Chapter VIII: Part 8

“A fellow who lived just out of town, on the bank of a large marsh, conceived a big idea in the money-making line. He took it to a prominent merchant, and began to develop his plans and specifications. ‘There are at least ten million frogs in that marsh near me, an’ I’ll just arrest a couple of carloads of them and hand them over to you. You can send them to the big cities and make lots of money for both of us. Frogs’ legs are great delicacies in the big towns, an’ not very plentiful. It won’t take me more’n two or three days to pick ‘em. They make so much noise my family can’t sleep, and by this deal I’ll get rid of a nuisance and gather in some cash.’

“The merchant agreed to the proposition, promised the fellow he would pay him well for the two carloads. Two days passed, then three, and finally two weeks were gone before the fellow showed up again, carrying a small basket. He looked weary and ‘done up,’ and he wasn’t talkative a bit. He threw the basket on the counter with the remark, ‘There’s your frogs.’

“‘You haven’t two carloads in that basket, have you?’ inquired the merchant.

“‘No,’ was the reply, ‘and there ain’t no two carloads in all this blasted world.’

“‘I thought you said there were at least ten millions of ‘em in that marsh near you, according to the noise they made,’ observed the merchant. ‘Your people couldn’t sleep because of ‘em.’

“‘Well,’ said the fellow, ‘accordin’ to the noise they made, there was, I thought, a hundred million of ‘em, but when I had waded and swum that there marsh day and night fer two blessed weeks, I couldn’t harvest but six. There’s two or three left yet, an’ the marsh is as noisy as it uster be. We haven’t catched up on any of our lost sleep yet. Now, you can have these here six, an’ I won’t charge you a cent fer ‘em.’

“You can see by this little yarn,” remarked the President, “that these boisterous people make too much noise in proportion to their numbers.”

KEEP PEGGING AWAY.

Being asked one time by an “anxious” visitor as to what he would do in certain contingencies--provided the rebellion was not subdued after three or four years of effort on the part of the Government?

“Oh,” replied the President, “there is no alternative but to keep ‘pegging’ away!”

BEWARE OF THE TAIL.

After the issue of the Emancipation Proclamation, Governor Morgan, of New York, was at the White House one day, when the President said:

“I do not agree with those who say that slavery is dead. We are like whalers who have been long on a chase--we have at last got the harpoon into the monster, but we must now look how we steer, or, with one ‘flop’ of his tail, he will yet send us all into eternity!”

“LINCOLN’S DREAM.”

President Lincoln was depicted as a headsman in a cartoon printed in “Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper,” on February 14, 1863, the title of the picture being “Lincoln’s Dreams; or, There’s a Good Time Coming.”

The cartoon, reproduced here, represents, on the right, the Union Generals who had been defeated by the Confederates in battle, and had suffered decapitation in consequence--McDowell, who lost at Bull Run; McClellan, who failed to take Richmond, when within twelve miles of that city and no opposition, comparatively; and Burnside, who was so badly whipped at Fredericksburg. To the left of the block, where the President is standing with the bloody axe in his hand, are shown the members of the Cabinet--Secretary of State Seward, Secretary of War Stanton, Secretary of the Navy Welles, and others--each awaiting his turn. This part of the “Dream” was never realized, however, as the President did not decapitate any of his Cabinet officers.

It was the idea of the cartoonist to hold Lincoln up as a man who would not countenance failure upon the part of subordinates, but visit the severest punishment upon those commanders who did not win victories. After Burnside’s defeat at Fredericksburg, he was relieved by Hooker, who suffered disaster at Chancellorsville; Hooker was relieved by Meade, who won at Gettysburg, but was refused promotion because he did not follow up and crush Lee; Rosecrans was all but defeated at Chickamauga, and gave way to Grant, who, of all the Union commanders, had never suffered defeat. Grant was Lincoln’s ideal fighting man, and the “Old Commander” was never superseded.

THERE WAS NO NEED OF A STORY.

Dr. Hovey, of Dansville, New York, thought he would call and see the President.

Upon arriving at the White House he found the President on horseback, ready for a start.

Approaching him, he said:

“President Lincoln, I thought I would call and see you before leaving the city, and hear you tell a story.”

The President greeted him pleasantly, and asked where he was from.

“From Western New York.”

“Well, that’s a good enough country without stories,” replied the President, and off he rode.

LINCOLN A MAN OF SIMPLE HABITS.

Lincoln’s habits at the White House were as simple as they were at his old home in Illinois.

He never alluded to himself as “President,” or as occupying “the Presidency.”

His office he always designated as “the place.”

“Call me Lincoln,” said he to a friend; “Mr. President” had become so very tiresome to him.

“If you see a newsboy down the street, send him up this way,” said he to a passenger, as he stood waiting for the morning news at his gate.

Friends cautioned him about exposing himself so openly in the midst of enemies; but he never heeded them.

He frequently walked the streets at night, entirely unprotected; and felt any check upon his movements a great annoyance.

He delighted to see his familiar Western friends; and he gave them always a cordial welcome.

He met them on the old footing, and fell at once into the accustomed habits of talk and story-telling.

An old acquaintance, with his wife, visited Washington. Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln proposed to these friends a ride in the Presidential carriage.

It should be stated in advance that the two men had probably never seen each other with gloves on in their lives, unless when they were used as protection from the cold.

The question of each--Lincoln at the White House, and his friend at the hotel--was, whether he should wear gloves.

