break out, I am certain that it will be short. I shall write to Lincoln to-day to submit to him the outlines of a plan for the arming of the free States.
You see what matters I am brooding over most. I confess that often, while I am delivering a lecture, my thoughts wander to questions quite foreign to the subject of my discourse. That makes the “lecture business” repulsive to me. But what is the use? I must earn money and there is no way but to grind away at work. I want nothing more than to be in Washington, if only for a few days, but that's impossible.
The owners of the Atlantic Monthly sent for me the other day. I went to see them and they requested me to write for their magazine, at the rate of five dollars to eight dollars per page. That will be a good thing when I am finally able to work quietly again. . . . They advised me not to publish my speeches, for there is no sale for books at present.
Sringfield, Feb. 10, 1861 (evening).
I have just left Lincoln with whom I spent the whole afternoon and a part of the evening. We canvassed everything that was of common interest and were mutually very cordial. Suddenly bringing our conversation to a halt, he said: “I will give you a mark of confidence which I have given no other man.” Then he locked the door and read to me the draft of his inaugural address. After we had discussed it point by point, he said: “Now you know better than any man in this country how I stand, and you may be sure that I shall never betray my principles and my friends.” (Don't mention this reading of the inaugural.) As I was leaving him after this long conversation, in which he explained his opinions and plans with the greatest frankness, I told him that I should
