"Sail on, O ship of state,Sail on, O Union, strong and great;Humanity with all its fears,With all its hopes of future years,Is hanging breathless on thy fate.In spite of rock and tempest roar,In spite of false lights on the shore;Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea,Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers are all with thee."
"Sail on, O ship of state,Sail on, O Union, strong and great;Humanity with all its fears,With all its hopes of future years,Is hanging breathless on thy fate.In spite of rock and tempest roar,In spite of false lights on the shore;Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea,Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers are all with thee."
General Grant was given command of the Eastern army, and pushing the enemy hard, victory after victory came to the North. Gen. Sherman marched his army right through the middle of the enemy, dividing it into two parts. He captured Atlanta and then went on to the sea. The song, "Marching through Georgia," was written over this wonderful march. There were more victories in the South and West. General Grant was made commander-in-chief of the armies, and it soon became clear that the cause of secession was lost.
Mr. Lincoln had written an emancipation proclamation and was working it over, thinking and consulting about it. He did not know just when was the best time to issue so momentous a document, that would set free four million of colored men in the degradation and bondage of human slavery. Mr. Seward was Secretary of State and a very wise man; he gave him some good advice about it. Mr. Carpenter quotes Mr. Lincoln's words as follows:
"I put the draft of the proclamation aside, waiting for a victory. Well, the next news we had was of Pope's disaster at Bull Run. Things looked darker than ever. Finally came the week of the battle of Antietam. I determined to wait no longer. The news came, I think on Wednesday, that the advantage was on our side. I was then staying at the Soldiers' Home. Here I finished writing the second draft of the proclamation; came up on Saturday; called the Cabinet together to hear it, and it was published the following Monday. I made a solemn vow before God, that if General Lee was driven back from Maryland I would crown the result by the declaration of freedom to the slaves."
The Emancipation Proclamation is certainly the greatest thing in the nineteenth century.
The Confederate army continued to grow weaker. They were short of food and rest. General Grant's army gave them no rest but pushed after them day and night. They made one more gallant and brave attack on the Union forces, but in vain, and April 9, 1865, Gen. Lee surrendered unconditionally to Gen. Grant at Appomatox Court House, Va. At the instance of President Lincoln, Gen. Lee's soldiers were allowed to ride home their horses, and, no longer rebel soldiers, but American citizens, begin to plow the ground with their horses, to till the soil and make a living for themselves and families. To-day there are none that rejoice more than the men of the South that African slavery is forever abolished.
In 1864 Mr. Lincoln was again elected president by a very large majority over Gen. McClellan, the Democratic nominee. At his second inaugural he uttered some very fine things. Some of them are as follows:
"Neither party expected for the war the magnitude or the duration it has already obtained. Both read the same Bible and pray to the same God, and each invokes His aid against the other. It may seem strange that any men should dare to ask a just God's assistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other men's faces. But let us judge not that we be not judged. The prayers of both could not be answered. * * * The Almighty had his own purposes. 'Woe unto the world because of offenses, for it must needs be that offenses come; but woe to that man by whom the offense cometh.' If we shall suppose that American slavery is one of these offenses, which in the providence of God must needs come * * * and he gives to both North and South this terrible war as the woe due to those by whom the offense came, shall we discern there any departure from those divine attributes, which the believers in a living God always ascribe to him? Fondly do we hope, fervently do we pray, that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away. Yet if God wills that it continue until all the wealth piled by the bondsman's two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn by the lash shall be paid by another drawn by the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so still it must be said that 'the judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether.'"
Saturday, April 8, 1865, was a glad day throughout the North. Men met each other early on that day and shook hands with smiling faces. Many shouted and threw their hats in the air. Great bonfires were kindled and bands came out and played happy airs. Flags floated everywhere. That morning word came on the telegraph wires that Richmond had been captured. Lee had surrendered and the war was over.
Just one week later men met each other on the street with tears in their eyes; signs of mourning were seen everywhere, and the bands played sad tunes. Word came on the telegraph wire that morning that the beloved president was dead; killed by an assassin's bullet.