Of course the ladies urged gloves; but Lincoln only put his in his pocket, to be used or not, according to the circumstances.

When the Presidential party arrived at the hotel, to take in their friends, they found the gentleman, overcome by his wife’s persuasions, very handsomely gloved.

The moment he took his seat he began to draw off the clinging kids, while Lincoln began to draw his on!

“No! no! no!” protested his friend, tugging at his gloves. “It is none of my doings; put up your gloves, Mr. Lincoln.”

So the two old friends were on even and easy terms, and had their ride after their old fashion.

HIS LAST SPEECH.

President Lincoln was reading the draft of a speech. Edward, the conservative but dignified butler of the White House, was seen struggling with Tad and trying to drag him back from the window from which was waving a Confederate flag, captured in some fight and given to the boy. Edward conquered and Tad, rushing to find his father, met him coming forward to make, as it proved, his last speech.

The speech began with these words, “We meet this evening, not in sorrow, but in gladness of heart.” Having his speech written in loose leaves, and being compelled to hold a candle in the other hand, he would let the loose leaves drop to the floor one by one. “Tad” picked them up as they fell, and impatiently called for more as they fell from his father’s hand.

FORGOT EVERYTHING HE KNEW BEFORE.

President Lincoln, while entertaining a few select friends, is said to have related the following anecdote of a man who knew too much:

He was a careful, painstaking fellow, who always wanted to be absolutely exact, and as a result he frequently got the ill-will of his less careful superiors.

During the administration of President Jackson there was a singular young gentleman employed in the Public Postoffice in Washington.

His name was G.; he was from Tennessee, the son of a widow, a neighbor of the President, on which account the old hero had a kind feeling for him, and always got him out of difficulties with some of the higher officials, to whom his singular interference was distasteful.

Among other things, it is said of him that while employed in the General Postoffice, on one occasion he had to copy a letter to Major H., a high official, in answer to an application made by an old gentleman in Virginia or Pennsylvania, for the establishment of a new postoffice.

The writer of the letter said the application could not be granted, in consequence of the applicant’s “proximity” to another office.

When the letter came into G.’s hand to copy, being a great stickler for plainness, he altered “proximity” to “nearness to.”

Major H. observed it, and asked G. why he altered his letter.

“Why,” replied G., “because I don’t think the man would understand what you mean by proximity.”

“Well,” said Major H., “try him; put in the ‘proximity’ again.”

In a few days a letter was received from the applicant, in which he very indignantly said that his father had fought for liberty in the second war for independence, and he should like to have the name of the scoundrel who brought the charge of proximity or anything else wrong against him.

“There,” said G., “did I not say so?”

G. carried his improvements so far that Mr. Berry, the Postmaster-General, said to him: “I don’t want you any longer; you know too much.”

Poor G. went out, but his old friend got him another place.

This time G.’s ideas underwent a change. He was one day very busy writing, when a stranger called in and asked him where the Patent Office was.

“I don’t know,” said G.

“Can you tell me where the Treasury Department is?” said the stranger.

“No,” said G.

“Nor the President’s house?”

“No.”

The stranger finally asked him if he knew where the Capitol was.

“No,” replied G.

“Do you live in Washington, sir?”

“Yes, sir,” said G.

“Good Lord! and don’t you know where the Patent Office, Treasury, President’s house and Capitol are?”

“Stranger,” said G., “I was turned out of the postoffice for knowing too much. I don’t mean to offend in that way again.

“I am paid for keeping this book.

“I believe I know that much; but if you find me knowing anything more you may take my head.”

“Good morning,” said the stranger.

LINCOLN BELIEVED IN EDUCATION.

“That every man may receive at least a moderate education, and thereby be enabled to read the histories of his own and other countries, by which he may duly appreciate the value of our free institutions, appears to be an object of vital importance; even on this account alone, to say nothing of the advantages and satisfaction to be derived from all being able to read the Scriptures and other works, both of a religious and moral nature, for themselves.

“For my part, I desire to see the time when education, by its means, morality, sobriety, enterprise and integrity, shall become much more general than at present, and should be gratified to have it in my power to contribute something to the advancement of any measure which might have a tendency to accelerate the happy period.”

LINCOLN ON THE DRED SCOTT DECISION.

In a speech at Springfield, Illinois, June 26th, 1857, Lincoln referred to the decision of Chief Justice Roger B. Taney, of the United States Supreme Court, in the Dred Scott case, in this manner:

“The Chief justice does not directly assert, but plainly assumes as a fact, that the public estimate of the black man is more favorable now than it was in the days of the Revolution.

“In those days, by common consent, the spread of the black man’s bondage in the new countries was prohibited; but now Congress decides that it will not continue the prohibition, and the Supreme Court decides that it could not if it would.

“In those days, our Declaration of Independence was held sacred by all, and thought to include all; but now, to aid in making the bondage of the negro universal and eternal, it is assailed and sneered at, and constructed and hawked at, and torn, till, if its framers could rise from their graves, they could not at all recognize it.

“All the powers of earth seem combining against the slave; Mammon is after him, ambition follows, philosophy follows, and the theology of the day is fast joining the cry.”

LINCOLN MADE MANY NOTABLE SPEECHES.

Abraham Lincoln made many notable addresses and speeches during his career previous to the time of his election to the Presidency.

However, beautiful in thought and expression as they were, they were not appreciated by those who heard and read them until after the people of the United States and the world had come to understand the man who delivered them.

