Part 3

“Yes,” replied Lincoln, fully aroused, “there is no doubt but that I can gain the case for you, and set a whole neighborhood at loggerhead. I can distress a widowed mother and her six fatherless children, and thereby get for you six hundred dollars, which rightly belongs as much to the woman and her children as it does to you; but I won’t do it.”

“Not for any amount of pay?” continued the stranger.

“Not for all you are worth,” replied Lincoln. “You must remember that some things which are legally right are not morally right. I shall not take your case.”

“I don’t care a snap whether you do or not!” exclaimed the man angrily, starting to go.

“I will give you a piece of advice without charge,” added Lincoln. “You seem to be a sprightly, energetic man; I would advise you to make six hundred dollars some other way.”

LINCOLN’S CONSCIENTIOUSNESS IN TAKING CASES.

Even as early as 1852 Lincoln had acquired a reputation for story telling. When not busy during the session of the court he was “habitually whispering stories to his neighbors, frequently to the annoyance of Judge Davis, who presided over the Eighth circuit.” If Lincoln persisted too long the judge would rap on the chair and exclaim: “Come, come, Mr. Lincoln; I can’t stand this! There is no use trying to carry on two courts. I must adjourn mine or yours, and I think you will have to be the one.” As soon as the group had scattered the judge would call one of the men to him and ask: “What was that Lincoln was telling?”

In his law practice Lincoln seems to have been singularly conscientious, his first effort being to try to arrange matters so as to avoid litigation. Nor would he assume a case that he felt was not founded upon right and justice.

THE JURY UNDERSTOOD.

Another one of these anecdotes is related in connection with a case involving a bodily attack. Mr. Lincoln defended, and told the jury that his client was in the fix of a man who, in going along the highway with a pitchfork over his shoulder, was attacked by a fierce dog that ran out at him from a farmer’s door-yard. In parrying off the brute with the fork its prongs stuck into him and killed him.

“What made you kill my dog?” said the farmer.

“What made him bite me?”

“But why did you not go after him with the other end of the pitchfork?”

“Why did he not come at me with his other end?” At this Mr. Lincoln whirled about in his long arms an imaginary dog and pushed his tail end towards the jury. This was the defensive plea of “Son assault demesne”--loosely, that “The other fellow brought on the fight”--quickly told and in a way the dullest mind would grasp and retain.

LINCOLN’S HONESTY WITH A LADY CLIENT.

A lady who had a real estate claim which she desired prosecuted once called on Lincoln and wished him to take up her case. She left the claim in his hands, together with a check for two hundred dollars as a retaining fee. Lincoln told her to call the next day, and meanwhile he would examine her claim.

Upon presenting herself the next day the lady was informed that he had examined the case carefully, and told her frankly that she had no valid or legal grounds on which to base her claim. He therefore could not advise her to institute legal proceedings. The lady was satisfied, and thanking him, rose to leave.

“Wait,” said Lincoln, at the same time fumbling in his vest pocket, “here is the check you left with me.”

“But, Mr. Lincoln, I think you have earned that,” replied the lady.

“No, no,” he responded, handing it back to her, “that would not be right. I can’t take pay for doing my duty.”--From Lincoln’s Stories, by J. B. McClure.

LINCOLN WINS A CELEBRATED CASE.

The son of Lincoln’s old friend and former employer, who had loaned him books, was charged with a murder committed in a riot at a camp-meeting. Lincoln volunteered for the defense.

A witness swore that he saw the prisoner strike the fatal blow. It was night, but he swore that the full moon was shining clear, and he saw everything distinctly. The case seemed hopeless, but Lincoln produced an almanac, and showed that at that hour there was no moon. “Then he depicted the crime of perjury with such eloquence that the false witness fled the court house.”

One who heard the trial says: “It was near night when Lincoln concluded, saying, ‘If justice was done, before the sun set it would shine upon his client a free man.’”

The court charged the jury; they returned and brought in a verdict of “not guilty.” The prisoner fell into his weeping mother’s arms, says the writer, and then turned to thank Lincoln. The latter, looking out at the sun, said: “It is not yet sundown, and you are free.”--From Lincoln’s Stories, by J. B. McClure.

LINCOLN’S “SELFISHNESS.”

