The coming presidential election, in his opinion, could be a dangerous business. Whatever the Chicago Tribune might say, he thought it unlikely that Lincoln would be the Republican candidate. Others surely had stronger claims. But he was quite curious, nonetheless, to take a look at this Lincoln fellow, and see what he was like.

The huge, dark red mass of the Cooper Institute occupied a triangular site between Third Avenue and Astor Place. Frank had always admired its founder, Peter Cooper, a self-taught industrialist who’d built America’s first railroad steam engine before founding this splendid college to provide free night classes for working men and day classes for women. The most impressive part of the place, in Frank’s opinion, was the Great Hall. It was only last year that he’d come there for the Cooper Institute’s official opening, but already the Great Hall had become one of the most popular places for holding meetings in the city.

They arrived in good time, and it was as well that they did, for the hall was rapidly filling. Glancing about, Frank made a quick estimate, and remarked to Hetty: “Your man can certainly draw a crowd. There’ll be fifteen hundred people here tonight.”

The minutes passed, and Hetty seemed quite happy to look around at the crowd. Here and there she saw people she knew. Frank contented himself with calling to mind as many items as he could from the reports of the Lincoln-Douglas debates. After a while, he could not resist bringing up one of them.

“Your Mr. Lincoln believes in freedom and equality for the black man, doesn’t he, Hetty?”

“He certainly does.”

“Yet in the Illinois debates, I distinctly remember, he said that on no account would he give the black man the vote or allow him to serve on a jury. What do you think of that?”

Hetty looked at him steadily. “I think that’s very simple, dear. If he said anything else, he could never get elected.”

Frank was just about to point out that she seemed happy to make moral compromises if it suited her, when a movement at the side of the stage signaled that the proceedings were about to begin.

The gentleman who introduced the speaker did not take long about his business. Some brief, polite words about the distinguished speaker, the hope that they would accord him a good welcome, and find interest in what he was to say, and the introduction was done. He turned to bid the speaker come forward. And Abraham Lincoln appeared.

“Good God,” muttered Frank, and stared.

He’d seen one or two pictures of the man in the newspapers, and assumed they were unflattering. But nothing had quite prepared him for the shock of seeing Lincoln for the first time in the flesh.