“He entered my studio on Sunday morning, remarking that a friend at the hotel (Tremont House) had invited him to go to church, ‘but,’ said Mr. Lincoln, ‘I thought I’d rather come and sit for the bust.  The fact is,’ he continued, ’I don’t like to hear cut-and-dried sermons.  No—­when I hear a man preach, I like to see him act as if he were fighting bees!’ And he extended his long arms, at the same time suiting the action to the words.  He gave me on this day a long sitting of more than four hours, and when it was concluded we went to our family apartment to look at a collection of photographs which I had made in 1855-6-7 in Rome and Florence.  While sitting in the rocking-chair, he took my little son on his lap and spoke kindly to him, asking his name, age, etc.  I held the photographs up and explained them to him; but I noticed a growing weariness, and his eyelids closed occasionally as if he were sleepy, or were thinking of something besides Grecian and Roman statuary and architecture.  Finally he said, ’These things must be very interesting to you, Mr. Volk; but the truth is, I don’t know much of history, and all I do know of it I have learned from law books.’

“The sittings were continued daily till the Thursday following; and during their continuance he would talk almost unceasingly, telling some of the funniest and most laughable of stories, but he talked little of politics or religion during these sittings.  He said, ’I am bored nearly every time I sit down to a public dining-table by some one pitching into me on politics.’  Many people, presumably political aspirants with an eye to future prospects, besieged my door for interviews, but I made it a rule to keep it locked, and I think Mr. Lincoln appreciated the precaution.  On our last sitting I noticed that Mr. Lincoln was in something of a hurry.  I had finished the head, but desired to represent his breast and brawny shoulders as nature presented them; so he stripped off his coat, waistcoat, shirt, cravat, and collar, threw them on a chair, pulled his undershirt down a short distance, tying the sleeves behind him, and stood up without a murmur for an hour or so.  I then said I had done, and was a thousand times obliged to him for his promptness and patience, and offered to assist him to re-dress, but he said, ’No, I can do it better alone.’  I kept at my work without looking toward him, wishing to catch the form as accurately as possible while it was fresh in my memory.  He left hurriedly, saying he had an engagement, and with a cordial ‘Good-bye!  I will see you again soon,’ passed out.  A few minutes after, I recognized his steps rapidly returning.  The door opened and in he came, exclaiming, ’Hello, Mr. Volk!  I got down on the sidewalk, and found I had forgotten to put on my undershirt, and thought it wouldn’t do to go through the streets this way.’  Sure enough, there were the sleeves of that garment dangling below the skirts of his broadcloth frock-coat!  I went at once to his assistance, and helped to undress and re-dress him all right, and out he went with a hearty laugh at the absurdity of the thing.”