One day while Uncle Abe was attending to a case at Mount Pulaski, (the country seat of Logan County, Illinois,) he was beset by old B———s, a worthy farmer, but a notorious malaprop, for an opinion as to his amenability to the road tax. "You look here, Mr. Lincoln, these fellows here want to make me work on the road."
"Well!" said Uncle Abe.
"Well, I tells them that they can't do it, cause I'm aninderlid, you see."
(Of course Uncle Abe concurred in B———s opinion, and forgot to charge a fee.)
"On another occasion, he wanted John G. Gillette, the great cattle dealer, toproximatehim because he'd got the best pair of cattle scales in Logan County."
Some one ventured to ask Uncle Abe, soon after his arrival at the White House, how he got the sobriquet of "Honest Abe."
"Oh," said he, "I suppose my case was pretty much like that of a country merchant I once read of. Some one called him a 'little rascal.' 'Thank you for the compliment,' said he. 'Why so?' asked the stigmatizer. 'Because that title distinguishes me from my fellow tradesmen, who are allgreatrascals.'"
"So honest lawyers were so scarce in Illinois that you were thus distinguished from them?" persisted the questioner.
"Well," quoth Uncle Abe, glancing slyly at Douglas, Sweet, and others from Illinois, "it's hard to say where the honest ones are."
Thirty-five or forty years ago, a trip from Sangamon or Macon County, to St. Louis, was an event to be talked of. It took as long to make it, and furnished food for as much rustic enquiry and comment, as does a voyage to Europe now. Uncle Abe had then given up rail-splitting, and was studying law. Having a little while before treated himself to a (then) rare thing, a suit of "store clothes;" and a neighbor being about to leave for St. Louis, he resolved to go along. As the teams toiled on at the rate of fifteen or twenty miles a day, they were gradually joined by others, till the train presented somewhat the sights now to be seen on our great overland routes to the Pacific.
On arrival at St. Louis, Abe determined to see high life, and accordingly made tracks for a letter A. No. 1, first class Hotel. The Old City Hotel was then the only house that could claim that distinction. There the merchants congregated, and there the Indian trader sought relaxation from frontier hardships, while the rough trapper was content with the humble fare of the "Hunter's Home."
I forget what association called out this reminiscence of that trip; but there can be no harm in repeating the story. Such mishaps have befallen incipient greatness before.
At the dinner table, each waiter was provided with a wine card, and each guest had his wine charged to the number of his room, simply calling out, as for instance, Sherry No. 9, &c. A jolly Indian trader, sat just opposite Abe, who betimes called "Claret, No 11." Abe saw that most of the guests were similarly providing for themselves, and concluded not to appear penurious, so he said he'd take some wine too.
"What kind, sah?" asked the waiter.
"Oh, I'll take the same,"—pointing to the bottle just called for by the Indian trader.
"What number, sah?"
Abe was puzzled. Ho had not been used to wine or hotel life; but it was only a moment before he broke the ice.
"Oh, I'll just take No. 11 too."
The trader looked up surprised, while several others near by, smiled a faint comprehension as to the state of affairs.
"Why, young man," said the trader, "that is my number, and mine is a single room."
"I beg pardon," stammered Abe, conscious that he had betrayed rusticity and ignorance; but not knowing exactly how to extricate himself, the good-hearted trader came to his aid—
"Were you ever in the city before?" asked he.
"Never before."
"Well, then, in memory of your advent, it shall be No. 11 too," and he quietly pushed the bottle across the table. So agreeable was he that Abe rallied, and the second bottle followed the fate of the first. On renewing the conversation after dinner, the trader was satisfied that Abe had 'lots' of 'horse sense,' but little of worldly experience, and he friendlily invited him to go out with him as a clerk; but, Abe declined. Had he gone—what? Perhaps he might have become a respectable Indian trader—perhaps he never had been elected President, and perhaps we would have had no rebellion.
Uncle Abe took a great liking to the late Col. Ellsworth, and afterwards did him the honor of making a Colonel of him. The rebel Jackson did the rest, but enough of that. Many of our readers will recall the slim, spruce figure of Col. Ellsworth as he paraded the streets of Springfield, dressed in a unique Zouave uniform, a mere boy in appearance. He was full of animal spirits. He and Bob O'Lincoln were cutting up didoes in the Law office of Lincoln and Hornden, which greatly annoyed Uncle Abe, and he gently reproved them. Bob, a little nettled, replied by quoting the common couplet:
"A little nonsense now and then,
Is relished by the wisest men."
