Francis B. Carpenter, Six Months at the White House

[122] train of cars started upon the Central Railroad, passing through Springfield, and Mr. R. took passage in the same. Arriving at Springfield, he put up at a public house, and, loitering upon the front door-steps, had the curiosity to inquire of the landlord where Mr. Lincoln lived. While giving the necessary directions, the landlord suddenly remarked, “There is Mr. Lincoln now, coming down the sidewalk; that tall, crooked man, loosely walking this way. If you wish to see him, you will have an opportunity by putting yourself in his track.”

In a few moments the object of his curiosity reached the point the gentleman occupied, who, advancing, ventured to accost him thus: “Is this Mr. Lincoln?” “That, sir, is my name,” was the courteous reply. “My name is R., from Plymouth County, Massachusetts,” returned the gentleman; “and learning that you have to-day been made the public property of the United States, I have ventured to introduce myself, with a view to a brief acquaintance, hoping you will pardon such a patriotic curiosity in a stranger.” Mr. Lincoln received his salutations with cordiality, told him no apology was necessary for his introduction, and asked him to accompany him to his residence. He had just come from the telegraph office, where he had learned the fact of his nomination; and was on his return home, when Mr. R. met and accompanied him thither.

Arriving at Mr. Lincoln's residence, he was