Lincoln had the rare and valuable faculty of putting the most sublime feeling into his speeches; and he never found it necessary to incumber his wisest, wittiest and most famous sayings with a weakening mass of words.

He put his thoughts into the simplest language, so that all might comprehend, and he never said anything which was not full of the deepest meaning.

WHAT AILED THE BOYS.

Mr. Roland Diller, who was one of Mr. Lincoln’s neighbors in Springfield, tells the following:

“I was called to the door one day by the cries of children in the street, and there was Mr. Lincoln, striding by with two of his boys, both of whom were wailing aloud. ‘Why, Mr. Lincoln, what’s the matter with the boys?’ I asked.

“‘Just what’s the matter with the whole world,’ Lincoln replied. ‘I’ve got three walnuts, and each wants two.’”

TAD’S CONFEDERATE FLAG.

One of the prettiest incidents in the closing days of the Civil War occurred when the troops, ‘marching home again,’ passed in grand form, if with well-worn uniforms and tattered bunting, before the White House.

Naturally, an immense crowd had assembled on the streets, the lawns, porches, balconies, and windows, even those of the executive mansion itself being crowded to excess. A central figure was that of the President, Abraham Lincoln, who, with bared head, unfurled and waved our Nation’s flag in the midst of lusty cheers.

But suddenly there was an unexpected sight.

A small boy leaned forward and sent streaming to the air the banner of the boys in gray. It was an old flag which had been captured from the Confederates, and which the urchin, the President’s second son, Tad, had obtained possession of and considered an additional triumph to unfurl on this all-important day.

Vainly did the servant who had followed him to the window plead with him to desist. No, Master Tad, Pet of the White House, was not to be prevented from adding to the loyal demonstration of the hour.

To his surprise, however, the crowd viewed it differently. Had it floated from any other window in the capital that day, no doubt it would have been the target of contempt and abuse; but when the President, understanding what had happened, turned, with a smile on his grand, plain face, and showed his approval by a gesture and expression, cheer after cheer rent the air.

CALLED BLESSINGS ON THE AMERICAN WOMEN.

President Lincoln attended a Ladies’ Fair for the benefit of the Union soldiers, at Washington, March 16th, 1864.

In his remarks he said:

“I appear to say but a word.

“This extraordinary war in which we are engaged falls heavily upon all classes of people, but the most heavily upon the soldiers. 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 soldiers.

“In this extraordinary 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, and the chief agents in these fairs are the women of America!

“I am not accustomed to the use of 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 since the creation of the world in praise of women were applied to the women of America, it would not do them justice for their conduct during the war.

“I will close by saying, God bless the women of America!”

LINCOLN’S “ORDER NO. 252.”

After the United States had enlisted former negro slaves as soldiers to fight alongside the Northern troops for the maintenance of the integrity of the Union, so great was the indignation of the Confederate Government that President Davis declared he would not recognize blacks captured in battle and in uniform as prisoners of war. This meant that he would have them returned to their previous owners, have them flogged and fined for running away from their masters, or even shot if he felt like it. This attitude of the President of the Confederate States of America led to the promulgation of President Lincoln’s famous “Order No. 252,” which, in effect, was a notification to the commanding officers of the Southern forces that if negro prisoners of war were not treated as such, the Union commanders would retaliate. “Harper’s Weekly” of August 15th, 1863, contained a clever cartoon, which we reproduce, representing President Lincoln holding the South by the collar, while “Old Abe” shouts the following words of warning to Jeff Davis, who, cat-o’-nine-tails in hand, is in pursuit of a terrified little negro boy:

MR. LINCOLN: “Look here, Jeff Davis! If you lay a finger on that boy, to hurt him, I’ll lick this ugly cub of yours within an inch of his life!”

Much to the surprise of the Confederates, the negro soldiers fought valiantly; they were fearless when well led, obeyed orders without hesitation, were amenable to discipline, and were eager and anxious, at all times, to do their duty. In battle they were formidable opponents, and in using the bayonet were the equal of the best trained troops. The Southerners hated them beyond power of expression.

TALKED TO THE NEGROES OF RICHMOND.

The President walked through the streets of Richmond--without a guard except a few seamen--in company with his son “Tad,” and Admiral Porter, on April 4th, 1865, the day following the evacuation of the city.

Colored people gathered about him on every side, eager to see and thank their liberator. Mr. Lincoln addressed the following remarks to one of these gatherings:

“My poor friends, you are free--free as air. You can cast off the name of slave and trample upon it; it will come to you no more.

“Liberty is your birthright. God gave it to you as He gave it to others, and it is a sin that you have been deprived of it for so many years.

“But you must try to deserve this priceless boon. Let the world see that you merit it, and are able to maintain it by your good work.

“Don’t let your joy carry you into excesses; learn the laws, and obey them. Obey God’s commandments, and thank Him for giving you liberty, for to Him you owe all things.

“There, now, let me pass on; I have but little time to spare.

“I want to see the Capitol, and must return at once to Washington to secure to you that liberty which you seem to prize so highly.”

“ABE” ADDED A SAVING CLAUSE.

Lincoln fell in love with Miss Mary S. Owens about 1833 or so, and, while she was attracted toward him she was not passionately fond of him.

Lincoln’s letter of proposal of marriage, sent by him to Miss Owens, while singular, unique, and decidedly unconventional, was certainly not very ardent. He, after the fashion of the lawyer, presented the matter very cautiously, and pleaded his own cause; then presented her side of the case, advised her not “to do it,” and agreed to abide by her decision.