Mr. Lincoln once remarked to a fellow-passenger on the old-time mud-wagon coach, on the corduroy road which antedated railroads, that all men were prompted by selfishness in doing good or evil. His fellow-passenger was antagonizing his position when they were passing over a corduroy bridge that spanned a slough. As they crossed this bridge, and the mud-wagon was shaking like a sucker with chills, they espied an old, razor-back sow on the bank of the slough, making a terrible noise because her pigs had got into the slough and were unable to get out and in danger of drowning. As the old coach began to climb the hillside Mr. Lincoln called out: “Driver, can’t you stop just a moment?” The driver replied. “If the other feller don’t object.” The “other feller”--who was no less a personage than, at that time, “Col.” E. D. Baker, the gallant general who gave his life in defense of old glory at Ball’s Bluff--did not “object,” when Mr. Lincoln jumped out, ran back to the slough and began to lift the little pigs out of the mud and water and place them on the bank. When he returned Col. Baker remarked: “Now, Abe, where does selfishness come in in this little episode?” “Why, bless your soul, Ed, that was the very essence of selfishness. I would have had no peace of mind all day had I gone on and left that suffering old sow worrying over those pigs. I did it to get peace of mind, don’t you see?”

LINCOLN REMOVES A LICENSE ON THEATRES.

One of the most interesting anecdotes about the beloved Lincoln is the one quoted from Joe Jefferson’s autobiography. Jefferson and his father were playing at Springfield during the session of the legislature, and, as there was no theaters in town, had gone to the expense of building one. Hardly had this been done when a religious revival broke out. The church people condemned the theater and prevailed upon the authorities to impose a license which was practically prohibition.

“In the midst of our trouble,” says Jefferson, “a young lawyer called on the managers. He had heard of the injustice and offered, if they would place the matter in his hands, to have the license taken off, men then in vogue he remarked how much declaring that he only desired to see fair play, and he would accept no fee whether he failed or succeeded. The young lawyer began his harangue. He handled the subject with tact, skill and humor, tracing the history of the drama from the time when Thespis acted in a cart to the stage of to-day. He illustrated his speech with a number of anecdotes and kept the council in a roar of laughter. His good humor prevailed and the exorbitant tax was taken off. The young lawyer was Lincoln.”

HOW LINCOLN GOT THE WORST OF A HORSE TRADE.

Abraham Lincoln was fond of a good story, and it is a well-known fact that he often illustrated an important point in the business at hand by resorting to his favorite pastime. Probably one of the best he ever told he related of himself when he was a lawyer in Illinois. One day Lincoln and a certain judge, who was an intimate friend of his, were bantering each other about horses, a favorite topic of theirs. Finally Lincoln said:

“Well, look here. Judge, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll make a horse trade with you, only it must be upon these stipulations: Neither party shall see the other’s horse until it is produced here in the court yard of the hotel, and both parties must trade horses. If either party backs out of the agreement, he does so under a forfeiture of $25.”

“Agreed,” cried the judge, and both he and Lincoln went in quest of their respective animals.

A crowd gathered, anticipating some fun, and when the judge returned first, the laugh was uproarious. He led, or rather dragged, at the end of a halter the meanest, boniest, rib-staring quadruped--blind in both eyes--that ever pressed turf. But presently Lincoln came along carrying over his shoulder a carpenter’s horse. Then the mirth of the crowd was furious. Lincoln solemnly set his horse down, and silently surveyed the judge’s animal with a comical look of infinite disgust.

“Well, Judge,” he finally said, “this is the first time I ever got the worst of it in a horse trade.”

LINCOLN HELPED HIM TO WIN.

His first case at the bar will never be forgotten by ex-Senator John C. S. Blackburn, of Kentucky, for Abraham Lincoln played a conspicuous part in helping the young Kentuckian to win his suit. Lincoln was merely an attorney, waiting for one of his cases to be called, when the incident occurred.

