attending court, one of his companions reading from a daily paper just
received from Chicago, the result of the ballot. The simple name
Lincoln was given, without the name of the man's State. Lincoln said
indifferently that he did not suppose it could be himself; and added
that there was "another great man" of the name, a man from
Massachusetts. The next day, however, he knew that it was himself to
whom the convention had given so strong an endorsement. He knew also
that the ticket chosen was Fremont and Dayton.

The campaign of the following summer and fall was one of intense
activity for Lincoln. In Illinois and the neighboring States he made
over fifty speeches, only fragments of which have been preserved. One
of the first important ones was delivered on July 4, 1856, at a great
mass meeting at Princeton, the home of the Lovejoys and the Bryants.
The people were still irritated by the outrages in Kansas and by the
attack on Sumner in the Senate, and the temptation to deliver a
stirring and indignant oration must have been strong. Lincoln's speech
was, however, a fine example of political wisdom, an historical
argument admirably calculated to convince his auditors that they were
right in their opposition to slavery extension, but so controlled and
sane that it would stir no impulsive radical to violence. There
probably was not uttered in the United States on that critical 4th of
July, 1856, when the very foundation of the government was in dispute
and the day itself seemed a mockery, a cooler, more logical speech
than this by the man who, a month before, had driven a convention so
nearly mad that the very reporters had forgotten to make notes. And
the temper of this Princeton speech Lincoln kept throughout the
campaign.

In spite of the valiant struggle of the Republicans, Buchanan was
elected; but Lincoln was in no way discouraged. The Republicans had
polled 1,341,264 votes in the country. In Illinois, they had given
Fremont nearly 100,000 votes, and they had elected their candidate for
governor, General Bissell. Lincoln turned from arguments to
encouragement and good counsel.

"All of us," he said at a Republican banquet in Chicago, a few weeks
after the election, "who did not vote for Mr. Buchanan, taken
together, are a majority of four hundred thousand. But in the late
contest we were divided between Fremont and Fillmore. Can we not come
together for the future? Let every one who really believes and is
resol