The San Francisco call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913, 1895-04-21

| President, says a writer in the Chicago
| Inter Ocean.
At length, unwilling to dissappoint them
altogether, he came. 1t was The first time
[ had seen him. heard the somewhat
elaborate paper which he read on the next
evening to larger audience, and which is
preserved among his important papers;
yet, the impromptu and somewhat reluc-
tant speech on Monday evening, in which
his purpose was to reciprocate the genial
greeting of his hearers, but to utter moth
ing otherwise significant, afforded a far
more interesting presentation of the per-
sonality of the man than the more formal
address afterward. He came forward brisk
and cheerful, offhand and elastic, as from
good dinner, and exceedingly well salts
fed with the condition of things in general.
There was a dash of exuberance in his
manner. 1t would seem to one seeing and
hearing him to have been the happiest
day, the elimination of his life. The
strongest impression made was the
not manifest in anything obtrusiye, but
was a simple, solid, thorough go
ing satisfaction, apparent in every
feature and movement. he spoke with
good quality of voice, and with a clear,
distinct and deliberate articulation.
Standing before the large window he did
not seem as tall as he would elsewhere.
freedom, elasticity and force, and his
countenance beamed with cordiality, as if
he were speaking with old acquaintance,
all of which made him seem younger than
we had expected him to appear. A shrewd
intelligence as of one long accustomed to
read men, cleaned from his relaxed feat
ures and almost laughing eyes. AT the
same time there was quiet and unpreten-
tious air of self-reliance which was unmis-
taxable. One who had never before seen
or heard of the man would feel entirely as
sured from his five minutes appearance at
that time that he was no novice. He
spoke as follows:
my friends, / am informed that you
have assembled here this afternoon under
the impression that I had made an appoint
ment to speak at this time. There's mis-
take about it somewhere. l have made no
such appointm ent. More or less persons
have been gathering here at different times
during the day, and in the exuberance of
their feeling-and for all of which they are
greatly justified-calling upon me to say
something, and have from time to time
been sending out what | supposed was
proper, to disperse them for the present.
Laughter and applause, elected by the
genial and humorous twinkle of the eye,
and the good-natured manner with which
the above words were spoken.
II said to larger audience this morning
what l desire now to repeat. 1t is this:
That | supposed in consequence of the
glorious news we have been receiving
lately there is to be some general demon
stration either on this or tomorrow even
ing, when | will be expected, | presume, to
say something. Just here l will remark
that | would much prefer having this dem
onstration take place tomorrow evening, as
l would then be much better prepared to
say what have to say than | am now or
% no 4 nd
will then have heard from Johnston"
81 therefore say to you that | shall be
quite willing, and 1 hope ready, to say
something then, whereas Just now I am
not ready to say anything that one in my
position ought to say. Everything 1 say,
you know, goes into print. Laughter and
applause. If | make a mistake I voice:
"You haven't made any YETI it doesn't
merely hurt me, it hurts you and hurts the
country. | therefore ought at least to try
not to make mistakes. IT, then, general
demonstration be made tomorrow even
ing, and if it be agreeable, | will endeavor
to say something and not make a mistake,
without at least trying carefully to avoid
it. Laughter and applause. Thanking
you for the compliment of this call, 1 bid
you good-evening."
This brief address exhibits many of the
characteristics of the martyr President
which are now well known to the world.
His bow as be retired was free, elastic and
even graceful. There was more of the
Suave in his manner on this occasion than
the representations of him generally made
would imply. A stranger would have had
no doubt that he was a superior man in
respect to intelligence self-reliance and
force. He appeared as common man,
but of uncommon penetration and vlgOr of
mind and then and there conscious of hav-
ing done well and succeeded in his work.
no WI
spoke these well-remembered words to US
as we looked up from near the steps of the
White House thirty-seven days before had
uttered the immoral words: with malice
toward none; with charity for all" and
four days and half later were sealed in
death
On the next evening he read at the same
window, at a later hour, from a manu-
script. his last formal address, with which
the world is familiar. He wore glasses
while reading. Candles were held on both
sides, which tiared good deal. As he ap-
peared there was quite loud cheering,
which was continued for perhaps two min
utes. He glanced little nervously down
over his glasses as if awaiting the time
when they would be quiet enough for him
to read, one finger rubbing the under sur
face of his chin as he waited. His tones
were common reading tones, somewhat
monotonous. He spoke with little attempt
at oratorical manner or effect. At one
point he laid his finger upon his upper lip,
somewhat as boy might do reading his
composition at school. Mrs. Lincoln and
some other ladies stood at side window.
Some conversation was overheard while
the reading was going on, which seemed to
annoy the audience, elicitlng some I'M
complimentary expressions. 1 seem to
have faint shadow of recollection of i'll
ominous expressions, in undertone, in the
crowd near where 1 stood, indicative of re-
vengeful hate toward the reader, whose
words came down to us from the window
above. The reading ceased at length, and
there passed from public speech an orator
whose words will be remembered as long
as any spoken by man.
The Germans have lately been expert
menting upon the effect of copper on po-
tatn vines They found that 3 ner cent