Mr. Lincoln and his wife were out riding around Washington, and he said, "Mary, we have had a stormy life in Washington, and after this term of office is over, we will go back to Springfield and live a quiet life." But God had willed otherwise. That evening while he was resting from his hard labors and duties as president by attending Ford's theater, John Wilkes Booth, a wild fanatic, who had been a southern rebel, stole upon him from the rear and shot him in the back of the head, then jumped to the stage, and shouted, "Sic semper tyrannis." Booth then leaped out of the window. Although his leg had been broken by the first jump, he got on a horse and rode day and night until he got into Virginia, and there hid in a barn. When they tried to capture him, he would not come out of the barn, so they set the barn on fire, and when he came out they shot him. Several others who were in this plot were hung. They carried President Lincoln to the house across the street, where, as the dawn of day came, his soul departed to its everlasting rest in Heaven.
There probably has never been a death more sudden and unexpected and terrible in the history of the nations. Not only in this country did men everywhere cease their work as people do when a relative dies; but even in the countries of Europe they did so. All organizations passed resolutions of sympathy and the governments universally expressed theirs. It was a world-wide calamity.
He had gone through the four years of a terrible civil war unharmed, and now, when he had saved his country, conquered the enemy, and made him a friend again, and beautiful peace had come everywhere, to think his life should be taken by a cruel murderer, seemed more than men could bear. Every family mourned as though one of its own number had died suddenly.
The Washington funeral took place at the White House, Wednesday, April 19. The body was then taken to the rotunda of the capitol and covered with flowers. It lay in state until Friday, April 21. Thousands of people came to look at the calm, sad face that so many had looked at for hope through the long years of the awful war. It was now cold in death, but had a peaceful, natural look.
A great funeral train was formed that moved slowly across the country, going back along the route he came as the new president in 1861. It was over a week on the journey, as at many of the cities and towns it had to be stopped, so memorial exercises might be held and the people get a chance to see for the last time, the face of the martyr president. More than a million people, no doubt, thus looked on the dead face of President Lincoln.
They reached Springfield May 3 and there the greatest funeral ceremony took place and he was buried in Oakwood cemetery. Bishop Simpson preached the funeral sermon. In the beautiful tomb and under the magnificent monument since erected, Abraham Lincoln, his wife and two sons now sleep, awaiting the great resurrection day.
The nations of the world passed so many tributes in his honor that they were bound into a book of nearly a thousand pages.
As Mr. Lincoln was returning from Richmond on the steamer, the last Sunday of his life, he read aloud to some friends this seeming tribute for himself, from Shakespeare:
"Duncan is in his grave;After life's fitful fever he sleeps well;Treason has done his worst; nor steel nor poison,Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothingCan touch him further."
"Duncan is in his grave;After life's fitful fever he sleeps well;Treason has done his worst; nor steel nor poison,Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothingCan touch him further."
The other passage might have been well added:
"This DuncanHath borne his faculties so meek, hath beenSo clear in his great office, that his virtuesWill plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, againstThe deep damnation of his taking off."
"This DuncanHath borne his faculties so meek, hath beenSo clear in his great office, that his virtuesWill plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, againstThe deep damnation of his taking off."
May we be able to imitate the virtues of Abraham Lincoln.
"Lives of great men all remind usWe can make our lives sublimeAnd departing leave behind usFootprints on the sands of time."
"Lives of great men all remind usWe can make our lives sublimeAnd departing leave behind usFootprints on the sands of time."
There always cluster around a great man like Mr. Lincoln, many interesting incidents and stories. They are not always entirely true, and it is not always possible to prove or disprove them. Nevertheless, they often show true traits of the character, and as side lights help us form the proper estimate. I have therefore added some of these incidents and stories.
Mr. Lincoln was tall and rugged. His face had even more strength than his person. He had very simple manners and as natural as though among neighbors. He wrote a plain hand. He was very kind-hearted and inclined to pardon those who did wrong, particularly those who from fatigue fell asleep when on guard. He was kind to the poor and thoughtful of their needs. He was an example of that saying—"There is nothing so kingly as kindness." He was a very modest man and without pretense or jealousy. He often appointed to places of honor, those who had been his rivals and even those who had said ugly things about him.
Secretary Usher relates some interesting facts.
