alone into the Sabbath School of the Five Points Mission, interested to learn what could be done for the street children of the city. The superintendent was impressed by the appearance of the visitor, and invited him to address the girls and boys. Without hesitation he consented, and immediately began a little speech that completely captivated his young listeners. Several times he essayed to stop, but his listeners cried out, "Go on, go on, sir." "Do go on." It was an unusual address, and charmed both teacher and pupil alike. When he was about to depart, the superintendent said,

"Pardon me; may I have the pleasure of knowing who my visitor is?"

"Abraham Lincoln, of Illinois," he replied.

He spoke at Norwich, Conn., and subsequently Dr. Gulliver published the following instructive and interesting account of his interview with him, on the next morning after listening to him:

"The next morning I met him at the railroad station, where he was conversing with our Mayor, every few minutes looking up the track and inquiring, half-impatiently and half-quizzically, 'Where's that "wagon" of yours? Why don't the "wagon come along?' On being introduced to him, he fixed his eyes upon me, and said, 'I have seen you before, sir!' 'I think not,' I replied: 'you must mistake me for some other person.' 'No, I don't; I saw you at the Town Hall last evening.' 'Is it possible, Mr. Lincoln, that you could observe individuals so closely in such a crowd?' 'Oh, yes!' he replied, laughing; 'that is my way.. I don't forget faces. Were you not there?' 'I was, sir, and I was well paid for going;' adding, somewhat in the vein of pleasantry he had started, 'I consider it one of the most extraordinary speeches I ever heard.'

As we entered the cars, he beckoned me to take a

seat with him, and said, in a most agreeably frank way, 'Were you sincere in what you said about my speech just now?'

"I meant every word of it, Mr. Lincoln. Why, an old dyed-in-the-wool Democrat, who sat near me, applauded you repeatedly, and when rallied upon his conversion to sound principles, answered: “I don't believe a word he says, but I can't help clapping him, he's so pat." That I call the triumph of oratory,

""When you convince a man against his will,

Though he is of the same opinion still.'

Indeed, sir, I learned more of the art of public speaking last evening than I could from a whole course of lectures on Rhetoric.'

"Ah! that reminds me,' said he, 'of a most extraordinary circumstance which occurred in New Haven the other day. They told me that the Professor of Rhetoric 'in Yale College,-a very learned man, isn't he?'

"Yes, sir, and a fine critic too.'

'Well, I suppose so; he ought to be, at any rate,— they told me that he came to hear me, and took notes of my speech, and gave a lecture on it to his class the next day; and, not satisfied with that, he followed me up to Meriden the next evening, and heard me again for the same purpose. Now, if this is so, it is to my mind very extraordinary. I should like very much to know what it was in my speech you thought so remarkable, and what you suppose interested my friend, the Professor, so much.'

"The clearness of your statements, Mr. Lincoln; the unanswerable style of your reasoning, and especially your illustrations, which were romance and pathos, and fun and logic, all welded together. That story about

the snakes, for example, which set the hands and feet of your Democratic hearers in such vigorous motion, was at once queer and comical, and tragic and augumentative. It broke through all the barriers of a man's previous opinions and prejudices at a crash, and blew up the very citadel of his false theories before he could know what had hurt him.'

"Can you remember any other illustrations,' said he, ' of this peculiarity of my style?'

"I gave him others of the same sort, occupying some half-hour in the critique, when he said: 'I am much obliged to you for this. I have been wishing for a long time to find some one who would make this analysis for me. It throws light on a subject which has been dark to me. I hope you have not been too flattering in your estimate. Certainly, I have had a most wonderful success, for a man of my limited education.'

"That suggests, Mr. Lincoln, an inquiry which has several times been upon my lips during this conversation. I want very much to know how you got this unusual power of "putting things." It must have been a matter of education. No man has it by nature alone. What has your education been ?

"Well, as to education, the newspapers are correct; I never went to school more than six months in my life. But, as you say, this must be a product of culture in some form. I have been putting the question you ask me to myself, while you have been talking. I can say this, that among my earliest recollections I remember how, when a mere child, I used to get irritated when anybody talked to me in a way I could not understand. I don't think I ever got angry at anything else in my life. But that always disturbs my temper, and has ever since. I can remember going to my little bed-room, after hearing the neighbours talk of an evening with my

father, and spending no small part of the night walking up and down, and trying to make out what was the exact meaning of some of their, to me, dark sayings. I could not sleep, though I often tried to, when I got on such a hunt after an idea, until I had caught it; and when I thought I had got it, I was not satisfied until I had repeated it over and over, until I had put it in language plain enough, as I thought, for any boy I knew to comprehend. This was a kind of passion with me, and it has stuck by me; for I am never easy now, when I am handling a thought, till I have bounded it North, and bounded it South, and bounded it East, and bounded it West. Perhaps that accounts for the characteristic you observe in my speeches, though I never put the two things together before.'

"Mr. Lincoln, I thank you for this. It is the most splendid educational-fact I ever happened upon. But, let me ask, did you prepare for your profession?'

'Oh, yes! I "read law," as the phrase is; that is, I became a lawyer's clerk in Springfield, and copied tedious documents, and picked up what I could of law in the intervals of other work. But your question reminds me of a bit of education I had which I am bound in honesty to mention. In the course of my lawreading, I constantly came upon the word demonstrate. I thought at first that I understood its meaning, but soon became satisfied that I did not. I said to myself, "What do I mean when I demonstrate more than when I reason or prove? How does demonstration differ from any other proof?" I consulted Webster's Dictionary. That told of " certain proof," "proof beyond the possibility of doubt"; but I could form no idea what sort of proof that was. I thought a great many things were proved beyond a possibility of doubt, without recourse to any such extraordinary process of reasoning as I

understood "demonstration" to be. I consulted all the dictionaries and books of reference I could find, but with no better results. You might as well have defined blue to a blind man. At last I said, "Lincoln, you can never make a lawyer if you do not understand what demonstrate means ;" and I left my situation in Springfield, went home to my father's house, and stayed there till I could give any proposition in the six books of Euclid at sight. I then found out what "demonstrate" means, and went back to my law-studies.'

"I could not refrain from saying, in my admiration at such a development of character and genius combined: 'Mr. Lincoln, your success is no longer a marvel. It is the legitimate result of adequate causes. You deserve it all, and a great deal more. If you will permit me, I would like to use this fact publicly. It will be most valuable in inciting our young men to that patient classical and mathematical culture which most minds absolutely require. No man can talk well unless he is able first of all to define to himself what he is talking about. Euclid, well studied, would free the world of half its calamities, by banishing half the nonsense which now deludes and curses it. I have often thought that Euclid would be one of the best books to put on the catalogue of the Tract Society, if they could only get people to read it. It would be a means of grace.'

"I think so,' said he, laughing; I vote for Euclid.' "As we neared the end of our journey, Mr. Lincoln turned to me very pleasantly, and said, 'I want to thank you for this conversation. I have enjoyed it very much.' I replied, referring to some stalwart denunciations he had just been uttering of the demoralizing influence of Washington upon Northern politicians in respect to the slavery question, ‘Mr. Lincoln, may I say one thing to you before we separate?'