"Yes," said Uncle Abe, looking severely at Bob, "that's the difference between a wise man and a fool who relishes it all the time."
Bob subsided, and Ellsworth betook himself anew to Blackstone.
When Uncle Abe used to attend the Courts in the regions round about Sangamon, he generally made easy stays, and was wont to look at the country and talk to the people at his leisure. On one occasion he was riding by the premises of old H———, who was notorious for his unthriftiness, and who was in the act of driving some stray hogs out of his corn-field.
"Good morning, Mr. H———," said Uncle Abe.
"Morning, Mr. Lincoln, morning."
"Why don't you mend that piece of fence thoroughly, Mr. H———, and keep the pigs out?" asked Uncle Abe.
"Ha'n't got time," said H———.
"Why," said Uncle Abe, with an air of blended reproof and humor, "you've got all the time there is Mr. H———."
Whether H——— mended his fence and his thriftless habits, this deponent knoweth not; but has often thought how true was the remark, whether as a joke or an admonition. Every second, minute or hour is ours—ours to use or ours to squander. How wontonly wasteful would be the rich man who should stand upon a vessel's deck and cast his million golden coins into the sea; yet day after day we stand upon the shores of eternity, and cast the golden moments into the unreturning past. All the knowledge and wealth of the world is but the result of improved time. So don't say you "havn't got time," for you've got all there is, as Uncle Abe says.
About the time this occurred, there stood on one side of Capitol Square, in Springfield, a Hotel, now doubtless out of memory of most of the occupants of the out-lots and additions which speculators have hitched to the original village. In its day it was a "first-class hotel," but it waned before the "American" and is now among the "things that were." There were some who doubted the cleanliness of thecuisine, and "thereby hangs a tale."
Judge Brown arrived in town and put up at the aforesaid hotel, whereat, Uncle Abe, on meeting him, expressed his regret, begging him to becomehisguest. The Judge would fain not trouble his friend.
"But you know the reputation of the place—the kitchen?" said Uncle Abe.
"I've heard of it," said the Judge; "but as I want to keep my appetite, I always shun the kitchen, if not the cooks."
"But surely, can't you see by the table alone, Judge?"
"I know, Mr. Lincoln, but I'm going to stop only a day or two, and I guess I can stand for that time what the landlord's family stand all their lives."
Speaking of Hotels, reminds me of a little episode of one of Uncle Abe's professional visits to Cairo, in Egypt, a town fenced in with mud-banks and celebrated for its mud-holes and mean whisky. Thereabouts is a Hotel, and thereat Uncle Abe stopped because the water forbade further traveling. When his bill was presented to him next morning, he ventured to remark, "that his accommodation had not been of the most agreeable kind."
"We are very much crowded," apologetically replied the landlord.
"But I had hard work to get breakfast this morning."
"Yes," continued the apologist, "we are greatly in need of help."
"Well, well," said Uncle Abe, "you keep a first rate hotel in one respect."
"Ah!" said the landlord, brightening up, "in what respect is that?"
"Your bills," said Undo Abe, vanishing towards the "Central" cars.
The Ky-ro-ite landlord perhaps thought he ought to be well compensated for keeping a hotel in such a place. A man of his sort used to "keep tavern" in Pasy County, Indiana, several years ago. A pedestrian stopped with him over night, for which the charge was 2.50.
"Why, landlord," said he, "this is an outrageous bill."
"You mean it's a big'un?" said the insatiate Boniface.
"Yes, I do."
"Well, stranger, we keep tavern here."
"What has that to do with such a bill?"
"Look at that'ere sign, stranger—cost ten dollars; your'n the fust trav'ler that's bin along for three weeks, and we can't afford to keep tavern for nothin—wecan't!"
Gov. Morgan, of New York, was urging the employment of General W———in active service, Seward objected, that he was "too old" for the emergency of the times.
"Yes," said Uncle Abe, "we've got too many old officers in the army, and that is not the worst of it—we've got two many old womenthere!" This was when Uncle Abe's faith was strong in little Mac.
"Some conclusions;" said Uncle Abe on one occasion, "are nonsequential. To say that Rome was not built in a day, does not prove that it was built in a night."
