I had calculated to act noble on that occasion, as I appeared before him who stood in the large, lofty shoes of the revered G. W., and sot in the chair of the (nearly) angel Garfield. I had thought that likely as not, entirely unbeknown to me, I should soar right off into a eloquent oration. For I honored him as a President. I felt like neighborin' with him on account of his name—Allen! (That name I took at the alter of Jonesville, and pure love.)
But how little can we calculate on future contingencies, or what we shall do when we get there! As I stood before him, I only said what I had said before on a similar occasion, these simple words, that yet mean so much, so much,—
“Allen, I have come!”
He, too, was overcome by his feelin's: I see he wuz. His face looked fairly solemn; but, as he is a perfect gentleman, he controlled himself, and said quietly these words, that, too, have a deep import,—
“I see you have.”
He then shook hands with me, and I with him. I, too, am a perfect lady. And then he drawed up a chair for me with his own hands (hands that grip holt of the same hellum that G. W. had gripped holt of. O soul! be calm when I think ont), and asked me to set down; and consequently I sot.
I leaned my umberell in a easy, careless position against a adjacent chair, adjusted my green veil in long, graceful folds,—I hain't vain, but I like to look well,—and then I at once told him of my errents. I told him—
“I had brought three errents to him from Jonesville,—one for myself, and two for Dorlesky Burpy.”