"I was in the Cabinet somewhat more than two years. It was very ill-assorted. There was hardly ever such a thing as a regular cabinet meeting in the sense of form. Under Johnson and Grant the chairs were placed in regular order around the table. Nothing of the kind ever occurred in Mr. Lincoln's Cabinet. Seward would come in and lie down on a settee. Stanton hardly ever stayed more than five or ten minutes. Sometimes Seward would tell the president the outline of some paper he was writing on a State matter. Lincoln generally stood up and walked about. In fact every member of the Cabinet ran his own department in his own way. I don't suppose that such a historic period was ever so simply operated. Lincoln trusted all his subordinates and they worked out their own performances."
He was one of the greatest men who ever lived. It has now been many years since I was in his Cabinet and some of the things which happened there have been forgotten, and the whole of it is rather dreamy. But Lincoln's extraordinary personality is still one of the most distinct things in my memory. He was as wise as a serpent. He had the skill of the greatest statesman in the world. Everything he handled came to success. Nobody took up his work and brought it to the same perfection.
That Mr. Lincoln was not only kind-hearted, but forgiving, is shown by his treatment of the secession leaders. He never spoke unkindly of them, including even Jefferson Davis, who caused so much of the trouble. Some at the close of the war said: "Do not let Davis escape. He must be hanged." To which Mr. Lincoln replied: "Judge not, that ye be not judged." When he was assassinated he was planning pardon and kind treatment for those who were defeated in the rebellion.
Fairness was the predominating quality of Mr. Lincoln as a trial lawyer. He did not claim his side was all right and the other side all wrong. Sometimes he would say: "I do not think my client is entitled to the whole of what he claims. In this or that point he may be in error." He was not abusive, as so many lawyers are, of the opposing side, but if he said a stern thing under necessity he would qualify it by saying he was sorry to have to make a severe statement.
Mr. Lincoln was not vain of his personal appearance. Indeed if you look at his picture in the front of this book you will see he was a homely man. He only wore a beard while president. Previous to that time he shaved all his beard. He would laugh at a joke on himself as heartily as anyone else. He used to tell and laugh over the following:
"When I was traveling the circuit in Illinois, practicing law, I was accosted one day on the cars by a stranger who said:
"'Excuse me, sir, but I have an article which belongs to you.'
"'How is that?' I asked, astonished.
"The stranger took a pocket knife out and said: 'This knife was put in my hands some time ago with the instruction that I was to keep it until I found an uglier man than myself. I have carried it ever since. Allow me to say I think it now rightly belongs to you, sir, and I respectfully hand you your property.'"
One day when he was crossing a field a fierce bull saw him and made a charge. Mr. Lincoln ran for the fence but even his long legs could not go fast enough to reach it before the bull would catch him, so he ran to a hay-stack and began running around it. The bull could not make the sharp curves around the hay-stack as well as Mr. Lincoln, so he began to gain on the bull, until instead of the bull overtaking him, he began to overtake the bull and at last catching up, he seized the tail of the bull with a tight grip. Then as often as he could, he began to kick the bull until he bellowed in pain and dashed across the field with Mr. Lincoln still hanging to his tail, kicking him whenever he could and shouting "Who began this fight, anyhow?"
Mr. Lincoln was seated in the Journal office at Springfield with some friends, when a telegraph boy came running across the street from the telegraph office, waving a telegram, and shouting, "Mr. Lincoln, you are nominated." His friends gathered around to shake his hand in congratulation as he stood reading the momentous little yellow sheet. In a sort of absent-minded way he shook hands with them and then said: "Gentlemen, excuse me, there is a little woman down the street that is more interested in this than I am, and I will take it to her." He then started down the street with long strides toward his home. This nicely shows how thoughtful he was of his wife and how much he loved her. She was the first to him in his hour of great success and honor.
In the time of the Civil war there was a danger that Mr. Lincoln might be killed because he was president and conducting the war. It was thought that some traitor might watch until he got a good chance, when the president was unprotected, and then shoot him. Mr. Lincoln never seemed to fear this, however. He would walk over from the White House to the War department at night and alone. It would be midnight and two o'clock in the morning sometimes. At the War department Secretary Stanton would receive dispatches from the officers in the army on the situation at the front and Mr. Lincoln, after the day's work desired to get the latest word from the battles. When he was cautioned about danger he said: "If anyone desires to kill me, I do not suppose any amount of care could prevent it." How sadly true this was even when the war was over.