In the outset of the famous Black-hawk war in Illinois, a "hoss company" was raised in the region where Uncle Abe was (then) a rising lawyer. I say rising, although he had then reached a height sufficient to help himself to most blessings—and he, the aforesaid U.A., was chosen Captain. Uncle Abe rode a "slapping stallion," who was either naturally restive, or appreciated his new honor too highly—at any rate, he corvetted and pirouetted like a very Bucephalus. At last he unhorsed his rider, who landed sprawling on the prairie in one of those green excrescences that abound where bovine herds range. As the discomfitted Uncle Abe rose, and surveyed his predicament, old Pierre Menard, who was a near spectator, remarked in his broken French:
"Vell, I nevair sees any man accoutred en militaire like zat before."
Most old suckers pronounce accoutred as the Yankees do the word cowcumber, and this rendered Menard's joke more unctious.
Years ago, when the capital of Suckerdom was a village of less "magnificence" than it now presents—when Lincoln, Harden, Baker, McDougal, Douglas, Shields and Ferguson were all village lawyers, and scarcely known to fame—Judge Thomas Brown was on the Supreme bench of the State. He was to some extent a "character;" but not a very successful lawyer. He went to California, since when he has been generally lost sight of; but his old friends may be assured that if he is in the "land of the living," Uncle Abe's tax collectors will find him. But that's neither here nor there. His ideas of the perils of practicing law in Illinois, in early times, is what is now before the reader.
On one occasion, after he had changed his residence to Peoria, having some business to transact in Springfield, he arrived in that place and put up at the old American House, (now kept by Henry Bidgely, Esq.) He chanced to mention the name of Peoria. Instantly the attention of a countryman was fixed, upon him, who, at the first opportunity accosted him—
"From Peoria, Squar?"
"Yes."
"Much acquainted?"
"Pretty well, Sir."
"Know a lawyer up there named H———g R———s?"
"Yes sir."
"How's he getting along?"
"Oh, first rate—devilish lucky man."
"He's getting hold of considerable land, hain't he?"
"Yes a deal—devilish lucky man.
"Yes—large—devilish lucky man."
"Look here, Squar," said the countryman, evidently puzzled at R———s being so devilish lucky.
"What do you mean about his being so lucky?"
"Mean? why I call any man lucky that practices law twenty years in Illinoiss, and don't get into the penitentiary."
"Mr. Lincoln," said an ardent sovereignty man just at the beginning of the last Presidential contest "Mr. Douglas is a cabinet maker."
"Hewaswhen I first knew him," said Uncle Abe "but he gave up the business so long ago, that I don't think he can make a Presidential chair now." Uncle Abe proved himself a prophet, although at a tremendous cost to the country.
A delegation of temperance men recently sought to influence Uncle Abe to take some stringent steps to suppress intemperance in our armies. Among other reasons urged, they said our armies were often beaten because of intemperance.
"Is that so?" said Undo Abe. "I've heard on all sides that the rebels drink more than our boys do, and I can't see why our boys, who drink less, are more liable to get whipped."
"But you know the corrupting influence of the army in regard to drinking habits," pursued the Committee.
"I've heard that, too," said Uncle Abe, "but I think they will do pretty wellif I can keep them out of Washington!"
The Committee didn't carry their measure, by a jug full.
When the Illinois boys gathered at Springfield, under the call of the ten regiment bill, they were quartered on the fair grounds, just out of the city. All the stalls were filled with troops, before which were signs as "St. Nicholas," "Richmond House," etc., etc. Charley W———, on going through the fair grounds, looked into the "Richmond House," and said—
"Well, boys, how do you get along?"
"Oh, first rate," replied the Chicagoians, "we're allstall fed."
"Bully for you," said Charley; "hope you'll be too tough for the rebels."
"I can't seem to reap any advantage from the rebel movements," said McClellan, in consultation with Uncle Abe.
"Oh, you just keep a watchful, careful eye on Leer and perhaps you will yet see how to make use of them, as old Mother Grundy did of her crooked wood."
"Thereby hangs a tale," remarked little Mac, with one of his peculiar, quaint smiles.
"You're right, General. Your remark reminded me of a good old neighbor of my father's, in Kentucky, who died many years ago. She was sweet-tempered—few such in this world." Uncle Abe stopped as though a mental comparison had damaged some woman of his acquaintance. "Yes, her disposition was of that kind that extracts 'good from things evil.' And she was her husband's pride and boast. One day he was praising her to a neighbor."