Miss Owens respected Lincoln, but promptly rejected him--really very much to “Abe’s” relief.

HOW “JACK” WAS “DONE UP.”

Not far from New Salem, Illinois, at a place called Clary’s Grove, a gang of frontier ruffians had established headquarters, and the champion wrestler of “The Grove” was “Jack” Armstrong, a bully of the worst type.

Learning that Abraham was something of a wrestler himself, “Jack” sent him a challenge. At that time and in that community a refusal would have resulted in social and business ostracism, not to mention the stigma of cowardice which would attach.

It was a great day for New Salem and “The Grove” when Lincoln and Armstrong met. Settlers within a radius of fifty miles flocked to the scene, and the wagers laid were heavy and many. Armstrong proved a weakling in the hands of the powerful Kentuckian, and “Jack’s” adherents were about to mob Lincoln when the latter’s friends saved him from probable death by rushing to the rescue.

ANGELS COULDN’T SWEAR IT RIGHT.

The President was once speaking about an attack made on him by the Congressional Committee on the Conduct of the War for a certain alleged blunder in the Southwest--the matter involved being one which had fallen directly under the observation of the army officer to whom he was talking, who possessed official evidence completely upsetting all the conclusions of the Committee.

“Might it not be well for me,” queried the officer, “to set this matter right in a letter to some paper, stating the facts as they actually transpired?”

“Oh, no,” replied the President, “at least, not now. If I were to try to read, much less answer, all the attacks made on me, this shop might as well be closed for any other business. I do the very best I know how the very best I can; and I mean to keep doing so until the end. If the end brings me out all right, what is said against me won’t amount to anything. If the end brings me out wrong, ten thousand angels swearing I was right would make no difference.”

“MUST GO, AND GO TO STAY.”

Ward Hill Lamon was President Lincoln’s Cerberus, his watch dog, guardian, friend, companion and confidant. Some days before Lincoln’s departure for Washington to be inaugurated, he wrote to Lamon at Bloomington, that he desired to see him at once. He went to Springfield, and Lincoln said:

“Hill, on the 11th I go to Washington, and I want you to go along with me. Our friends have already asked me to send you as Consul to Paris. You know I would cheerfully give you anything for which our friends may ask or which you may desire, but it looks as if we might have war.

“In that case I want you with me. In fact, I must have you. So get yourself ready and come along. It will be handy to have you around. If there is to be a fight, I want you to help me to do my share of it, as you have done in times past. You must go, and go to stay.”

This is Lamon’s version of it.

LINCOLN WASN’T BUYING NOMINATIONS.

To a party who wished to be empowered to negotiate reward for promises of influence in the Chicago Convention, 1860, Mr. Lincoln replied:

“No, gentlemen; I have not asked the nomination, and I will not now buy it with pledges.

“If I am nominated and elected, I shall not go into the Presidency as the tool of this man or that man, or as the property of any factor or clique.”

HE ENVIED THE SOLDIER AT THE FRONT.

After some very bad news had come in from the army in the field, Lincoln remarked to Schuyler Colfax:

“How willingly would I exchange places to-day with the soldier who sleeps on the ground in the Army of the Potomac!”

DON’T TRUST TOO FAR

In the campaign of 1852, Lincoln, in reply to Douglas’ speech, wherein he spoke of confidence in Providence, replied: “Let us stand by our candidate (General Scott) as faithfully as he has always stood by our country, and I much doubt if we do not perceive a slight abatement of Judge Douglas’ confidence in Providence as well as the people. I suspect that confidence is not more firmly fixed with the judge than it was with the old woman whose horse ran away with her in a buggy. She said she ‘trusted in Providence till the britchen broke,’ and then she ‘didn’t know what in airth to do.’”

HE’D “RISK THE DICTATORSHIP.”

Lincoln’s great generosity to his leaders was shown when, in January, 1863, he assigned “Fighting Joe” Hooker to the command of the Army of the Potomac. Hooker had believed in a military dictatorship, and it was an open secret that McClellan might have become such had he possessed the nerve. Lincoln, however, was not bothered by this prattle, as he did not think enough of it to relieve McClellan of his command. The President said to Hooker:

“I have heard, in such a way as to believe it, of your recently saying that both the army and the Government needed a dictator. Of course, it was not for this, but in spite of it, that I have given you the command. Only those generals who gain success can be dictators.

“What I now ask of you is military success, and I will risk the dictatorship.”

Lincoln also believed Hooker had not given cordial support to General Burnside when he was in command of the army. In Lincoln’s own peculiarly plain language, he told Hooker that he had done “a great wrong to the country and to a most meritorious and honorable brother officer.”

“MAJOR GENERAL, I RECKON.”

At one time the President had the appointment of a large additional number of brigadier and major generals. Among the immense number of applications, Mr. Lincoln came upon one wherein the claims of a certain worthy (not in the service at all), “for a generalship” were glowingly set forth. But the applicant didn’t specify whether he wanted to be brigadier or major general.

The President observed this difficulty, and solved it by a lucid indorsement. The clerk, on receiving the paper again, found written across its back, “Major General, I reckon. A. Lincoln.”

WOULD SEE THE TRACKS.

Judge Herndon, Lincoln’s law partner, said that he never saw Lincoln more cheerful than on the day previous to his departure from Springfield for Washington, and Judge Gillespie, who visited him a few days earlier, found him in excellent spirits.

“I told him that I believed it would do him good to get down to Washington,” said Herndon.