Ex-Senator Blackburn was but 20 years old when he began the practice of law, having graduated at Center College, Danville, Ky. His first case was in the United States court in Chicago, presided over by Justice John McLean, then on the circuit, says the Chicago Times-Herald. The opposing counsel was Isaac N. Arnold, then at the head of the Chicago bar, and subsequently a member of congress and author of the first biography of Lincoln. Young Blackburn had filed a demurrer to Mr. Arnold’s pleadings in the cause, and when the case was reached on the calendar the young Kentuckian was quite nervous at having such a formidable and experienced antagonist, while the dignity of the tribunal and the presence of a large number of eminent lawyers in court served to increase his timidity and embarrassment. In truth, the stripling barrister was willing to have any disposition made of the cause, in order to get rid of the burden of embarrassment and “stage fright.” He was ready to adopt any suggestion the opposing counsel should make.

Arnold made an argument in which he criticized the demurrer in a manner that increased the young lawyer’s confusion. However, Blackburn knew that he had to make some kind of an effort. He proceeded with a few remarks, weak and bewildering, and was about to sit down when a tall, homely, loose-jointed man sitting in the bar arose and addressed the court in behalf of the position the young Kentuckian had assumed in a feeble and tangled argument, making the points so clear that the court sustained the demurrer.

Blackburn did not know who his volunteer friend was, and Mr. Arnold got up and sought to rebuke the latter for attempting to interfere in the case, which he had nothing to do with. This volunteer was none other than Abraham Lincoln, and this was the first and last time the Kentuckian ever saw the “rail-splitting President.” In replying to Mr. Arnold’s strictures, Mr. Lincoln said he claimed the privilege of giving a young lawyer a helping hand when struggling with his first case, especially when he was pitted against an experienced practitioner.

LINCOLN SETTLES A QUARREL WITHOUT GOING TO LAW.

When Abe Lincoln used to be drifting around the country practicing law in Fulton and Menard counties, Illinois, an old fellow met him going to Lewistown, riding a horse which, while it was a serviceable enough an animal, was not of the kind to be truthfully called a fine saddler. It was a weather-beaten nag, patient and plodding and it toiled along with Abe--and Abe’s books, tucked away in saddle-bags, lay heavy on the horse’s flank.

“Hello, Uncle Tommy,” said Abe. “Hello, Abe,” responded Uncle Tommy. “I’m powerful glad to see ye, Abe, fer I’m gwyne to have sumthin’ fer ye at Lewiston cot, I reckon.”

“How’s that, Uncle Tommy?” said Abe.

“Well, Jim Adams, his land runs long o’ mine, he’s pesterin’ me a heap an’ I got to get the law on Jim, I reckon.”

“Uncle Tommy, you haven’t had any fights with Jim, have you?”

“No.”

“He’s a fair to middling neighbor, isn’t he?”

“Only tollable, Abe.”

“He’s been a neighbor of yours for a long time, hasn’t he?”

“Nigh on to fifteen year.”

“Part of the time you get along all right, don’t you?”

“I reckon we do, Abe.”

“Well, now, Uncle Tommy, you see this horse of mine? He isn’t as good a horse as I could straddle, and I sometimes get out of patience with him, but I know his faults. He does fairly well as horses go, and it might take me a long time to get used to some other horse’s faults. For all horses have faults. You and Uncle Jimmy must put up with each other as I and my horse do with one another.”

“I reckon, Abe,” said Uncle Tommy, as he bit off about four ounces of Missouri plug. “I reckon you’re about right.”

And Abe Lincoln, with a smile on his gaunt face, rode on toward Lewistown.

A LINCOLN STORY ABOUT LITTLE DAN WEBSTER’S SOILED HANDS.

Mr. Lincoln, on one occasion narrated to Hon. Mr. Odell and others, with much zest, the following story about young Daniel Webster:

When quite young, at school, Daniel was one day guilty of a gross violation of the rules. He was detected in the act, and called up by the teacher for punishment. This was to be the old-fashioned “feruling” of the hand. His hands happened to be very dirty. Knowing this, on his way to the teacher’s desk, he spit upon the palm of his right hand, wiping it off upon the side of his pantaloons.

“Give me your hand, sir,” said the teacher, very sternly.

Out went the right hand, partly cleaned. The teacher looked at it a moment and said:

“Daniel! if you will find another hand in this school-room as filthy as that, I will let you off this time!”

Instantly from behind his back came the left hand. “Here it is, sir,” was the ready reply.

“That will do,” said the teacher, “for this time; you can take your seat, sir.”--From Lincoln’s Stories, by J. B. McClure.

