"Come to my room, and sing to me the song privately. I want to hear you sing it."
So he listened to it in private, while it was being borne over the prairies on tens of thousands of lips. Did he then dream that the nations would one day sing the song of his achievements, that his death would be tolled by the bells of all lands, and his dirge fill the churches of Christendom with tears? It may have been that his destiny in dim outline rose before him, for the events of his life were hurrying.
Aunt Indiana was there, and she found the Tunker.
"The land o' sakes and daisies!" she said. "That we should both be here! Well, elder, I give it up! I was agin Lincoln until I heard all the people a-singin' that song; then it came over me that I was doin' just what I hadn't ought to, and I began to sing 'Old Lincoln is the man!' just as though it had been a Methody hymn written by Wesley himself."
"I am glad that you have changed your mind, and that I have lived to see my prophecy, that Lincoln would become the heart of the people, fulfilled."
"Elder, I tell you what let's we do."
"What, my good woman?"
"Let's we each get a rail, and go down before Abe's winder, and I'll sing as loud as anybody:
"'Old Abram is the man!
Old Abram is the man!
And he'll trim her sails
As he split the rails.
Old Abram is the man!'
I'll do it, if you will. I've been all wrong from the first. Why, even the Grigsbys are goin' to vote for him, and I'm goin' to do the right thing myself. Abe always had a human heart, and it is that which is the most human that leads off in this world."