“I know it will,” Lincoln replied. “I only wish I could have got there to lock the door before the horse was stolen. But when I get to the spot, I can find the tracks.”

“ABE” GAVE HER A “SURE TIP.”

If all the days Lincoln attended school were added together, they would not make a single year’s time, and he never studied grammar or geography or any of the higher branches. His first teacher in Indiana was Hazel Dorsey, who opened a school in a log schoolhouse a mile and a half from the Lincoln cabin. The building had holes for windows, which were covered over with greased paper to admit light. The roof was just high enough for a man to stand erect. It did not take long to demonstrate that “Abe” was superior to any scholar in his class. His next teacher was Andrew Crawford, who taught in the winter of 1822-3, in the same little schoolhouse. “Abe” was an excellent speller, and it is said that he liked to show off his knowledge, especially if he could help out his less fortunate schoolmates. One day the teacher gave out the word “defied.” A large class was on the floor, but it seemed that no one would be able to spell it. The teacher declared he would keep the whole class in all day and night if “defied” was not spelled correctly.

When the word came around to Katy Roby, she was standing where she could see young “Abe.” She started, “d-e-f,” and while trying to decide whether to spell the word with an “i” or a “y,” she noticed that Abe had his finger on his eye and a smile on his face, and instantly took the hint. She spelled the word correctly and school was dismissed.

THE PRESIDENT HAD KNOWLEDGE OF HIM.

Lincoln never forgot anyone or anything.

At one of the afternoon receptions at the White House a stranger shook hands with him, and, as he did so, remarked casually, that he was elected to Congress about the time Mr. Lincoln’s term as representative expired, which happened many years before.

“Yes,” said the President, “You are from--” (mentioning the State). “I remember reading of your election in a newspaper one morning on a steamboat going down to Mount Vernon.”

At another time a gentleman addressed him, saying, “I presume, Mr. President, you have forgotten me?”

“No,” was the prompt reply; “your name is Flood. I saw you last, twelve years ago, at--” (naming the place and the occasion).

“I am glad to see,” he continued, “that the Flood goes on.”

Subsequent to his re-election a deputation of bankers from various sections were introduced one day by the Secretary of the Treasury.

After a few moments of general conversation, Lincoln turned to one of them and said:

“Your district did not give me so strong a vote at the last election as it did in 1860.”

“I think, sir, that you must be mistaken,” replied the banker. “I have the impression that your majority was considerably increased at the last election.”

“No,” rejoined the President, “you fell off about six hundred votes.”

Then taking down from the bookcase the official canvass of 1860 and 1864, he referred to the vote of the district named, and proved to be quite right in his assertion.

ONLY HALF A MAN.

As President Lincoln, arm in arm with ex-President Buchanan, entered the Capitol, and passed into the Senate Chamber, filled to overflowing with Senators, members of the Diplomatic Corps, and visitors, the contrast between the two men struck every observer.

“Mr. Buchanan was so withered and bowed with age,” wrote George W. Julian, of Indiana, who was among the spectators, “that in contrast with the towering form of Mr. Lincoln he seemed little more than half a man.”

GRANT CONGRATULATED LINCOLN.

As soon as the result of the Presidential election of 1864 was known, General Grant telegraphed from City Point his congratulations, and added that “the election having passed off quietly... is a victory worth more to the country than a battle won.”

“BRUTUS AND CAESAR.”

London “Punch” persistently maintained throughout the War for the Union that the question of what to do with the blacks was the most bothersome of all the problems President Lincoln had to solve. “Punch” thought the Rebellion had its origin in an effort to determine whether there should or should not be slavery in the United States, and was fought with this as the main end in view. “Punch” of August 15th, 1863, contained the cartoon reproduced on this page, the title being “Brutus and Caesar.”

President Lincoln was pictured as Brutus, while the ghost of Caesar, which appeared in the tent of the American Brutus during the dark hours of the night, was represented in the shape of a husky and anything but ghost-like African, whose complexion would tend to make the blackest tar look like skimmed milk in comparison. This was the text below the cartoon: (From the American Edition of Shakespeare.) The Tent of Brutus (Lincoln). Night. Enter the Ghost of Caesar.

BRUTUS: “Wall, now! Do tell! Who’s you?”

CAESAR: “I am dy ebil genus, Massa Linking. Dis child am awful impressional!”

“Punch’s” cartoons were decidedly unfriendly in tone toward President Lincoln, some of them being not only objectionable in the display of bad taste, but offensive and vulgar. It is true that after the assassination of the President, “Punch,” in illustrations, paid marked and deserved tribute to the memory of the Great Emancipator, but it had little that was good to say of him while he was among the living and engaged in carrying out the great work for which he was destined to win eternal fame.

HOW STANTON GOT INTO THE CABINET.

President Lincoln, well aware of Stanton’s unfriendliness, was surprised when Secretary of the Treasury Chase told him that Stanton had expressed the opinion that the arrest of the Confederate Commissioners, Mason and Slidell, was legal and justified by international law. The President asked Secretary Chase to invite Stanton to the White House, and Stanton came. Mr. Lincoln thanked him for the opinion he had expressed, and asked him to put it in writing.

Stanton complied, the President read it carefully, and, after putting it away, astounded Stanton by offering him the portfolio of War. Stanton was a Democrat, had been one of the President’s most persistent vilifiers, and could not realize, at first, that Lincoln meant what he said. He managed, however to say:

“I am both surprised and embarrassed, Mr. President, and would ask a couple of days to consider this most important matter.”

