The Story of Young Abraham Lincoln Part 16

"'That isn't it, Mr. Man. That isn't it. I yield to no man in love to my wife and babies, and I provide enough for them. Most of those who bring their cases to me need the money more than I do. Other lawyers rob them.

They act like a pack of wolves. They have no mercy. So when a needy fellow comes to me in his trouble--sometimes it's a poor widow--I can't take much from them. I'm not much of a Shylock. I always try to get them to settle it without going into court. I tell them if they will make it up among themselves I won't charge them anything.'

"'Well, Mr. Lincoln,' said father with a laugh, 'if they were all like you there would be no need of lawyers.'

"'Well,' exclaimed Lawyer Lincoln with a quizzical inflection which meant much. 'Look out for the millennium, Mr. Man--still, as a great favor, I'll charge you a fat fee if I ever find that fellow and can get anything out of him. But that's like promising to give you half of the first dollar I find floating up the Sangamon on a grindstone, isn't it?

I'll take a big slice, though, out of the grindstone itself, if you say so,' and the tall attorney went out with the peculiar laugh that afterward became world-famous.

"Not long afterward, while in Bloomington, out on the circuit, Mr.

Lincoln ran across the man who had disappeared from Springfield 'between two days,' carrying on an apparently prosperous business under an a.s.sumed name. Following the man to his office and managing to talk with him alone, the lawyer, by means of threats, made the man go right to the bank and draw out the whole thousand then. It meant payment in full or the penitentiary. The man understood it and went white as a sheet. In all his sympathy for the poor and needy, Mr. Lincoln had no pity on the flouris.h.i.+ng criminal. Money could not purchase the favor of Lincoln.

"Well, I hardly know which half of that thousand dollars father was gladder to get, but I honestly believe he was more pleased on Mr.

Lincoln's account than on his own.

"'Let me give you your five hundred dollars before I change my mind,' he said to the attorney.

"'One hundred dollars is all I'll take out of that,' Mr. Lincoln replied emphatically. 'It was no trouble, and--and I haven't earned even that much.'

"'But Mr. Lincoln,' my father demurred, 'you promised to take half.'

"'Yes, but you got my word under false pretenses, as it were. Neither of us had the least idea I would collect the bill even if I ever found the fellow.'

"As he would not accept more than one hundred dollars that day, father wouldn't give him any of the money due, for fear the too scrupulous attorney would give him a receipt in full for collecting. Finally, Mr.

Lincoln went away after yielding enough to say he might accept two hundred and fifty dollars sometime in a pinch of some sort.

"The occasion was not long delayed--but it was not because of illness or any special necessity in his own family. His young partner, 'Billy'

Herndon, had been carousing with several of his cronies in a saloon around on Fourth Street, and the gang had broken mirrors, decanters and other things in their drunken spree. The proprietor, tired of such work, had had them all arrested.

"Mr. Lincoln, always alarmed when Billy failed to appear at the usual hour in the morning, went in search of him, and found him and his partners in distress, locked up in the calaboose. The others were helpless, unable to pay or to promise to pay for any of the damages, so it devolved on Mr. Lincoln to raise the whole two hundred and fifty dollars the angry saloon keeper demanded.

"He came into our office out of breath and said sheepishly:

"'I reckon I can use that two-fifty now.'

"'Check or currency?' asked father.

"'Currency, if you've got it handy.'

"'Give Mr. Lincoln two hundred and fifty dollars,' father called to a clerk in the office.

"There was a moment's pause, during which my father refrained from asking any questions, and Mr. Lincoln was in no mood to give information. As soon as the money was brought, the tall attorney seized the bills and stalked out without counting it or saying anything but 'Thankee, Mr. Man,' and hurried diagonally across the square toward the Court House, clutching the precious banknotes in his bony talons.

"Father saw him cross the street so fast that the tails of his long coat stood out straight behind; then go up the Court House steps, two at a time, and disappear.

"We learned afterward what he did with the money. Of course, Bill Herndon was penitent and promised to mend his ways, and, of course, Mr.

Lincoln believed him. He took the money very much against his will, even against his principles--thinking it might save his junior partner from the drunkard's grave. But the heart of Abraham Lincoln was hoping against hope."

CHAPTER XVI

HIS KINDNESS OF HEART

PUTTING TWO YOUNG BIRDS BACK IN THE NEST

Mr. Lincoln's tender-heartedness was the subject of much amus.e.m.e.nt among his fellow attorneys. One day, while out riding with several friends, they missed Lincoln. One of them, having heard the distressed cries of two young birds that had fallen from the nest, surmised that this had something to do with Mr. Lincoln's disappearance. The man was right.

