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Lincoln, the unknown

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I94 • LINCOLN THE UNKNOWNcool sands. Horses fell in <strong>the</strong>ir harness and lay dying in <strong>the</strong>streets.But notwithstanding <strong>the</strong> heat, thousands of excited men,guns in <strong>the</strong>ir pockets, flocked to hear Douglas. No hall in Chicagocould hold <strong>the</strong> throng. They packed a public square, andhundreds stood on balconies and sat astride <strong>the</strong> roofs of near-byhouses.The very first sentence that Douglas uttered was greeted withgroans and hisses. He continued to talk—or, at least, he continuedto try—and <strong>the</strong> audience yelled and booed and sang insultingsongs and called him names that are unprintable.His excited partizans wanted to start a fight. Douglas begged<strong>the</strong>m to be quiet. He would tame <strong>the</strong> mob. He kept on trying,but he kept on failing. When he denounced <strong>the</strong> "ChicagoTribune," <strong>the</strong> great ga<strong>the</strong>ring cheered <strong>the</strong> paper. When hethreatened to stand <strong>the</strong>re all night unless <strong>the</strong>y let him speak,eight thousand voices sang: "We won't go home until morning.We won't go home until morning."It was a Saturday night. Finally, after four hours of futilityand insult, Douglas took out his watch and shouted at <strong>the</strong> howling,bellowing, milling mob: "It is now Sunday morning, I'll goto church. And you can go to hell."Exhausted, he gave up and left <strong>the</strong> speaker's stand. TheLittle Giant had met humiliation and defeat for <strong>the</strong> first timein his life.The next morning <strong>the</strong> papers told all about it; and down inSpringfield, a proud, plump brunette, trembling on <strong>the</strong> brinkof middle age, read it with peculiar satisfaction. Fifteen yearsbefore, she had dreamed of being Mrs. Douglas. For years shehad watched him mount on wings until he had become <strong>the</strong> mostpopular and powerful leader in <strong>the</strong> nation, while her husbandhad gone down in humiliating defeat; and, deep in her heart,she resented it.But now, thank God, <strong>the</strong> haughty Douglas was doomed. Hehad split his own party in his own State. And just before <strong>the</strong>election. This was <strong>Lincoln</strong>'s chance. And Mary <strong>Lincoln</strong> knewit—his chance to win back <strong>the</strong> public favor that he had lost in1848, his chance to reinstate himself politically, his chance tobe elected to <strong>the</strong> United States Senate. True, Douglas still hadfour more years to serve. But his colleague was coming up forreelection in a few months.And who was his colleague? A swaggering, pugnacious Irish-

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