A while before his assassination, two Tennessee ladies called on the president, asking for the release of their husbands, who were prisoners of war at Johnson's Island. One of the ladies urged upon the president as a cause for her husband's release, that he was a religious man. He finally released them, but said:
"You say your husband is a religious man: tell him when you meet him that I say I am not much of a judge of religion, but that in my opinion, the religion that sets men to rebel and fight against their government, because, as they think, that government does not sufficiently help some men to eat their bread by the sweat of other men's faces, is not the sort of religion upon which people can get to Heaven."
In the president's chamber some men were conversing one evening, and the conversation running on that line Mr. Lincoln said: "Seward, you never heard, did you, how I earned my first dollar? I was about eighteen years old and we were quite poor. We had raised some produce and I got mother's consent to take it down the river on a flat boat and sell it. There were then no wharves on the river. I was down at the bank looking over my flat boat to see that it was all right before I started out. Two men came along and wanted to get out to a steamer in the river and asked me if I would take them and their trunks out. I said, 'Certainly.' So they got on the flat boat and I pulled them out to the steamer and they got aboard and I lifted on the trunks. The steamer was about to go and the men had forgotten to pay me, so I shouted to them and each of them threw a silver half dollar on the floor of my boat. I could scarcely believe my eyes when I saw the amount of the money. It may seem a small sum to you gentlemen, but it seemed an immense sum to me. To think that I, a poor boy, had earned a dollar in less than a day and by honest work, was almost too good to be true. But there it was and the world did not not seem such an awful big and terrible place after all, and I thought perhaps I could do great things yet, even if I was such a poor and helpless chap."
Five Points in New York for many years was considered about the most wicked place in the city. They started missions there and made it better. One Sunday morning when Sunday School commenced, a tall, strange looking man entered and sat down. He listened with close attention to the exercises and when the lesson was over, the superintendent asked him if he would say something to the children. He said he would gladly; and going forward he talked in a plain, simple, earnest way and fascinated the children so that they all became very quiet and listened to all he had to say very eagerly. The faces of the children would brighten as he told some beautiful lesson or break into laughter as he quaintly told a humorous incident and then they would look serious as he warned them of sin and wrong and what would follow. Once or twice he tried to stop, but the little folks shouted, "Go on, Oh, do go on!" The superintendent wondered who this unusually interesting man was and when he was leaving, asked his name. The reply was, "I am Abraham Lincoln."
During the war many fairs were held to raise money to send extra food, clothing and medicine to the soldiers in the fields and hospitals. The ladies generally managed these fairs in the different towns. They asked Mr. Lincoln to speak at one of them and he gladly consented. He said:
"This extraordinary war in which we are engaged falls heavily on all classes of people, but the most heavily on the soldier. For it has been said, 'All that a man hath will he give for his life.' And while all contribute of their substance, the soldier puts his life at stake and often yields it up in his country's cause. The highest merit, then, is due the soldier. In this war extraordinary developments have manifested themselves, such as have not been seen in former wars, and among these manifestations, nothing has been more remarkable than these fairs for the relief of suffering soldiers and their families. The chief agents of these fairs are the women of America. I am not accustomed to the language of eulogy; I have never studied the art of paying compliments to women; but I must say that, if all that has been said by orators and poets were applied to the women of America, it would not do them justice for their conduct during this war. I will close by saying, God bless the women of America."
Another of Mr. Lincoln's stories was this:
A traveler on the frontier lost his way one stormy night. It was a terrible thunder storm. He floundered along until his horse played out. He could see only when the flashes of lightning came. The peals of thunder, however, were proportionately strong and frightening. One roar and all around him seemed crashing; he fell on his knees. He was not much given to praying so his prayer was short:
"O, Lord, if it's all the same to you, give us a little more light and a little less noise."
Mr. Lincoln used to tell the story of a shaggy old man, who was a great hunter and lived in the edge of the timber. One morning he stood out in front of his door firing away at a squirrel in a tree. He kept shooting, but the squirrel did not come down. His son came up and asked what he was firing at. The father said: "Don't you see that squirrel up there in the tree?" The son looked and looked in every possible way but could see no squirrel. Still the father kept firing away. At last the son looking at him said: "Father I see what's the matter. There is an ant hanging on the end of your eyebrow and you have been looking at it."