Lincoln had hitched his horse and climbed the fence into the thicket where the fledglings were fluttering on the ground in great fright. He caught the young birds and tenderly carried them about until he found their nest. Climbing the tree he put the birdlings back where they belonged. After an hour Mr. Lincoln caught up with his companions, who laughed at him for what they called his "childishness." He answered them earnestly:

"Gentlemen, you may laugh, but I could not have slept tonight if I had not saved those little birds. The mother's cries and theirs would have rung in my ears."

LAWYER LINCOLN, IN A NEW SUIT OF CLOTHES, RESCUING A PIG STUCK IN THE MUD

Lawyer Lincoln rode from one county-seat to another, on the Eighth Judicial Circuit of Illinois, either on the back of a raw-boned horse, or in a rickety buggy drawn by the same old "crowbait," as his legal friends called the animal. The judge and lawyers of the several courts traveled together and whiled away the time chatting and joking. Of course, Abraham Lincoln was in great demand because of his unfailing humor.

One day he appeared in a new suit of clothes. This was such a rare occurrence that the friends made remarks about it. The garments did not fit him very well, and the others felt in duty bound to "say things"

which were anything but complimentary.

As they rode along through the mud they were making Lincoln the b.u.t.t of their gibes. He was not like most jokers, for he could take as well as give, while he could "give as good as he got."

In the course of their "chaffing" they came to a spot about four miles from Paris, Illinois, where they saw a pig stuck in the mud and squealing l.u.s.tily. The men all laughed at the poor animal and its absurd plight.

"Poor piggy!" exclaimed Mr. Lincoln impulsively. "Let's get him out of that."

The others jeered at the idea. "You'd better do it. You're dressed for the job!" exclaimed one.

"Return to your wallow!" laughed another, pointing in great glee to the wallowing hog and the mudhole.

Lincoln looked at the pig, at the deep mud, then down at his new clothes. Ruefully he rode on with them for some time. But the cries of the helpless animal rang in his ears. He could endure it no longer.

Lagging behind the rest, he waited until they had pa.s.sed a bend in the road. Then he turned and rode back as fast as his poor old horse could carry him through the mud. Dismounting, he surveyed the ground. The pig had struggled until it was almost buried in the mire, and was now too exhausted to move. After studying the case as if it were a problem in civil engineering, he took some rails off the fence beside the road.

Building a platform of rails around the now exhausted hog, then taking one rail for a lever and another for a fulcrum, he began gently to pry the fat, helpless creature out of the sticky mud. In doing this he plastered his new suit from head to foot, but he did not care, as long as he could save that pig!

"Now, piggy-wig," he said. "It's you and me for it. You do your part and I'll get you out. Now--'one-two-_three_--_up-a-daisy_!'"

He smiled grimly as he thought of the jeers and sneers that would be hurled at him if his friends had stayed to watch him at this work.

After long and patient labor he succeeded in loosening the hog and coaxing it to make the attempt to get free. At last, the animal was made to see that it could get out. Making one violent effort it wallowed away and started for the nearest farmhouse, grunting and flopping its ears as it went.

Lawyer Lincoln looked ruefully down at his clothes, then placed all the rails back on the fence as he had found them.

He had to ride the rest of the day alone, for he did not wish to appear before his comrades until the mud on his suit had dried so that it could be brushed off. That night, when they saw him at the tavern, they asked him what he had been doing all day, eying his clothes with suspicious leers and grins. He had to admit that he could not bear to leave that hog to die, and tried to excuse his tender-heartedness to them by adding: "Farmer Jones's children might have had to go barefoot all Winter if he had lost a valuable hog like that!"

"BEING ELECTED TO CONGRESS HAS NOT PLEASED ME AS MUCH AS I EXPECTED"

In 1846 Abraham Lincoln was elected to Congress, defeating the Rev.

Peter Cartwright, the famous backwoods preacher, who was elected to the State Legislature fourteen years before, the first time Lincoln was a candidate and the only time he was ever defeated by popular vote.

Cartwright had made a vigorous canva.s.s, telling the people that Lincoln was "an aristocrat and an atheist." But, though they had a great respect for Peter Cartwright and his preaching, the people did not believe all that he said against Lincoln, and they elected him. Shortly after this he wrote again to Speed: