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“ [487] the God of our fathers may not forsake us now. To him I commend you all. Permit me to ask that with equal sincerity and faith you will invoke his wisdom and guidance for me. With these words I must leave you, for how long I know not. Friends, one and all, I must now bid you an affectionate farewell.”

At the conclusion of this neat and appropriate farewell the train rolled slowly out, and Mr. Lincoln, still standing in the doorway of the rear car, took his last view of Springfield. The journey had been as well advertised as it had been carefully planned, and therefore, at every town along the route, and at every stop, great crowds were gathered to catch a glimpse of the President-elect.1 Mr. Lincoln


“ Before Mr. Lincoln's election in 1860 I, then a child of eleven years, was presented with his lithograph. Admiring him with my whole heart, I thought still his appearance would be much improved should he cultivate his whiskers. Childish thoughts must have utterance. So I proposed the idea to him, expressing as well as I was able the esteem in which he was held among honest men. A few days after I received this kind and friendly letter:

Springfield, Ill., October 19, 1860.
Miss grace Bedell.

My Dear little Miss:--Your very agreeable letter of the 15th is received. I regret the necessity of saying I have no daughter. I have three sons--one seventeen, one nine, and one seven. They with their mother constitute my whole family. As to the whiskers, I have never worn any do you not think that people would call it a piece of silly affectation were I to begin wearing them now?

I am your true friend and sincere well-wisher,

A. Lincoln.

It appears I was not forgotten, for after his election to the Presidency, while on his Journey to Washington, the train stopped at Westfield, Chautauqua County, at which place I then resided. Mr. Lincoln said, ‘I have a correspondent in this place, a little girl whose name is Grace Bedell, and I would like to see her.’ I was conveyed to him; he stepped from the cars, extending his hand and saying, ‘You see I have let these whiskers grow for you, Grace,’ kissed me, shook me cordially by the hand, and was gone. I was frequently afterward assured of his remembrance.

--Grace G. Bedell, Ms. letter, Dec. 14, 1866.

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