Thirty days after the assassination of Mr. Lincoln, the Baptist Missionary Societies of the North held, by urgent invitation, their May Meetings in our city. This had been made possible by the war. The churches of this great denomination had long been divided by slavery; but now the delegates from the churches of the North came to hold out the olive branch to their brethren of the South on what had been slave soil. They came by hundreds. The city gave them a royal welcome. Christians of all denominations threw open their doors to them and lavished upon them their hospitality. It was an era of good feeling. Denominationalism and the irritating questions of the war decidedly fell into the background. But there was another side to the picture. Southern Baptists, except from the national capital, did not come to us. The olive branch seemed to be held out in vain. The brotherly act was even misconstrued. The coming of these Northern missionary societies to our city was regarded as an unwarrantable invasion of Southern soil. Forty years had to pass away, a generation had to die in the wilderness, before, in St. Louis, during the progress of the May Meetings of the same societies, Northern and Southern Baptists, standing face to face, truly fraternized with each other and sang heartily: “Blest be the tie that binds Our hearts in Christian love.” There was one unique incident at the meetings in 1865, that deserves special notice. The name of the martyred President was on all lips. Men were just beginning to understand and appreciate something of his greatness, both of mind and heart. It was whispered in the ears of our guests that an artist of our city, A. J. Conant, had painted, from sittings, a portrait of Mr. Lincoln. He was invited to unveil this portrait before the assembled delegates. He did so. A great and distinguished company greeted it with enthusiasm and cheers; and were specially delighted to hear the artist’s account of what the great President did and said while he kindly sat for his portrait,—what quaint and suggestive stories he told. The portrait was painted before Mr. Lincoln’s first inauguration. His face was then smooth shaven. He had not yet covered up with scraggly whiskers the rugged outlines of his lower jaw, which, from a side view, as some one has said, was shaped like the keel of a three-masted schooner.[114] It is doubtful if any one has produced a better portrait of that strong face with its undertone of sadness.