He was earnestly urged to omit his Harrisburg appointment and take the eleven o’clock train from Philadelphia to Washington that night, but he peremptorily refused, and left the question to be determined at Harrisburg. He hoisted the flag on Independence Hall early on the morning of the 22d, and delivered an address that betrayed none of the serious emotions which must have agonized him at the time. He arrived at Harrisburg early in the afternoon, where I was one of the legislators to receive him, had a reception and delivered a brief address in the hall of the House, and soon after five o’clock he sat down to the dinner at the hotel as the guest of Governor Curtin, who was there advised by Colonel Lamon and Colonel Sumner of the information received in Philadelphia the night before, and of the necessity of considering the question of changing his route. Dinner was hastily served, when the servants were cleared from the dining-hall, and Governor Curtin stated the facts to the dining guests, and insisted that Lincoln’s programme should be changed. Every one present promptly responded in approval, and the only silent man at the table was Lincoln. I sat near enough to him to watch and study his face, and there was not a sign of agitation upon it, and when he was called upon to give his views, it was at once made evident to all that he thought much more of commanding the respect and honor of the nation than of preserving his life. His answer was substantially, and I think exactly, in these words: “I cannot consent. What would the nation think of its President stealing into its capital like a thief in the night?” His voice was clear and distinct, and his cool and earnest manner made his expression painfully pathetic.