LINCOLN’S LONG LIMBS DRIVE A MAN OUT OF HIS BERTH.

There was one story of his career that the late George M. Pullman told with manifest delight, which is thus related by an intimate friend.

One night going out of Chicago, a long, lean, ugly man, with a wart on his cheek, came into the depot. He paid George M. Pullman 50 cents, and half a berth was assigned him. Then he took off his coat and vest and hung them up, and they fitted the peg about as well as they fitted him. Then he kicked off his boots, which were of surprising length, turned into the berth, and, having an easy conscience, was sleeping like a healthy baby before the car left the depot. Along came another passenger and paid his 50 cents. In two minutes he was back at George Pullman.

“There’s a man in that berth of mine,” said he, hotly, “and he’s about ten feet high. How am I going to sleep there, I’d like to know? Go and look at him.”

In went Pullman--mad, too. The tall, lank man’s knees were under his chin, his arms were stretched across the bed and his feet were stored comfortably--for him. Pullman shook him until he awoke, and then told him if he wanted the whole berth he would have to pay $1.

“My dear sir,” said the tall man, “a contract is a contract. I have paid you 50 cents for half this berth, and, as you see, I’m occupying it. There’s the other half,” pointing to a strip about six inches wide. “Sell that and don’t disturb me again.” And, so saying, the man with a wart on his face went to sleep again. He was Abraham Lincoln.

LINCOLN’S JOKE ON DOUGLAS.

On one occasion, when Lincoln and Douglas were “stumping” the State of Illinois together as political opponents, Douglas, who had the first speech, remarked that in early life, his father, who he said was an excellent cooper by trade, apprenticed him out to learn the cabinet business.

This was too good for Lincoln to let pass, so when his turn came to reply, he said:

“I had understood before that Mr. Douglas had been bound out to learn the cabinet-making business, which is all well enough, but I was not aware until now that his father was a cooper. I have no doubt, however, that he was one, and I am certain, also, that he was a very good one, for (here Lincoln gently bowed toward Douglas) he has made one of the best whisky casks I have ever seen.”

As Douglas was a short heavy-set man, and occasionally imbibed, the pith of the joke was at once apparent, and most heartily enjoyed by all.

On another occasion, Douglas in one of his speeches, made a strong point against Lincoln by telling the crowd that when he first knew Mr. Lincoln he was a “grocery-keeper,” and sold whisky, cigars, etc. “Mr. L.,” he said, “was a very good bar-tender!” This brought the laugh on Lincoln, whose reply, however, soon came, and then the laugh was on the other side.

“What Mr. Douglas has said, gentlemen,” replied Mr. Lincoln, “is true enough; I did keep a grocery and I did sell cotton, candles and cigars, and sometimes whisky; but I remember in those days that Mr. Douglas was one of my best customers.

“Many a time have I stood on one side of the counter and sold whisky to Mr. Douglas on the other side, but the difference between us now is this: I have left my side of the counter, but Mr. Douglas still sticks to his as tenaciously as ever!”--From Lincoln’s Stories, by J. B. McClure.

LINCOLN SHREWDLY TRAPS DOUGLAS.

Perhaps no anecdote ever told of Mr. Lincoln illustrates more forcibly his “longheadedness” in laying plans, not even that incident when he asked the “Jedge” a question in his debate with Mr. Douglas, which may be told as follows:

One afternoon during that joint debate Mr. Lincoln was sitting with his friends, planning the program, when he was observed to go off in a kind of reverie, and for some time appeared totally oblivious of everything around him. Then slowly bringing his right hand up, holding it a moment in the air and then letting it fall with a quick slap upon his thigh, he said:

“There, I am going to ask the ‘jedge’ (he always called him the ‘jedge’) a question to-night, and I don’t care the ghost of a continental which way he answers it. If he answers it one way he will lose the senatorship. If he answers it the other way it will lose him the Presidency.”

No one asked him what the question was: but that evening it was the turn for Mr. Douglas to speak first, and right in the midst of his address, all at once Mr. Lincoln roused up as if a new thought had suddenly struck him, and said:

“Jedge, will you allow me to ask you one question?”

“Certainly,” said Mr. Douglas.