Attorney-General Bates objected to the appointment of a certain Judge to a government position. Mr. Lincoln said: "He did me a favor once, let me tell you about it."
"I was walking to court one morning with ten miles of bad road before me. The Judge overtook me and said:
"'Hello, Lincoln, going to the court house? Get in and I will give you a ride.'
"I got in and the Judge went on reading some court papers. Soon the carriage struck a stump on one side of the road and then something else on the other side. I looked out and saw the driver jerking from one side to the other on his seat, so I said, 'Judge I think your driver has taken a drop too much of liquor this morning.'
"'Well I declare Lincoln,' said he, 'I should not much wonder if you are right, for he has nearly upset me half a dozen times since starting.' Putting his head out of the window he shouted, 'You scoundrel, you are drunk.'
"Upon which pulling up his horses and turning around with gravity, the driver said, 'Golly, but that's the first rightful decision your honor has given for the last twelve months.'"
"Among the numerous applicants who visited the White House one day was a well-dressed lady. She came forward without apparent embarassment in her air or manner, and addressed the president. Giving her a very close and scrutinizing look, he said:
"'Well, madam, what can I do for you?'
"She told him that she lived in Alexandria; that the church where she worshiped had been taken for a hospital.
"'What church, madam?' Mr. Lincoln asked in a quick, nervous manner.
"'The —— Church,' she replied; 'and as there are only two or three wounded soldiers in it, I came to see if you would not let us have it, as we want it very much to worship God in.'
"'Madam, have you been to see the Post Surgeon at Alexandria about this matter?'
"'Yes sir; but we could do nothing with him.'
"'Well, we put him there to attend to just such business, and it is reasonable to suppose that he knows better what should be done under the circumstances than I do. See here; you say you live in Alexandria; probably you own property there. How much will you give to assist in building a hospital?"
"'You know, Mr. Lincoln, our property is very much embarassed by the war;—so, really, I could hardly afford to give much for such a purpose.'
"'Well, madam, I expect we shall have another fight soon; and my opinion is, God wants that church for poor wounded Union soldiers as much as he does for secesh people to worship in.' Turning to his table he said, quite abruptly: 'You will excuse me; I can do nothing for you. Good day, madam.'"
In Abbott's "History of the Civil War," the following story is told as one of Lincoln's "hardest hits:"
"I once knew," said Lincoln, "a sound churchman by the name of Brown, who was a member of a very sober and pious committee having in charge the erection of a bridge over a dangerous and rapid river. Several architects failed, and at last Brown said he had a friend named Jones, who had built several bridges and undoubtedly could build that one. So Mr. Jones was called in.
"'Can you build this bridge?' inquired the committee.
"'Yes,' replied Jones, 'or any other. I could build a bridge to the infernal regions if necessary!'
"The committee was shocked, and Brown felt called upon to defend his friend. 'I know Jones so well,' said he, 'and he is so honest a man and so good an architect, that if he states soberly and positively that he can build a bridge to—to—why, I believe it; but I feel bound to say that I have my doubts about the abutment on the infernal side.'
"So," said Mr. Lincoln, "when politicians told me that the northern and southern wings of the Democracy could be harmonized, why, I believed them, of course; but I always had my doubts about the 'abutment' on the other side."
"The Emancipation Proclamation was taken to Mr. Lincoln at noon on the first day of January, 1863, by Secretary Seward and Frederick, his son. As it lay unrolled before him, Mr. Lincoln took a pen, dipped it in ink, moved his hand to the place for the signature, held it for a moment, and then removed his hand and dropped the pen. After a little hesitation he again took up the pen and went through the same movement as before. Mr. Lincoln then turned to Mr. Seward, and said:
"'I have been shaking hands since nine o'clock this morning, and my right arm is almost paralyzed. If my name ever goes into history it will be for this act, and my whole soul is in it. If my hand trembles when I sign the Proclamation, all who examine the document hereafter will say, 'He hesitated.'
"He then turned to the table, took up the pen again, slowly and firmly wrote 'Abraham Lincoln,' with which the whole world is now familiar. He then looked up, smiled and said: 'That will do.'"
