His room was very near my own.

I sent in my card, and he greeted me with a characteristic grasp of the hand, and his first sentence rather touched my soft spot when he said: "I have kept up with you nearly every week in the _New York Independent_." His voice had a clear, magnetic ring, and his heart seemed to be in his voice.

Three months afterwards I saw him again, riding down Broadway, New York (thronged with a gazing multitude), on his way to assume the presidency at Washington.

He stood up in a barouche holding on with his hand to the seat of the driver.

His towering figure was filled out by a long blue cloak, and a heavy cape which he wore.