ossible with the
laughter that he once described as the "universal joyous evergreen of
life."

It would be a mistake to suppose that he cared only for humorous
reading. Occasionally he read a scientific book with great interest, but
his duties left him little time for such indulgences. Few men knew
the Bible more thoroughly than he did, and his speeches are full of
scriptural quotations. The poem beginning "Oh, why should the spirit of
mortal be proud?" was one of his favorites, and Dr. Holmes's "Last Leaf"
was another. Shakespere was his constant delight. A copy of Shakespere's
works was even to be found in the busy Executive Office, from which
most books were banished. The President not only liked to read the great
poet's plays, but to see them acted; and when the gifted actor Hackett
came to Washington, he was invited to the White House, where the two
discussed the character of Falstaff, and the proper reading of many
scenes and passages.

While he was President, Mr. Lincoln did not attempt to read the
newspapers. His days were long, beginning early and ending late, but
they were not long enough for that. One of his secretaries brought him
a daily memorandum of the important news they contained. His mail was so
enormous that he personally read only about one in every hundred of the
letters sent him.

His time was principally taken up with interviews with people on matters
of importance, with cabinet meetings, conferences with his generals,
and other affairs requiring his close and immediate attention. If he had
leisure he would take a drive in the late afternoon, or perhaps steal
away into the grounds south of the Executive Mansion to test some new
kind of gun, if its inventor had been fortunate enough to bring it to
his notice. He was very quick to understand mechanical contrivances, and
would often suggest improvements that had not occurred to the inventor
himself.

For many years it has been the fashion to call Mr. Lincoln homely. He
was very tall, and very thin. His eyes were deep-sunken, his skin of a
sallow pallor, his hair coarse, black, and unruly. Yet he was neither
ungraceful, nor awkward, nor ugly. His large features fitted his large
frame, and his large hands and feet were but right on a body that
measured six feet four inches. His was a sad and thoughtful face, and
from boyhood he had carried a load of care. It was small wonder that
when alone, or absorbed in thought, the face should take on deep li