"On the Monday before the assassination, when the President was on his return from Richmond, he stopped at City Point. Calling upon the head surgeon at that place, Mr. Lincoln told him he wished to visit all the hospitals under his charge, and shake hands with every soldier. The surgeon asked him if he knew what he was undertaking, there being five or six thousand soldiers at that place, and it would be quite a tax upon his strength to visit all the wards and shake hands with every soldier. Mr. Lincoln answered, with a smile, he 'guessed he was equal to the task; at any rate he would try, and go as far as he could; he should never, probably, see the boys again, and he wanted them to know that he appreciated what they had done for their country.'
"Finding it useless to try to dissuade him, the surgeon began his rounds with the President, who walked from bed to bed, extending his hand to all, saying a few words of sympathy to some, making kind inquiries of others, and welcomed by all with the heartiest cordiality.
"As they passed along they came to a ward in which lay a rebel who had been wounded and was then a prisoner. As the tall figure of the kindly visitor appeared in sight, he was recognized by the rebel soldier who, raising himself on his elbow in bed, watched Mr. Lincoln as he approached and, extending his hand, exclaimed while tears ran down his cheeks:
"'Mr. Lincoln, I have long wanted to see you, to ask your forgiveness for ever raising my hand against the old flag.'
"Mr. Lincoln was moved to tears. He heartily shook the hand of the repentant rebel, and assured him of his good-will, and with a few words of kind advice passed on. After some hours the tour of the various hospitals was made, and Mr. Lincoln returned with the surgeon to his office. They had scarcely entered, however, when a messenger boy came, saying that one ward had been omitted, and 'the boys' wanted to see the President. The surgeon who was thoroughly tired and knew Mr. Lincoln must be, tried to dissuade him from going; but the good man said he must go back; he would not knowingly omit any one; 'the boys' would be so disappointed. So he went with the messenger, accompanied by the surgeon, and shook hands with the gratified soldiers, and then returned again to his office.
"The surgeon expressed the fear that the President's arm would be lamed with so much hand-shaking, saying that it certainly must ache. Mr. Lincoln smiled, and saying something about his 'strong muscles,' stepped out at the open door, took up a very large, heavy axe which lay there by a log of wood, and chopped vigorously for a few moments, sending the chips flying in all directions; and then pausing, he extended his right arm to its full length, holding the axe out horizontally, without its even quivering as he held it. Strong men who looked on—men accustomed to manual labor—could not hold that same axe in that position for a moment. Returning to the office, he took a glass of lemonade, for he would take no stronger beverage; and while he was within, the chips he had chopped were gathered up and safely cared for by the hospital steward, because they were 'the chips that Abraham Lincoln chopped.'"
"General Fisk, attending the reception at the White House, on one occasion saw, waiting in the ante-room, a poor old man from Tennessee. Sitting down beside him, he inquired his errand, and learned that he had been waiting three or four days to get an audience, he said that on seeing Mr. Lincoln probably depended the life of his son, who was under sentence of death for some military offense.
"General Fisk wrote his case in outline on a card, and sent it in, with a special request that the President would see the man. In a moment the order came; and past senators, governors and generals, waiting impatiently, the old man went into the President's presence.
"He showed Mr. Lincoln his papers, and he, on taking them, said he would look into the case and give him the result on the following day.
"'To-morrow may be too late! My son is under sentence of death! The decision ought to be made now!' and the streaming tears told how much he was moved.
"'Come,' said Mr. Lincoln, 'wait a bit, and I'll tell you a story;' and then he told the old man General Fisk's story about the swearing driver, as follows:
"'The General had begun his military life as a Colonel, and, as he was a religious man, he proposed to his men that he should do all the swearing of the regiment. They assented; and for months no instance was known of the violation of this promise. The Colonel had a teamster named John Todd, who, as roads were not always the best, had some difficulty in commanding his temper and his tongue. John happened to be driving a mule-team through a series of mud holes a little worse than usual, when, unable to restrain himself any longer, he burst forth into a volley of energetic oaths. The Colonel took notice of the offense, and brought John to an account."
"'John,' said he, 'didn't you promise to let me do all the swearing of the regiment?'
"'Yes I did, Colonel,' he replied, 'but the fact was the swearing had to be done then or not at all, and you were not there to do it.'
