Among the visitors, the same afternoon, were William Lloyd Garrison and Theodore Tilton. In the “Editorial Notes,” concerning the convention and nominations, in his newspaper, the New York “Independent,” the following week, Mr. Tilton wrote:-- “On his reception day, the President’s face wore an expression of satisfaction rather than elation. His reception of Mr. Garrison was an equal honor to host and guest. In alluding to our failure to find the old jail, he said,--‘Well, Mr. Garrison, when you first went to Baltimore you couldn’t get _out_; but the second time you couldn’t get _in_!’ When one of us mentioned the great enthusiasm at the convention, after Senator Morgan’s proposition to amend the Constitution, abolishing slavery, Mr. Lincoln instantly said,--‘It was I who suggested to Mr. Morgan that he should put that idea into his opening speech.’ This was the very best word he has said since the proclamation of freedom.” LII. I have alluded, on a previous page, to the public concerts of the Marine Band,--from the Washington Navy-yard,--given every Saturday afternoon, during the summer, on the grounds in front of the White House; which, on such occasions, were thronged with visitors. The Saturday following the nominations I invited my friend Cropsey, the landscape-painter, from New York,--who, with his wife, was spending a few days in the city,--to come up with Mrs. C. to the studio, which overlooked the pleasure-grounds, and presented a fine opportunity of enjoying both spectacle and music. The invitation was accepted, and the afternoon was devoted to my guests. Towards the close of the concert the door suddenly opened, and the President came in, as he was in the habit of doing, alone. Mr. and Mrs. Cropsey had been presented to him in the course of the morning; and as he came forward, half hesitatingly, Mrs. C., who held a bunch of beautiful flowers in her hand, tripped forward playfully, and said: “Allow me, Mr. President, to present you with a bouquet!” The situation was momentarily embarrassing; and I was puzzled to know how “His Excellency” would get out of it. With no appearance of discomposure, he stooped down, took the flowers, and, looking from them into the sparkling eyes and radiant face of the lady, said, with a gallantry I was unprepared for,--“Really, madam, if you give them to _me_, and they are _mine_, I think I cannot possibly make so good a _use_ of them as to present them to _you_, in return!” Chesterfield could not have extricated himself from the dilemma with more tact and address; and the incident, trifling in itself, may serve to illustrate that there existed in the _ci-devant_ “rail-splitter” and “flat-boatman”--uncouth and half-civilized as many supposed him--the essential elements of the true gentleman.