"'Look here, old man Grundy,' said the neighbor 'these women are just like cats—they are all right as long as you stroke the fur the right way, but reverse the movement, and you'll see the fire fly. Now, I'll tell you what, I bet a four-gallon keg of my four-year-old peach, that I can tell you how to make her as mad as a set-hen, if you dare to try."
"'Done,' cried old man Grundy.
"'Well, you just haul home all the crookedest sticks of wood you can find, and then see.'
"Old man Grundy brought home a small load every day or two, and it was knotty and crooked as a pigs-tail; but not a word or look of complaint. For a week this continued, with the same result, when he asked the good wife how she liked the wood."
"'Oh,'tis beautiful wood,' said she; 'it burns finely, and then it fitsaround my pots and kettles just, as if 'twas made on purpose.'"
Lee did not fit into Mac's hand so well, yet the story was not without its use to him.
During the progress of the Senatorial campaign between Douglas and Lincoln, Uncle Abe came home to recreate a few days. Douglas, long used to the political arena, bore the fatigues of the canvass like a veteran. His custom was to bathe just after supper, getting some friend to rub him like a race horse, when he would sit down and enjoy his whisky and cigar. Lincoln, lank and abstemious, bore his yoke with evident weariness. But to the story.
Uncle Abe went up into the Governor's room in the State House, where he was soon joined by many of the leading Republicans of the town. Some one remarked on his look of weariness. "It is a mighty contest," remarked Uncle Jesse Du Bois.
"But Mr. Lincoln does not show his great appreciation of it upon the stand," remarked a Chicago correspondent, in allusion to Uncle Abe's good humored replies to Douglas.
"But still, when the day's gladiatorial combat is over, it seems to me, as the Kentucky fellow said, that I had been through 'an acre of fight.'"
"Give us that story, Abe," said Dr. Wallace, Uncle Abe's brother-in-law.
"Well, one of my earliest recollections of a Kentucky Court, was a trial about a fight. It took place in the Court House grounds, and the Judge, thinking it constructable as a contempt of Court, sent out the Sheriff, and had the parties quickly brought before him. Both had bruised noses and beavers, and showed the unmistakable evidence of having been in a scrimage. The witnesses were numerous, and the evidence was so conflicting, that the Judge declared he could legally reach no other conclusion than that there hadbeen no fight at all. But the Sheriff ventured to suggest:
"Here's Jim Blowers—he had hold on one of them fellers, when I arrested them."
"Mr. Clerk," said the Judge, "you will at once swear Mr. Blowers."
"Now, Mr. Blowers," said the Clerk, "you will please tell the Court what you know about this affair."
"Well, ax on."
"Well, was there a fight between these parties?"
"Just a bit of scrimage."
"It was a real fight, was it?"
"Well, some people would call it that."
"How much of a fight was it?"
"Oh, considerable—they pulled and hauled about kinder like two cows when they lock horns."
"But, tell the Court more precisely?"
"Well, I should say it was a right smart fight."
"Buthowmuch of a fight?"
"Well, then, just about an acre, I reckon."
It is needless to say that the crowd enjoyed the joke hugely.
"It is easier to pay a small debt than a larger one."
In the year 1860 or thereabouts, when a great patent case was being tried in Chicago, and champagne and oysters were the favorite viands served nightly to Counsel and Jurors after the adjournment of Court, it happened that one Ed. D———n, a young patent lawyer from New York, was present on one of those occasions. Now, Ned is terribly afflicted with a determination of words to the mouth, and managed to monopolize the whole conversation. Ned had a speech to make upon everything, and kept buzzing around like a musquito, dipping his bill into everything animate or inanimate, no matter which. At last he began to officiate at serving out the oysters, and with ladle in hand, said in his usual stilted style, "I wonder whether this bivalve, this seemingly obtuse oyster, is endowed with any degree of intelligence." Uncle Abe looked at the puppy, who, by the way, had prevented him cracking a single one of his favorite jokes for the entire evening, and quaintly remarked, that "he was satisfied that an oyster knew when to shut up, and that was more than some New York lawyers knew." Ned has never propounded the query as to the intellect of oysters since.
The last county made in Illinois—I don't mean by the Legislature, but by Nature, and where dirt was so short that it lies under water part of the year—is called Alexander, and used to boast two rival towns, both thoroughly Egyptian in their nomenclative association—Cairo and Thebes. Twenty years ago Thebes was the "seat of justice;" but Cairo was then beginning to entertain magnificent expectations, and her citizens wanted to have the Court House removed to their town. The contest waxed warm. The Thebans contended that Cairo was only a "daub of mud on the tail of the State," while Thebes was destined to hold the same relation to Alexander, that its ancient namesake did to Egypt in the time of Menes. [See Herodotus.] But to settle the dispute, the Legislature must be appealed to, and that involved the choice of a man favorable to the change. This narrowed the fight right down to a hot county canvass between the Theban and Cairoine interests.
