Correspondence of the Louisville Democrat
Letter from Illinois
CHICAGO, Nov. 18, 1858
As the great, though little, Douglas was stopping at the Tremont House, (a hotel, by the way, where may be found all the luxuries of oriental life,) only a few persons had the supreme honor of joining hands with the " favorite son, " and your worthy correspondent among the number. He appeared in good health, (not your worthy correspondent,) quietly smoking a weed, and occasionally indulging in a chat with any and every one who chose to converse. Perhaps you have never seen him—well S. A. Douglas is a man standing five feet two or three, with a head big enough for six feet two, and a forehead prominent and intellectual enough for any man of any nation. His hair, which was once brown, is thin and gray; his eye cool and gray; his nose not prominent, but striking; his mouth large and firm. His whole face is round, and seems too large even for such broad shoulders as support it.
Small as he is, you would choose him out of a crowd, for a splendid model of intellectual cultivation. He is only small in body—his head is a miracle of mind. But I am digressing, and becoming tiresome. After listening to the disconnected sentences from a few loquacious, petty politicians the great event of the evening was heralded with a hundred guns; a thousand torches lit the streets; a million jets of light made the city more like day than night, and all the available male population of this Western New York, promenaded the streets, engrossed with the all-absorbing question "Shall Stephen be the next Presidents?” M.