I could not help thinking, my friends, as I traveled in the rain through your crowded streets, on my way here, that if all that people were in favor of the Union, it can certainly be in no great danger-it will be preserved. (A voice-“We are all Union men.” Another voice-“That’s so.” A third voice-“No compromise.” A fourth-“Three cheers for the Union.”) But I am talking too long, longer than I ought. (“Oh no! Go on; split another rail.” Laughter.) You know that it has not been my custom, since I started on the route to Washington to make long speeches; I am rather inclined to silence, (“That’s right”) and whether that be wise or not, it is at least more unusual now-a-days to find a man who can hold his tongue than to find one who cannot. (Laughter and a voice-“No railery Abe.”) I thank you sincerely, for the warm reception I have received, and in the morning if an arrangement can be made, of which I am not yet certain, I may have something to say to you of that “peculiar interest of Pennsylvania” before mentioned. (“Say it now, we are all attention.”) Well my friends, as it is not much I have to say, I will utter it now, if you will permit me to secure a few notes that are in my overcoat pocket. (Certainly we will,” and cheers.)

Mayor Wilson and citizens of Pennsylvania: I most cordially thank his honor Mayor Wilson, and the citizens of Pittsburgh generally for the flattering reception. It is more grateful, because I know that, while it is not given to me alone, but to the cause which I represent, yet it is given under circumstances which clearly prove to me that there is good will and sincere feeling at the bottom of it.

And here, fellow citizens, I may remark that in every short address I have made to the people, and in every crowd through which I have passed of late, some allusion has been made to the present distracted condition of the country. It is naturally expected that I should say something upon this subject, but to touch upon it would involve an elaborate discussion of a great many questions and circumstances, would require more time than I can at present command, and would unnecessarily commit me on matters which have not yet fully developed themselves. (Immense cheering and cries of “good!” “that’s right.)

The condition of the country, fellow citizens, is an extraordinary one, and fills the mind of every patriot with anxiety and solicitude. My intention is to give this subject all the consideration which I possibly can before I speak fully and definitely in regard to it-so that, when I do speak, I may be as nearly right as possible. And when I do speak, fellow citizens, I hope to say nothing in opposition to the spirit of the Constitution, contrary to the integrity of the Union, or which will in any way prove inimical to the liberties of the people or to the peace of the whole country. And, furthermore, when the time arrives for me to speak on this great subject, I hope to say nothing which will disappoint the reasonable expectations of any man, or hope to disappoint the people generally throughout the country, especially if their expectations have been based upon anything which I may have heretofore said.

Notwithstanding the troubles across the river, (the speaker pointing southwardly and smiling) there is no real crisis, springing from anything in the government itself. In plain words, there is really no crisis except an artificial one! What is there now to warrant the condition of affairs presented by our friends “over the river”? Take even their own view of the question involved, and there is nothing to justify the course which they are pursuing. I repeat it, then-there is no crisis excepting such a one as may be gotten up at any time by designing politicians. My advice, then under such circumstances, is to keep cool. If the great American people will only keep their temper, on both sides of the line, the troubles will come to an end, and the question which now distracts the country will be settled just as surely as all other difficulties of like character which have originated in this government have been adjusted. Let the people on both sides keep their self-possession, and just as other clouds have cleared away in due time, so will this, and this great nation will continue to prosper as heretofore. But, fellow citizens, I have spoken longer on this subject than I had intended to at the outset-and I shall say no more at present.

Fellow citizens, as this is the first opportunity which I have had to address a Pennsylvania assemblage, it seems a fitting time to indulge in a few remarks upon the important question of a tariff-a subject of great magnitude, and one which is attended with many difficulties, owing to the great variety of interests which it involves. So long as direct taxation for the support of the government is not resorted to, a tariff is necessary. The tariff is to the government what a meal is to the family; but, while this is admitted, it still becomes necessary to modify and change its operations according to new interests and new circumstances. So far, there is little difference of opinion among politicians, but the question as to how far the imposts may be adjusted for the protection of home industry, gives rise to various views and objections. I must confess that I do no understand this subject in all its multiform bearings, but I promise you that I will give it my closest attention, and endeavor to comprehend it more fully. And here I may remark that the Chicago platform contains a plank upon this subject, which I think should be regarded as law for the incoming administration. In fact, this question, as well as all other subjects embodied in the platform, should not be varied from what we gave the people to understand would be our policy when we obtained their votes.