Lincoln fully understood what was going on in Stanton’s mind, and then said:

“This is a very critical period in the life of the nation, Mr. Stanton, as you are well aware, and I well know you are as much interested in sustaining the government as myself or any other man. This is no time to consider mere party issues. The life of the nation is in danger. I need the best counsellors around me. I have every confidence in your judgment, and have concluded to ask you to become one of my counsellors. The office of the Secretary of War will soon be vacant, and I am anxious to have you take Mr. Cameron’s place.”

Stanton decided to accept.

“ABE” LIKE HIS FATHER.

“Abe” Lincoln’s father was never at loss for an answer. An old neighbor of Thomas Lincoln--“Abe’s” father--was passing the Lincoln farm one day, when he saw “Abe’s” father grubbing up some hazelnut bushes, and said to him: “Why, Grandpap, I thought you wanted to sell your farm?”

“And so I do,” he replied, “but I ain’t goin’ to let my farm know it.”

“‘Abe’s’ jes’ like his father,” the old ones would say.

“NO MOON AT ALL.”

One of the most notable of Lincoln’s law cases was that in which he defended William D. Armstrong, charged with murder. The case was one which was watched during its progress with intense interest, and it had a most dramatic ending.

The defendant was the son of Jack and Hannah Armstrong. The father was dead, but Hannah, who had been very motherly and helpful to Lincoln during his life at New Salem, was still living, and asked Lincoln to defend him. Young Armstrong had been a wild lad, and was often in bad company.

The principal witness had sworn that he saw young Armstrong strike the fatal blow, the moon being very bright at the time.

Lincoln brought forward the almanac, which showed that at the time the murder was committed there was no moon at all. In his argument, Lincoln’s speech was so feelingly made that at its close all the men in the jury-box were in tears. It was just half an hour when the jury returned a verdict of acquittal.

Lincoln would accept no fee except the thanks of the anxious mother.

“ABE” A SUPERB MIMIC.

Lincoln’s reading in his early days embraced a wide range. He was particularly fond of all stories containing fun, wit and humor, and every one of these he came across he learned by heart, thus adding to his personal store.

He improved as a reciter and retailer of the stories he had read and heard, and as the reciter of tales of his own invention, and he had ready and eager auditors.

Judge Herndon, in his “Abraham Lincoln,” relates that as a mimic Lincoln was unequalled. An old neighbor said: “His laugh was striking. Such awkward gestures belonged to no other man. They attracted universal attention, from the old and sedate down to the schoolboy. Then, in a few moments, he was as calm and thoughtful as a judge on the bench, and as ready to give advice on the most important matters; fun and gravity grew on him alike.”

WHY HE WAS CALLED “HONEST ABE.”

During the year Lincoln was in Denton Offutt’s store at New Salem, that gentleman, whose business was somewhat widely and unwisely spread about the country, ceased to prosper in his finances and finally failed. The store was shut up, the mill was closed, and Abraham Lincoln was out of business.

The year had been one of great advance, in many respects. He had made new and valuable acquaintances, read many books, mastered the grammar of his own tongue, won multitudes of friends, and became ready for a step still further in advance.

Those who could appreciate brains respected him, and those whose ideas of a man related to his muscles were devoted to him. It was while he was performing the work of the store that he acquired the sobriquet of “Honest Abe”--a characterization he never dishonored, and an abbreviation that he never outgrew.

He was judge, arbitrator, referee, umpire, authority, in all disputes, games and matches of man-flesh, horse-flesh, a pacificator in all quarrels; everybody’s friend; the best-natured, the most sensible, the best-informed, the most modest and unassuming, the kindest, gentlest, roughest, strongest, best fellow in all New Salem and the region round about.

“ABE’S” NAME REMAINED ON THE SIGN.

Enduring friendship and love of old associations were prominent characteristics of President Lincoln. When about to leave Springfield for Washington, he went to the dingy little law office which had sheltered his saddest hours.

He sat down on the couch, and said to his law partner, Judge Herndon:

“Billy, you and I have been together for more than twenty years, and have never passed a word. Will you let my name stay on the old sign until I come back from Washington?”

The tears started to Herndon’s eyes. He put out his hand. “Mr. Lincoln,” said he, “I never will have any other partner while you live”; and to the day of assassination, all the doings of the firm were in the name of “Lincoln & Herndon.”

VERY HOMELY AT FIRST SIGHT.

Early in January, 1861, Colonel Alex. K. McClure, of Philadelphia, received a telegram from President-elect Lincoln, asking him (McClure) to visit him at Springfield, Illinois. Colonel McClure described his disappointment at first sight of Lincoln in these words:

“I went directly from the depot to Lincoln’s house and rang the bell, which was answered by Lincoln himself opening the door. I doubt whether a wholly concealed my disappointment at meeting him.

“Tall, gaunt, ungainly, ill clad, with a homeliness of manner that was unique in itself, I confess that my heart sank within me as I remembered that this was the man chosen by a great nation to become its ruler in the gravest period of its history.

“I remember his dress as if it were but yesterday--snuff-colored and slouchy pantaloons, open black vest, held by a few brass buttons; straight or evening dresscoat, with tightly fitting sleeves to exaggerate his long, bony arms, and all supplemented by an awkwardness that was uncommon among men of intelligence.

“Such was the picture I met in the person of Abraham Lincoln. We sat down in his plainly furnished parlor, and were uninterrupted during the nearly four hours that I remained with him, and little by little, as his earnestness, sincerity and candor were developed in conversation, I forgot all the grotesque qualities which so confounded me when I first greeted him.”