"As he told the story, the old man forgot his boy, and both the President and his listener had a hearty laugh together at its conclusion. Then he wrote a few words which the old man read, and in which he found new occasion for tears; but these tears were tears of joy, for the words saved the life of his son."
President Lincoln was quite ill one winter at Washington, and was not inclined to listen to all the bores who called at the White House. One day just as one of these pests had seated himself for a long interview, the President's physician happened to enter the room, and Mr. Lincoln said, holding out his hands: "Doctor, what are those blotches?" "That's variloid, or mild small-pox," said the doctor. "They're all over me. It is contagious, I believe?" said Mr. Lincoln. "I just called to see how you were," said the visitor. "Oh, don't be in a hurry sir," placidly remarked the executive. "Thank you sir; I'll call again," replied the visitor, making towards the door. "Do sir," said the President. "Some people said they could not take very well to my proclamation, but now I have something everybody can take." By this time the visitor was quite out of sight.
"Judge Baldwin, of California, being in Washington, called one day on General Halleck, and, presuming upon a familiar acquaintance in California a few years before, solicited a pass outside of our lines to see a brother in Virginia, not thinking that he would meet with a refusal, as both his brother and himself were good Union men.
"'We have been deceived too often,' said General Halleck, 'and I regret I can't grant it.'
"Judge Baldwin then went to Stanton, and was very briefly disposed of, with the same result. Finally, he obtained an interview with Mr. Lincoln, and stated his case.
"'Have you applied to General Halleck?' inquired the President.
"'Yes, and met with a flat refusal,' said Judge Baldwin.
"'Then you must see Stanton,' continued the President.
"'I have, and with the same result,' was the reply.
"'Well, then,' said Mr. Lincoln, with a smile, 'I can do nothing; for you must know that I have very little influence with this Administration."
"When Abraham Lincoln was a lawyer in Illinois, he and a certain Judge once got to bantering one another about trading horses; and it was agreed that the next morning at 9 o'clock they should make a trade, the horse to be unseen up to that hour, and no backing out, under a forfeiture of $25.00.
"At the hour appointed the Judge came up, leading the sorriest looking specimen of a horse ever seen in those parts. In a few minutes Mr. Lincoln was seen approaching with a wooden saw-horse upon his shoulders. Great were the shouts and the laughter of the crowd, and both were greatly increased when Mr. Lincoln, on surveying the Judge's animal, set down his saw-horse, and exclaimed: 'Well, Judge, this is the first time I ever got the worst of it in a horse trade.'"
"The following first speech of Abraham Lincoln was delivered at Poppsville, Ill., just after the close of a public sale, at which time and in those early days speaking was in order. Mr. Lincoln was then but twenty-three years of age, but being called for, mounted a stump and gave a concise statement of his policy:
"'Gentlemen, fellow-citizens: I presume you know who I am. I am humble Abraham Lincoln. I have been solicited by many friends to become a candidate for the legislature. My politics can be briefly stated. I am in favor of the internal improvement system, and a high protective tariff. These are my sentiments and political principles. If elected, I shall be thankful. If not it will be all the same.'"
"A little fact in Mr. Lincoln's work will illustrate his ever present desire to deal honestly and justly with men. He had always a partner in his professional life, and, when he went out upon the circuit, this partner was usually at home. While out, he frequently took up and disposed of cases that were never entered at the office. In these cases, after receiving his fees, he divided the money in his pocket-book, labeling each sum (wrapped in a piece of paper), that belonged to his partner, stating his name, and the case on which it was received. He could not be content to keep an account. He divided the money, so that if he, by any casualty, should fail of an opportunity to pay it over, there could be no dispute as to the exact amount that was his partner's due. This may seem trivial, nay, boyish, but it was like Mr. Lincoln."
"Soon after Mr. Lincoln entered upon his profession at Springfield, he was engaged in a criminal case, in which it was thought there was little chance of success. Throwing all his powers into it, he came off victorious, and promptly received for his services five hundred dollars. A legal friend, calling upon him the next morning, found him sitting before a table, upon which his money was spread out, counting it over and over.
