Lincoln, the unknown

LINCOLN THE UNKNOWN• 85nings spinning yams with the other attorneys down at the lawlibrary or telling stories to a crowd of men in Diller's drugstore.Sometimes he was seen wandering alone, late at night,through unfrequented streets, his head on his chest, gloomy andfunereal. Sometimes he said, "I hate to go home." A friend,knowing what was wrong, would take him to his house for thenight.No one knew more than Herndon about the tragic homelife of the Lincolns; and this is what Herndon had to say onpages 430-434 of the third volume of his Lincoln biography:Mr. Lincoln never had a confidant, and therefore neverunbosomed himself to others. He never spoke of his trialsto me or, so far as I knew, to any of his friends. It was agreat burden to carry, but he bore it sadly enough and withouta murmur. I could always realize when he was in distress,without being told. He was not exactly an early riser,that is, he never usually appeared at the office till aboutnine o'clock in the morning. I usually preceded him anhour. Sometimes, however, he would come down as earlyas seven o'clock—in fact, on one occasion I remember hecame down before daylight. If, on arriving at the office, Ifound him in, I knew instantly that a breeze had sprung upover the domestic sea, and that the waters were troubled.He would either be lying on the lounge looking skyward, ordoubled up in a chair with his feet resting on the sill of aback window. He would not look up on my entering, andonly answered my "Good morning" with a grunt. I at oncebusied myself with pen and paper, or ran through the leavesof some book; but the evidence of his melancholy and distresswas so plain, and his silence so significant, that Iwould grow restless myself, and finding some excuse to goto the court-house or elsewhere, would leave the room.The door of the office opening into a narrow hallwaywas half glass, with a curtain on it working on brass ringsstrung on wire. As I passed out on these occasions I woulddraw the curtain across the glass, and before I reached thebottom of the stairs I could hear the key turn in the lock,and Lincoln was alone in his gloom. An hour in the clerk'sofficeat the court-house, an hour longer in a neighboringstore having passed, I would return. By that time either a