The morning that Abraham Lincoln left his home in Springfield never to return is not to be forgotten. It was early on the morning of the eleventh of February, dark and gloomy, with a light snow falling. There was a large crowd of his neighbors and friends at the station to bid him good-bye. He held a sort of impromptu reception in the little railroad station. There was no noisy demonstration. As I recollect it now, it was a solemn leave-taking. Just before the train pulled out, Mr. Lincoln appeared on the rear platform of his car. Every head was bared, as if to receive a benediction, as he uttered his farewell address:
"My Friends: No one not in my situation can appreciate my feeling of sadness at this parting. To this place, and the kindness of these people, I owe everything. Here I have lived a quarter of a century, and have passed from a young to an old man. Here my children have been born and one is buried. I now leave, not knowing when or whether ever I may return, with a task before me greater than that which rested upon Washington. Without the assistance of that Divine Being who ever attended him, I cannot succeed; with that assistance, I cannot fail. Trusting in Him, who can go with me, and remain with you, and be everywhere for good, let us confidently hope that all will yet be well. To His care commending you, as I hope in your prayers you will commend me, I bid you an affectionate farewell."
I was not present at the first inauguration of President Lincoln, but I visited Washington many times during the years that he was President, and, knowing him as well as I did, and having known both Nicolay and Hay, his secretaries, in Springfield, I naturally spent much time around the executive offices. I had many conversations with him during the early years of the war. He had no military education, but he soon demonstrated that he was in fact the real commander-in-chief. He liked General McClellan, and stuck to him until McClellan had demonstrated his absolute inefficiency for command. McClellan was a great organizer. He made the Army of the Potomac the most perfect fighting machine, I might almost say, that was ever known in military history. But there he stopped. He could organize, but he could not and did not, despite the urging and the anxiety of Mr. Lincoln, push forward his army to victory. I knew something of Mr. Lincoln's anxiety at the failure of McClellan to inaugurate an aggressive campaign.