gleamed in the light, the kindest of
faces, lit with laughing blue eyes, and
he leaned forward on his heavy stick
and seemed to mind the plunging of
our vehicle. The other man was mid-
dle-aged, dark, silent-looking, and, I
decided, rather like a king. We all
rode in silence for a while, but by and
by the old man said kindly:

"Where are you going, my child?"

I told him.

"And whose daughter are you?" he
inquired. I told him that with pride.
"I know people all through the state,"
he said, "but I don't seem to remember
that name."

"Don't you remember my father,
sir?" I cried, anxiously, edging up
closer to him. "Not that great and
good man! Why, Abraham Lincoln
and my father are the greatest men
that ever lived!"

His head nodded strangely, as he
lifted it and looked at me with his
laughing eye.