that the cup of bitterness might pass from him. I am in the Garden
of Gethsemane now and my cup of bitterness is full and overflowing
now."(11)

"Like some strong seer in a trance,
Seeing all his own mischance,
With a glassy countenance,"

he faced toward Washington, toward the glorious terror promised him by
his superstitions.

The last days before the departure were days of mingled gloom,
desperation, and the attempt to recover hope. He visited his old
stepmother and made a pilgrimage to his father's grave. His thoughts
fondly renewed the details of his past life, lingered upon this and
that, as if fearful that it was all slipping away from him forever. And
then he roused himself as if in sudden revolt against the Fates. The day
before he left Springfield forever Lincoln met his partner for the
last time at their law office to wind up the last of their unsettled
business. "After those things were all disposed of," says Herndon, "he
crossed to the opposite side of the room and threw himself down on the
old office sofa. . . . He lay there for some moments his face to
the ceiling without either of us speaking. Presently, he inquired:
'Billy'--he always called me by that name--'how long have we been
together?' 'Over sixteen years,' I answered. 'We've never had a cross
word during all that time, have we?' . . . He gathered a bundle of
papers and books he wished to take with him and started to go, but
before leaving, he made the strange request that the sign board which
swung on its rusty hinges at the foot of the stairway would remain. 'Let
it hang there undisturbed,' he said, with a significant lowering of the