A Cairo man conceived a scheme that was ahead of anything yet achieved by Uncle Abe's brigadiers in the way of "strategy." He wrapped a boulder in a green hide, making a perfectly round mass, to which he attached a mule; then night after night he drew the stone through sand and mud. By going on a straight line, the mule's tracks were concealed, and the track left, resembled that made by a huge serpent.
0041m
These tracks were mainly in the south end of the county, and caused an excitement that almost absorbed the election interest. Soon it was reported that Mrs. so and so had seen a huge snake. The wonder grew apace. Anon it was currently reported that two men had seen the great serpent five miles above Cairo. The excitement increased. Several daring hunters followed the track, of which new ones were made every night; but the trail always led into water and was lost. Several persons missed hogs and calves, which were surmised to have gone into the capacious maw of the serpent. Finally word was given out that a great hunt was to come off in the lower part of the county, and the rendezvous was appointed. On the morning, hundreds were there from all parts of the county, and dividing into squads they started to scour the country about. At night they returned from their snakeless hunt, but so anxious were the people to get rid of his snakeship, that they furnished an abundance of edibles and whisky. All were in hilarious spirits, determined to renew the hunt on the following morning. By daylight the hunters were again on the tramp, and men from the lower part of the county happened to fall into the squad.
About 3 o'clock in the afternoon, a squad of the bans hove in sight of a small village,i.e.one house a blacksmith shop and a grocery, where, seeing a large crowd assembled, they hurried up in expectation of seeing the dead monster.But the men were voting!
"Thunder!" cried a Theban, "this is election day, and I'll bet my bottom dollar we're sold!"
They started for the rendezvous and spread their suspicions; but so few reached their own precincts, that the Cairo man was elected.
Then the joke came out; but the Thebans couldn't see the "laughing place;" their rage and mortification was so intense.
Uncle Abe was a member of the Legislature, when an effort was made to change the county seat of Alexander; and though he liked the joke hugely by which the Thebans had been "diddled," he saw the honesty of the thing and so voted against any change.
When the rebellion had gone so far as to give the most hopeful some clear idea of its extent and malignancy, it chanced that J. A. Mc———d, a leading politician of Illinois, made a visit to Washington, and imitated his friend Douglas so far as to call upon Uncle Abe. The "shoot" that certain prominent Democrats gave indication of taking, by talking of reconstruction and a Northwestern Republic, gave the new administration some concern. Uncle Abe was very sociable with Logan, Mac, and a few of their "ilk." So Uncle Abe not only extended to Mac the hospitalities of the White House, but accompanied him on a visit to the arsenal. While there, their attention was drawn to some muskets which the speculators had furnished to Cameron, and which were thought (generally) very dangerous to those who used them.
Mac caught up one, and sighted along the barrel.
"Do that again, Mac," said Uncle Abe.
Mac complied. Uncle Abe was evidently struck with an idea, and Mac was anxious to know what it was like.
"Why, Mac," said Uncle Abe, "I was thinking if we could get all our soldiers to make up that kind of a face, that the rebels couldn't stand it a moment." Mac didn't relish Uncle Abe's joke, as he was hopefully in pursuit of the third wife; but he put the best face he could upon the matter, and remarked to Uncle Abe—
"Perhaps you'd better make me a Brigadier then!"
"And why not?" asked Uncle Abe.
Mac got his commission.
Uncle Abe was met one day near Springfield, by a conceited coxcomb, who had built him a house at some distance, and invited him to dinner. Uncle Abe did not much relish the Jackenape's acquaintance. In fact, as Justice Shallow has it, had "written him down an Ass." However, Abe enquired very minutely, where Snooks lived? "Thistle Grove," replied the verdant Snooks; "but there's no grove now, and not a single thistle!"
"Eh, what!" cries Uncle Abe, "not a single thistle! Then what on airth do you live on?"
In 1840 or '41, Uncle Abo was a member of the Illinois Legislature. The Capital had lately been removed from Vandalia to Springfield. The Legislature met in the Presbyterian church.