“Suppose, Jedge, there was a new town or colony just started in some Western territory; and suppose there were precisely 100 householders--voters--there; and suppose, Jedge, that ninety-nine did not want slavery and one did. What would be done about it?”

Judge Douglas beat about the bush, but failed to give a direct answer.

“No, no, Jedge, that won’t do. Tell us plainly what will be done about it?”

Again Douglas tried to evade, but Lincoln would not be put off, and he insisted that a direct answer should be given. At last Douglas admitted that the majority would have their way by some means or other.

Mr. Lincoln said no more. He had secured what he wanted. Douglas had answered the question as Illinois people would have answered it, and he got the Senatorship. But that answer was not satisfactory to the people of the south. In 1860 the Charleston convention split in two factions and “it lost him the Presidency,” and it made Abraham Lincoln President.

LINCOLN’S FAIRNESS IN DEBATE.

The first time I met Mr. Lincoln was during his contest with Douglas. I was a young clergyman in a small Illinois country town. I was almost a stranger there when Lincoln was announced to make a speech. I went to the hall, got a seat well forward and asked a neighbor to point out Mr. Lincoln when he came in. “You won’t have no trouble knowin’ him when he comes,” said my friend, and I didn’t. Soon a tall, gaunt man came down the aisle and was greeted with hearty applause.

I was specially impressed with the fairness and honesty of the man. He began by stating Douglas’ points as fully and fairly as Douglas could have done. It struck me that he even overdid it in his anxiety to put his opponent’s argument in the most attractive form. But then he went at those arguments and answered them so convincingly that there was nothing more to be said.

Mr. Lincoln’s manner so charmed me that I asked to meet him after the address, and learning that he was to be in town the next day attending court I invited him to dine with me. He came, and we had an interesting visit.

The thing that most impressed me was his reverence for learning. Recently come from divinity studies, I was full of books, and he was earnest in drawing me out about them. He was by no means ignorant of literature, but as a man of affairs naturally he had not followed new things nor studied in the lines I had. Philosophy interested him particularly, and after we had talked about some of the men then in vogue he remarked how much he felt the need of reading and what a loss it was to a man not to have grown up among books.

“Men of force,” I answered, “can get on pretty well without books. They do their own thinking instead of adopting what other men think.”

“Yes,” said Mr. Lincoln, “but books serve to show a man that those original thoughts of his aren’t very new, after all.”

I met Mr. Lincoln several times later, the next time a long while after in another place. I thought he would have forgotten me, but he knew me on sight and asked in the gentlest way possible about my wife, who had been ill when he came to see us. But of all my memories of Lincoln the one that stands out strongest was his interest in poetry and theology. He loved the things of the spirit.--A Clergyman.

LINCOLN ASKED HIS FRIEND’S HELP FOR THE UNITED STATES SENATE.

One of the most valued possessions of the Gillespie family of Edwardsville, Ill., is a package of old letters, the paper stained by time and the ink faded, but each missive rendered invaluable, to them at least, by the well-known signature of Abraham Lincoln which adorns it. These letters, so carefully preserved, are nearly all of a political nature, and are addressed to Hon. Joseph Gillespie, before the war one of the leading politicians of Illinois, a famous stump speaker, several times member of the legislature, and for many years one of Lincoln’s most intimate political friends. The correspondence covers a period of about ten years, from 1849 to 1858, and the most interesting feature of this period, so far as Lincoln was concerned, was his unsuccessful effort to be elected to the United States senate. Probably the first intimation of his ambition in this direction was conveyed to Mr. Gillespie in the following letter, the original of which is now in the possession of the Missouri Historical Association, having been presented to that society by Mr. Gillespie in 1876. A copy, however, forms part of the family collection. It reads:

“Springfield, Ill., December 1, 1854.--(J. Gillespie, Esq.)--Dear Sir: I have really got it into my head to be United States senator, and if I could have your support my chances would be reasonably good. But I know and acknowledge that you have as just claims to the place as I have; and, therefore, I cannot ask you to yield to me if you are thinking of becoming a candidate yourself. If, however, you are not, then I would like to be remembered by you; and also to have you make a mark for me with the anti-Nebraska members down your way. If you know, and have no objection to tell, let me know whether Trumbull intends to make a push. If he does I suppose the two men in St. Clair, and one or both in Madison, will be for him.