, tall, angular, and
long of limb; Douglas, short, almost dwarfed by comparison,
broad-shouldered and thick-chested. Lincoln was clad in a frock coat
of rusty black, which was evidently not made for his lank, ungainly
body. His sleeves did not reach his wrists by several inches, and his
trousers failed to conceal his huge feet. His long, sinewy neck
emerged from a white collar, drawn over a black tie. Altogether, his
appearance bordered upon the grotesque, and would have provoked mirth
in any other than an Illinois audience, which knew and respected the
man too well to mark his costume. Douglas, on the contrary, presented
a well-groomed figure. He wore a well-fitting suit of broadcloth; his
linen was immaculate; and altogether he had the appearance of a man of
the world whom fortune had favored.

The eyes of the crowd, however, sought rather the faces of the rival
candidates. Lincoln looked down upon them with eyes in which there was
an expression of sadness, not to say melancholy, until he lost himself
in the passion of his utterance. There was not a regular feature in
his face. The deep furrows that seamed his countenance bore
unmistakable witness to a boyhood of grim poverty and grinding toil.
Douglas surveyed the crowd from beneath his shaggy brows, with bold,
penetrating gaze. Every feature of his face bespoke power. The
deep-set eyes; the dark, almost sinister, line between them; the mouth
with its tightly-drawn lips; the deep lines on his somewhat puffy
cheeks--all gave the impression of a masterful nature, accustomed to
bear down opposition. As men obse