ed that
because of the unsettled condition of public affairs it would be better
for the President-elect to come a week earlier; but Mr. Lincoln allowed
himself only time comfortably to fill the engagements he had made to
visit the State capitals and principal cities that lay on his way, to
which he had been invited by State and town officials, regardless of
party. The morning on which he left Springfield was dismal and stormy,
but fully a thousand of his friends and neighbors assembled to bid him
farewell. The weather seemed to add to the gloom and depression of their
spirits, and the leave-taking was one of subdued anxiety, almost of
solemnity. Mr. Lincoln took his stand in the waiting-room while his
friends filed past him, often merely pressing his hand in silent
emotion. The arrival of the rushing train broke in upon this ceremony,
and the crowd closed about the car into which the President-elect and
his party made their way. Just as they were starting, when the conductor
had his hand upon the bell-rope, Mr. Lincoln stepped out upon the front
platform and made the following brief and pathetic address. It was the
last time his voice was to be heard in the city which had so long been
his home:

"My Friends: No one not in my situation can appreciate my feeling of
sadness at this parting. To this place and the kindness of these people
I owe everything. Here I have lived a quarter of a century, and have
passed from a young to an old man. Here my children have been born,
and one is buried. I now leave, not knowing when or whether ever I
may return, with a task before me greater than that which rested
upon Washington. Without the assistance of that Divine Being who ever
attended him, I cannot succeed. With that assistance I cannot fail.
Trusting in Him who can go with me, and remain with you, and be
everywhere for good, let us confidently hope that all will yet be well.
To His care commending you, as I hope in your prayers you will commend
me, I bid you an affectionate farewell."

The conductor gave the signal, the train rolled slowly out of the
station, and the journey to Washington was begun. It was a remarkable
progress. At almost every station, even the smallest, crowds had
gathered to catch a glimpse of the face of the President-elect, or
at least to see the flying train. At the larger stopping-places
these crowds swelled to thousands, and in the great cities to almost
unmanageable throngs. Everywhere there were call