I have forgotten what measure was before the house; but it was one in which there were many members who did not wish to commit themselves. Uncle Abe was in this predicament. He sat near an open window, and when the clerk, calling the ayes and nays had got down to L's, Uncle Abe thrust his right leg out of the window, and was just drawing its long companion after it, when an anti-dodging member "seeing the game," shut the sash down and held Uncle Abe in a trap.
"Lincoln," called out the Clerk.
"Mr. Speaker," said Col. Thornton, "Mr. Lincoln isdividedon this question, and I move you that the sergeant at arms be sent to bring in that part of him that is out of the window."
Uncle Abe was "brought in" amid a universal titter, to his evident mortification.
In 1840, the Union generally went for Harrison; but Illinois, particularly, was democratic. When the Legislature met in the Fall of that year, the Whig members tried to break up thenewSession by absenting themselves from voting to adjourn the old Sessionsine die, so that they could Constitutionally meet the next Wednesday morning; the State Constitution requiring the Legislature to meet "the first Monday in December next, ensuing the election of members." After the breaking up of the morning Session, the Sergeant-at-arms hunted up the delinquent Whigs, and at 3 o'clock there was a quorum obtained, and the doors locked. The SpringfieldRegisterof Dec. 11, 1840, mentions this matter, but thinks Uncle Abe "come off without damage, as it was noticed that his legs reached nearly from the window to the ground!"
A proposition was afterwards humorously proposed, to add another story to the new State House, so that fugacious members would have to go down the water spouts if they ran!
Thirty years ago, when Springfield was blooming into the dignity of its Capitalive position, the American House was its great hotel, (and it isn't its smallest yet,) and the resort of those who loved to spend a few hours in the society of thebon vivantswho then assembled—Lincoln, Douglas, Shields, Ferguson, Herndon, (then a young man, but since the law partner of Uncle Abe,) and many others "not unknown to fame," could almost always be found here during the evening.
One evening as they were sitting in free converse in the bar-room, one of the chamber maids came in and informed the landlord that a man was under her bed.
It seems while stooping down to untie her gaiters, she saw a man under the bed. With rare presence of mind, she excused herself to her fellow servant as having forgotten some duty, and reported her discovery to the landlord. Boniface at once called for volunteers to secure the interloper. So eager were they for fun, that all volunteered. They surprised and captured the man, and brought him down to the bar-room; but what to do with him? was the next question. Springfield then had no vagabonds who made fees out of misfortunes—i.e. policemen—and it was determined to treat him with the prompt justice peculiar to that era. A court was therefore got together at once, all expectant of fun but the unfortunate culprit.
Judge Thomas Brown was decided upon to act as Judge; Melborn, the talented, but eccentric State Attorney, was detailed to prosecute; and Lincoln and Douglas to defend the prisoner. Dr. Wallace acted as Sheriff, and upon the jury were Dr. Merriman, * Gen. Shields, John Calhoun (of Lecompton memory,) Uri Manly, and many other well known personages.
Lawborn, though a regularly-educated and talented lawyer, took occasion not only to be as "funny as he could," but to imitate the prevailing style of oratory too common in Illinois—a style in which the Hard-shell-Baptist devil mingled with the rough dialect of the back-woodsman.
"May it please your Honor, and you, gentlemen of the Jury: The Legislature of Illinois, though it has legislated upon every subject it could think of, has omitted to pass any act against a man being born as ugly as he pleases. If such an idea ever occurred to my friend Lincoln here, when in the Legislature, I know he would at once dismiss it, not only as too personal, but as repugnant to his honest heart. As for myself, I like ugly men. An ugly man stands up on his own merits. Nature has done nothing for him, and he feels that he must labor to supply the deficit by amiability and good conduct generally. There is not an ugly man in this room but has felt this. A pretty man, on the contrary, trusts his face to supply head, heart and everything. He is an anomaly in nature, as though the productions had been at fault as to sex, and sought to correct it when too late. They are girl's first loves, and doting husband's jealous bane. I confess I don't like pretty men half so well as I do pretty women.
* Afterward murdered and robbed on the Pacific.
