When the telegram containing the result of the last ballot came in, although apparently calm and undisturbed, a close observer could have detected in the compressed lip and serious countenance evidences of deep and unusual emotion.
As the balloting progressed he had gone to the office of the Journal
, and was sitting in a large arm-chair there when the news of his nomination came.
What a line of scenes, stretching from the barren glade in Kentucky
to the jubilant and enthusiastic throng in the Wigwam at Chicago
, must have broken in upon his vision as he hastened from the newspaper office to “tell a little woman down the street the news!”
In the evening his friends and neighbors called to congratulate him. He thanked them feelingly and shook them each by the hand.
A day later the committee from the convention, with George Ashmun
, of Massachusetts
, at its head, called, and delivered formal notice of his nomination.
This meeting took place at his house.
His response was couched in polite and dignified language; and many of the committee, who now met him for the first time, departed with an improved impression of the new standard-bearer.
A few days later he wrote his official letter of acceptance, in which he warmly endorsed the resolutions of the convention.
His actions and utterances so far had begun to dissipate the erroneous notion prevalent in some of the more remote Eastern States, that he was more of a backwoods boor than a gentleman; but with the arrival of the campaign in dead earnest, people paid less attention to the