"'Look here, Judge,' said Lincoln; 'see what a heap of money I've got from the —— case. Did you ever see anything like it? Why, I never had so much money in my life before, put it all together.' Then crossing his arms upon the table, his manner sobering down, he added, 'I have got just five hundred dollars; if it were only seven hundred and fifty, I would go directly and purchase a quarter section of land and settle it upon my old step-mother.'
"His friend said that if the deficiency was all he needed he would loan him the amount, taking his note, to which Mr. Lincoln instantly acceded.
"His friend then said: 'Lincoln, I would not do just what you have indicated. Your step-mother is getting old, and will not probably live many years. I would settle the property upon her for her use during her lifetime, to revert to you upon her death.'
"With much feeling, Mr. Lincoln replied: 'I shall do no such thing. It is a poor return at the best, for all the good woman's devotion and fidelity to me, and there is not going to be any half-way business about it" and so saying he gathered up his money and proceeded forthwith to carry out his long-cherished purpose into execution.
Mr. Herndon got out a huge poster announcing a speech by Mr. Lincoln, employed a band to drum up the crowd, and bells were rung, but only three persons were present. Mr. Lincoln was to have spoken on the slavery question.
Gentlemen:This meeting is larger than I knew it would be, as I knew Herndon (Lincoln's partner) and myself would be here, but I did not know any one else would be here: and yet another has come—you John Pain, (the janitor.)These are bad times, and seem out of joint. All seems dead, dead, dead: but the age is not yet dead; it liveth as our Maker liveth. Under all this seeming want of life and motion, the world does move nevertheless.Be hopeful. And now let us adjourn and appeal to the people.
Gentlemen:This meeting is larger than I knew it would be, as I knew Herndon (Lincoln's partner) and myself would be here, but I did not know any one else would be here: and yet another has come—you John Pain, (the janitor.)
These are bad times, and seem out of joint. All seems dead, dead, dead: but the age is not yet dead; it liveth as our Maker liveth. Under all this seeming want of life and motion, the world does move nevertheless.
Be hopeful. And now let us adjourn and appeal to the people.
"When General Phelps took possession of Ship Island, near New Orleans, early in the war it will be remembered that he issued a proclamation, somewhat bombastic in tone, freeing the slaves. To the surprise of many people, on both sides, the President took no official notice of this movement. Some time had elapsed, when one day a friend took him to task for his seeming indifference on so important a matter.
"'Well,' said Mr. Lincoln, 'I feel about that a good deal as a man whom I will call 'Jones,' whom I once knew, did about his wife. He was one of your meek men, and had the reputation of being badly henpecked. At last, one day his wife was seen switching him out of the house. A day or two afterward a friend met him on the street, and said: 'Jones, I have always stood up for you, as you know; but I am not going to do it any longer. Any man who will stand quietly and take a switching from his wife, deserves to be horsewhipped.' Jones looked up with a wink, patting his friend on the back. 'Now don't,' said he: 'why, it didn't hurt me any, and you've no idea what a power of good it did Sarah Ann.'"
In response to an address from the Sons of Temperance in Washington, on the 29th of September, 1863, Mr. Lincoln made the following remarks:
"As a matter of course, it will not be possible for me to make a response co-extensive with the address which you have presented to me. If I were better known than I am, you would not need to be told that, in the advocacy of the cause of temperance, you have a friend and sympathiser in me. When a young man—long ago—before the Sons of Temperance, as an organization had an existence, I, in an humble way, made temperance speeches, and I think I may say that to this day I have never, by my example belied what I then said.
"I think the reasonable men of the world have long since agreed that intemperance is one of the greatest, if not the very greatest of all evils among mankind. That is not a matter of dispute, I believe. That the disease exists, and that it is a very great one, is agreed upon by all. The mode of cure is one about which there may be differences of opinions. You have suggested that in an army—our army, drunkenness is a great evil, and one which while it exists to a very great extent, we cannot expect to overcome so entirely as to leave such success in our arms as we might have without it. This, undoubtedly, is true, and while it is, perhaps rather a bad source to derive comfort from, nevertheless, in a hard struggle, I do not know but what it is some consolation to be aware that there is some intemperance on the other side, too; and that they have no right to beat us in physical combat on that ground."
Mr. Lincoln, in 1844 upon a visit to the old neighborhood in which he was raised was moved to write the following little poem. It is the only one he is known to have written.