"No, gentlemen, ugliness is nothing. It is manners that is everything. The ugliest man that ever lived, never intentionally frightened a woman—nay, never was so unfortunate as to do so. But this creature, gentlemen of the Jury, this mendacious wretch whom you set in judgment upon—this creature, who would doubtless enter for a prize of beauty at a vanity fair—how has he failed in his duty to society? Why, gentlemen, by crawling under the bed upon which two fair damsels were about to expose their loveliness to Diana's envious gaze. Did he wish to woo them? Petruche's was rough in his wooing—this man was mean! Woman loves not surprises. Their hearts are fond of open sieges. This is the case of all women-kind. Maugre the slander of Hudibras:
"He that woos a maid,
Must lie, love, and flatter."
"It is amysterythat adds to beauty, and the woman who surrenders that to importunity or surprise, has lost half her vantage ground. The story of Guyges and Candaules' queen, if not paralleled here, is not without its moral. What else meant this wretch, gentlemen of the Jury, but to surprise these charming damsels when only armed with the light shield that the Huntress and the cotton plant throws over earthly beauty? Or, perhaps he meant more—his own guilty heart can only accuse him there.
"Gentlemen of the Jury, the failure of our Legislature to provide a specific punishment for such miscreants, as this—lecherous creatures, who steal upon woman amid the mysteries of the bed-room—is no reason why society should fold its arms and leave woman's hidden beauties to be anatomized by guilty eyes. No, gentlemen of the Jury, outraged decency cries for its victim, and here he tremblingly, guiltily stands.
"Gentlemen of the Jury, where are the spirits of the fathers of the Constitution? Are they not hovering over us in the air of the still summer day? Are they not wailing upon the winds that sweep over our prairies? Are they not heard in the sigh of the mountain pine? Are they not abroad in all lands, whispering to earth's downtrodden millions like a voice of hope? Yes, gentlemen of the Jury! and where was this creature then? Why, creeping under the bed of two girls, hazzarding the chance of overturning—well, it matters not."
—And much more, in a view that needed to be heard to be appreciated.
Lincoln followed, illustrating with anecdotes meet for the place and occasion, of which I recollect only the opening. "Gentlemen of the Jury," said he, "the remarks of my friend Lawborn about ugly men, comes home to my bosom like the sweet oders of a rose to its neighboring great sister, the cabbage. It was a grateful, a just tribute to that neglected class of the community—ugly men, I wish to say something for my client, although it must in candor be admitted, that he had 'gone to pot.' I don't see why we should throw the kettle after him; he may be the victim of circumstances; he looks very bashful now, and it may be the girls scared him; who knows? At least I claim for him the benefit of a doubt.
"Why, gentlemen, many of us have, or might have suffered from a concatenation of circumstances as strong as that under which my client labors. Let me relate a little personal anecdote in illustration. When I was making the secret canvass of this country, with my friend Cartwright, the Pioneer Preacher, we chanced to stop at the house of one of our old Kentucky farmers, whose log-cabin parlor, kitchen and hall were blended in one, and only separated at night by sundry blankets hung up between the beds. As we were candidates for the august Legislature of Illinois, our host treated us with the privacy of a blanket room. During the night I was awakened by some one throwing their leg over me with some force. I thought it was neighbor Cartright, and took hold of it to give it a toss back; but it didn't feel like one of his white oak legs, and while I was feeling it to ascertain the correctness of my half-awake doubts, a stifled scream thoroughly awakened me, and the leg was withdrawn. Why, gentlemen, would you believe me? It was the leg of our host's daughter! Imagine my position if you can! What anapparentbreach of hospitality! While I was imagining an excuse for my conduct, the 'old folks' struck a light, and the blanket between our bed and that of the buxom damsel, was discovered to have been pulled down! More damning proof, thought I. I feigned sleep, but kept one corner of my left eye open for observation. The blanket was soon fixed up, and I was greatly relieved to hear the damsel explain to her mother that she herself had invaded our bed while dreaming, caused by some un-digestable vegetables she had eaten for her supper. Our host was serene and affable in the morning, and I had no need to apologize; but, gentlemen, imagine what an escape I had, and have mercy on my client."
Uncle Abe made a side splitting speech all through, and Douglas followed with a "constitutional" argument.
The Jury returned a verdict of "guilty of scaring the girls," and the Judge sentenced the culprit to be whipped in the back yard, by the girls he had scared.
Dr. Wallace, the acting Sheriff, (no, a paymaster in the army,) went out and bought a cow hide, and the fellow was soon tied up to a post, and the girls made per force to give him thirty-nine well laid on.
The whole affair was a rich evening's divertisement, and cost nothing more than a few lost vest buttons and strained button holes.
It is needless to say that the fellow became anon estman from that day thenceforth.