THE MAN TO TRUST.

“If a man is honest in his mind,” said Lincoln one day, long before he became President, “you are pretty safe in trusting him.”

“WUZ GOIN’ TER BE ‘HITCHED.”’

“Abe’s” nephew--or one of them--related a story in connection with Lincoln’s first love (Anne Rutledge), and his subsequent marriage to Miss Mary Todd. This nephew was a plain, every-day farmer, and thought everything of his uncle, whose greatness he quite thoroughly appreciated, although he did not pose to any extreme as the relative of a President of the United States.

Said he one day, in telling his story:

“Us child’en, w’en we heerd Uncle ‘Abe’ wuz a-goin’ to be married, axed Gran’ma ef Uncle ‘Abe’ never hed hed a gal afore, an’ she says, sez she, ‘Well, “Abe” wuz never a han’ nohow to run ‘round visitin’ much, or go with the gals, neither, but he did fall in love with a Anne Rutledge, who lived out near Springfield, an’ after she died he’d come home an’ ev’ry time he’d talk ‘bout her, he cried dreadful. He never could talk of her nohow ‘thout he’d jes’ cry an’ cry, like a young feller.’

“Onct he tol’ Gran’ma they wuz goin’ ter be hitched, they havin’ promised each other, an’ thet is all we ever heered ‘bout it. But, so it wuz, that arter Uncle ‘Abe’ hed got over his mournin’, he wuz married ter a woman w’ich hed lived down in Kentuck.

“Uncle ‘Abe’ hisself tol’ us he wuz married the nex’ time he come up ter our place, an’ w’en we ast him why he didn’t bring his wife up to see us, he said: ‘She’s very busy and can’t come.’

“But we knowed better’n that. He wuz too proud to bring her up, ’cause nothin’ would suit her, nohow. She wuzn’t raised the way we wuz, an’ wuz different from us, and we heerd, tu, she wuz as proud as cud be.

“No, an’ he never brought none uv the child’en, neither.

“But then, Uncle ‘Abe,’ he wuzn’t to blame. We never thought he wuz stuck up.”

HE PROPOSED TO SAVE THE UNION.

Replying to an editorial written by Horace Greeley, the President wrote:

“My paramount object is to save the Union, and not either to save or to destroy slavery.

“If I could save the Union without freeing any slave, I would do it.

“If I could save it by freeing all the slaves, I would do it; and if I could do it by freeing some and leaving others alone, I would also do that.

“What I do about slavery and the colored race, I do because I believe it helps to save this Union; and what I forbear, I forbear because I do not believe it would help to save the Union.

“I shall do less whenever I shall believe what I am doing hurts the cause, and I shall do more whenever I believe doing more will help the cause.”

THE SAME OLD RUM.

One of President Lincoln’s friends, visiting at the White House, was finding considerable fault with the constant agitation in Congress of the slavery question. He remarked that, after the adoption of the Emancipation policy, he had hoped for something new.

“There was a man down in Maine,” said the President, in reply, “who kept a grocery store, and a lot of fellows used to loaf around for their toddy. He only gave ‘em New England rum, and they drank pretty considerable of it. But after awhile they began to get tired of that, and kept asking for something new--something new--all the time. Well, one night, when the whole crowd were around, the grocer brought out his glasses, and says he, ‘I’ve got something New for you to drink, boys, now.’

“‘Honor bright?’ said they.

“‘Honor bright,’ says he, and with that he sets out a jug. ‘Thar’ says he, ‘that’s something new; it’s New England rum!’ says he.

“Now,” remarked the President, in conclusion, “I guess we’re a good deal like that crowd, and Congress is a good deal like that store-keeper!”

SAVED LINCOLN’S LIFE

When Mr. Lincoln was quite a small boy he met with an accident that almost cost him his life. He was saved by Austin Gollaher, a young playmate. Mr. Gollaher lived to be more than ninety years of age, and to the day of his death related with great pride his boyhood association with Lincoln.

“Yes,” Mr. Gollaher once said, “the story that I once saved Abraham Lincoln’s life is true. He and I had been going to school together for a year or more, and had become greatly attached to each other. Then school disbanded on account of there being so few scholars, and we did not see each other much for a long while.

“One Sunday my mother visited the Lincolns, and I was taken along. ‘Abe’ and I played around all day. Finally, we concluded to cross the creek to hunt for some partridges young Lincoln had seen the day before. The creek was swollen by a recent rain, and, in crossing on the narrow footlog, ‘Abe’ fell in. Neither of us could swim. I got a long pole and held it out to ‘Abe,’ who grabbed it. Then I pulled him ashore.

“He was almost dead, and I was badly scared. I rolled and pounded him in good earnest. Then I got him by the arms and shook him, the water meanwhile pouring out of his mouth. By this means I succeeded in bringing him to, and he was soon all right.

“Then a new difficulty confronted us. If our mothers discovered our wet clothes they would whip us. This we dreaded from experience, and determined to avoid. It was June, the sun was very warm, and we soon dried our clothing by spreading it on the rocks about us. We promised never to tell the story, and I never did until after Lincoln’s tragic end.”

WOULD NOT RECALL A SINGLE WORD.

In conversation with some friends at the White House on New Year’s evening, 1863, President Lincoln said, concerning his Emancipation Proclamation:

“The signature looks a little tremulous, for my hand was tired, but my resolution was firm.

