Today is Abraham Lincoln’s birthday. He was born on February 12, 1809.

Years ago, my favorite president was Thomas Jefferson, but I think that preference was based almost entirely on his authorship of the Declaration of Independence, and very little on his presidency. Besides, almost everyone was in the Lincoln camp, and I didn’t wish to hop on a crowded bandwagon.

But the more I learned about Lincoln, the higher my opinion of him grew. Abraham Lincoln was not just the greatest president; he was the greatest American. But he was more, even, than that.

An eyewitness account of Lincoln’s February 27, 1860 speech at Cooper Union, from the New York Tribune:

He was tall, tall — oh, how tall, and so angular and awkward that I had, for an instant, a feeling of pity for so ungainly a man. His clothes were black and ill-fitting, badly wrinkled — as if they had been jammed carelessly into a small trunk. His bushy head, with the stiff black hair thrown back, was balanced on a long and lean stock, and when he raised his hands in an opening gesture I noticed that they were very large.

He began in a very low tone of voice as if he were used to speaking out of doors and was afraid of speaking too loud. He said, ‘Mr. Cheerman” instead of ‘Mr. Chairman,’ and employed many other words with an old-fashioned pronunciation. I said to myself: “Old fellow, you won’t do. It is all very well for the wild west, but this will never go down in New York.”

But pretty soon, he began to get into his subject: he straightened up and made regular and graceful gestures. His face lighted as with an inward fire; the whole man was transfigured. I forgot his clothes, his personal appearance, and his individual peculiarities. Presently, forgetting myself, I was on my feet with the rest, yelling like a wild Indian, cheering this wonderful man. In the close parts of his arguments, you could hear the gentle sizzing of the gas burners. When he reached a climax, the thunders of applause were terrific.

It was a great speech. When I came out of the hall, my face glowing with excitement and my frame all aquiver, a friend, with his eyes aglow, asked me what I thought of Abe Lincoln, the rail-splitter. I said, ‘He’s the greatest man since St. Paul!’ And I think so yet.

“The greatest man since St. Paul.” That seems about right.

I think this summer, I’ll make a pilgrimage to Springfield, Illinois, to walk in the footsteps of Abraham Lincoln, a secular saint and the greatest of great men.

This is not a joke:

Vice President Dick Cheney accidentally shot and injured a man during a weekend quail hunting trip in Texas, his spokeswoman said Sunday.

Harry Whittington, 78, was “alert and doing fine” after Cheney sprayed him with shotgun pellets on Saturday while the two were hunting at the Armstrong Ranch in south Texas, said property owner Katharine Armstrong.