Lincoln was cautious about committing to particulars about any tariff question. In spite of the fact that Western Pennsylvanians considered this issue as extremely important and there was tremendous anxiety about the state of the union, Lincoln urged the people to “keep cool.” As for the tariff, he saw it as necessary since most government revenues were derived from a tax on imported goods, but he noted that from time to time it was necessary to review and modify the existing laws. He stated, “I must confess that I do not understand this subject in all its multiform bearings, but I promise you that I will give it my closest attention, and endeavor to comprehend it more fully.” Lincoln also repeated a portion of his Chicago speech in which he noted “so when the time for action arrives adequate protection can be extended to the coal and iron of Pennsylvania, the corn of Illinois, and the reapers of Chicago.” While his secretaries, Nicolay and Hay, make no mention of this remark calling for protection of Pennsylvania coal and iron, Illinois wheat, and Chicago reapers, several newspapers, including the Pittsburgh Dispatch, Cincinnati Gazette, the Cleveland Daily Plain Dealer, Cleveland Morning Leader and Philadelphia Inquirer, all quoted the passage. Two other newspapers, the Pittsburgh Post and the Pittsburgh Evening Chronicle, substituted the words “the corn of Indiana” for Illinois, but they also included this important passage. This would indicate that Lincoln changed his prepared texts to appeal to the crowds.

In his February 11, 1928, column for the Gazette Times, George T. Fleming repeated an often-told human-interest story of a young lad’s chance meeting with the president-elect. According to the Fleming account, the story of John F. Goucher was first printed in the Methodist, February 6, 1919, and reprinted in the Western Pennsylvania Historical Magazine, January 1921.

Lincoln passed through Pittsburgh and stayed at the Monongahela House on his way to Washington for his first inauguration. Of course all the boys in the town vied with each other as to who could get nearest the President-elect. I was just a little fellow at the time, frail and delicate, and the youngest of three boys. My older brothers got permission of my father at the breakfast table to go up to the hotel and see if they could get a glimpse of Mr. Lincoln.

Of course, when I knew they were going I had to go, too, but they would not let me. My eldest brother said I was too little and might get trampled by the crowd. My father just smiled and did not say anything. I knew by his smile that he intended taking me himself. But I did not want to go with him. He was a leisurely gentleman of the old school and I was afraid that I wouldn’t see anything. So I persuaded him to let me go alone.

When I got to the hotel there was a big crowd around it. The Mayor and the city councilmen were marching in to pay their respects to the President-elect. That was what I had come for and I didn’t see any reason why I shouldn’t pay my respects when they did. As we were marching in, the councilman ahead of me turned around and looked at the little child in back, but as I seemed perfectly unconcerned I supposed he thought I belonged to the man in back of me. The man in back was probably placing me with the man in front. Anyway no one stopped me. I followed the procession into the private parlor of the President-elect, where he received them, and listened to the Mayor’s speech. I caught a few words of his reply, saw him shake hands with a number of the men and then with a farewell smile for his guests he retired into an inner room. The councilmen filed out. As I had come in with them I thought it was best to go in with them but first I, wanted to get a nearer view of that wonderful man, whose kindly smile had thrilled me, child as I was.

I stepped to the door of his inner room. Lincoln’s life had been attempted several times and probably with his nerves keyed to an emergency the President turned around. When he had been speaking to the councilmen Lincoln’s face had been all smiles; those wonderful eyes of his lighted with an inner glow. I was only a child but something gripped my heart as I caught sight of his face when he thought he was alone.

I had never seen such ineffable sadness on the face of any human being. All of the sorrows of the world were reflected in his kind eyes. Seeing a child his face softened marvelously.

I stuck out my hand as I had seen the councilmen do and said as I had heard them say: “It is a great pleasure to shake hands with you, Mr. President.”

His smile was like benevolent sunshine. He took my hand with both his big, warm ones, and looking down into my face said, “God bless you, my son; love God; obey your parents; serve your country; and the world will never forget you.”

I never saw him again, not until I was a student in Harrisburg (Carlisle?). It was after his assassination and his body lay in state in the old State Capitol. It was then I saw him for the second time. I saw the tired, lined face; the eyes closed as if in sleep and the bullet wound in his head, and I thought of to look of weary sadness that I had once noticed on his face and of the glorifying smile that followed it.

Instead of speaking for fifteen minutes, Lincoln’s address lasted twice as long. Large crowds of enthusiastic supporters lined the route between the hotel and the train station. The train departed for Ohio where Lincoln spent two days before returning to Pennsylvania, where he visited Erie.

Unfortunately the next time that Lincoln traveled through Western Pennsylvania was when his funeral car returned the slain president’s body to Illinois.