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in the dust.
He always stood squarely on his feet, toe even with toe; that is, he never put one foot before the other.
He neither touched nor leaned on anything for support.
He made but few changes in his positions and attitudes.
He never ranted, never walked backward and forward on the platform.
To ease his arms he frequently caught hold, with his left hand, of the lapel of his coat, keeping his thumb upright and leaving his right hand free to gesticulate.
The designer of the monument recently erected in Chicago has happily caught him in just this attitude.
As he proceeded with his speech the exercise of his vocal organs altered somewhat the tone of his voice.
It lost in a measure its former acute and shrilling pitch, and mellowed into a more harmonious and pleasant sound.
His form expanded, and, notwithstanding the sunken breast, he rose up a splendid and imposing figure.
In his defence of the Declaration of Independence--his greatest inspiration — he was “tremendous in the directness of his utterances; he rose to impassioned eloquence, unsurpassed by Patrick Henry, Mirabeau, or Vergniaud, as his soul was inspired with the thought of human right and Divine justice.”
1 His little gray eyes flashed in a face aglow with the fire of his profound thoughts; and his uneasy movements and diffident manner sunk themselves beneath the wave of righteous indignation that came sweeping over him. Such was Lincoln the orator.
1 Horace White, who was present and reported the speech for his paper, the Chicago Tribune. Letter, June 9, 1865, Ms.
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