“I told them in September, if they did not return to their allegiance, and cease murdering our soldiers, I would strike at this pillar of their strength.

“And now the promise shall be kept, and not one word of it will I ever recall.”

OLD BROOM BEST AFTER ALL.

During the time the enemies of General Grant were making their bitterest attacks upon him, and demanding that the President remove him from command, “Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper,” of June 13, 1863, came out with the cartoon reproduced. The text printed under the picture was to the following effect:

OLD ABE: “Greeley be hanged! I want no more new brooms. I begin to think that the worst thing about my old ones was in not being handled right.”

The old broom the President holds in his right hand is labeled “Grant.” The latter had captured Fort Donelson, defeated the Confederates at Shiloh, Iuka, Port Gibson, and other places, and had Vicksburg in his iron grasp. When the demand was made that Lincoln depose Grant, the President answered, “I can’t spare this man; he fights!” Grant never lost a battle and when he found the enemy he always fought him. McClellan, Burnside, Pope and Hooker had been found wanting, so Lincoln pinned his faith to Grant. As noted in the cartoon, Horace Greeley, editor of the New York Tribune, Thurlow Weed, and others wanted Lincoln to try some other new brooms, but President Lincoln was wearied with defeats, and wanted a few victories to offset them. Therefore; he stood by Grant, who gave him victories.

GOD WITH A LITTLE “g.”

Abraham Lincoln
his hand and pen
he will be good
but god Knows When

These lines were found written in young Lincoln’s own hand at the bottom of a page whereon he had been ciphering. Lincoln always wrote a clear, regular “fist.” In this instance he evidently did not appreciate the sacredness of the name of the Deity, when he used a little “g.”

Lincoln once said he did not remember the time when he could not write.

“ABE’S” LOG.

It was the custom in Sangamon for the “menfolks” to gather at noon and in the evening, when resting, in a convenient lane near the mill. They had rolled out a long peeled log, on which they lounged while they whittled and talked.

Lincoln had not been long in Sangamon before he joined this circle. At once he became a favorite by his jokes and good-humor. As soon as he appeared at the assembly ground the men would start him to story-telling. So irresistibly droll were his “yarns” that whenever he’d end up in his unexpected way the boys on the log would whoop and roll off. The result of the rolling off was to polish the log like a mirror. The men, recognizing Lincoln’s part in this polishing, christened their seat “Abe’s log.”

Long after Lincoln had disappeared from Sangamon, “Abe’s log” remained, and until it had rotted away people pointed it out, and repeated the droll stories of the stranger.

IT WAS A FINE FIZZLE.

President Lincoln, in company with General Grant, was inspecting the Dutch Gap Canal at City Point. “Grant, do you know what this reminds me of? Out in Springfield, Ill., there was a blacksmith who, not having much to do, took a piece of soft iron and attempted to weld it into an agricultural implement, but discovered that the iron would not hold out; then he concluded it would make a claw hammer; but having too much iron, attempted to make an ax, but decided after working awhile that there was not enough iron left. Finally, becoming disgusted, he filled the forge full of coal and brought the iron to a white heat; then with his tongs he lifted it from the bed of coals, and thrusting it into a tub of water near by, exclaimed: ‘Well, if I can’t make anything else of you, I will make a fizzle, anyhow.’” “I was afraid that was about what we had done with the Dutch Gap Canal,” said General Grant.

A TEETOTALER.

When Lincoln was in the Black Hawk War as captain, the volunteer soldiers drank in with delight the jests and stories of the tall captain. Aesop’s Fables were given a new dress, and the tales of the wild adventures that he had brought from Kentucky and Indiana were many, but his inspiration was never stimulated by recourse to the whisky jug.

When his grateful and delighted auditors pressed this on him he had one reply: “Thank you, I never drink it.”

NOT TO “OPEN SHOP” THERE.

President Lincoln was passing down Pennsylvania avenue in Washington one day, when a man came running after him, hailed him, and thrust a bundle of papers in his hands.

It angered him not a little, and he pitched the papers back, saying, “I’m not going to open shop here.”

WE HAVE LIBERTY OF ALL KINDS.

Lincoln delivered a remarkable speech at Springfield, Illinois, when but twenty-eight years of age, upon the liberty possessed by the people of the United States.

In part, he said:

“In the great journal of things happening under the sun, we, the American people, find our account running under date of the nineteenth century of the Christian era.

“We find ourselves in the peaceful possession of the fairest portion of the earth as regards extent of territory, fertility of soil, and salubrity of climate.

“We find ourselves under the government of a system of political institutions conducing more essentially to the ends of civil and religious liberty than any of which history of former times tells us.

“We, when mounting the stage of existence, found ourselves the legal inheritors of these fundamental blessings.

“We toiled not in the acquisition or establishment of them; they are a legacy bequeathed to us by a once hardy, brave, and patriotic, but now lamented and departed race of ancestors.

“Theirs was the task (and nobly did they perform it) to possess themselves, us, of this goodly land, to uprear upon its hills and valleys a political edifice of liberty and equal rights; ‘tis ours to transmit these--the former unprofaned by the foot of an intruder, the latter undecayed by the lapse of time and untorn by usurpation--to the generation that fate shall permit the world to know.

“This task, gratitude to our fathers, justice to ourselves, duty to posterity--all imperatively require us faithfully to perform.

“How, then, shall we perform it? At what point shall we expect the approach of danger?

“Shall we expect some trans-Atlantic military giant to step the ocean and crush us at a blow?