The Lincoln Story Book Part 5

Lincoln had been scanning the compet.i.tor and, smiling, returned: "He is _long_ enough, certainly. Let us see about that." He went for his cane [Footnote: Lincoln's cane. This was the cane he carried, instead of going armed. But he was forever leaving it anywhere about, so that, nine times out of ten, he went forth without it on his errant "browsing" around; and it was a wonder that this time he knew where to find it.] and, placing the ferule end to the wall, to act as a level, he bade the young man draw near and stand under. When the rod was carefully adjusted to the top of the head, Mr. Lincoln continued:

"Now, step out and hold the cane while I go under."

This comparison showed that the young man stood six feet three exactly. Lincoln's precise figure, too.

"Just my height," remarked the affable President to the herald of the match; "he guessed with admirable accuracy!"

Giving both a shake of the hand, he gave them the good-by warmly.

He had seen that they were innocents and shrank from letting them know that they had unconsciously offended his dignity.

THE PRIZE FOR HOMELINESS.

In keeping with his p.r.o.neness to jest at his own expense rather than lose a laugh, Lincoln is credited with telling the following story upon himself:

"In the days when I used to be on the circuit (law), I was accosted on the road by a stranger. He said: 'Excuse me, sir, but I have an article in my possession which belongs to you.' 'How is that?'

I asked, considerably astonished.

"The stranger took a 'Barlow' from his pocket.

"'This knife,' said he, 'was placed in my hands some years ago with the injunction of the community, through its bearer, that I was to keep it until I struck a man homelier than I. I have carried it from that time till this. Allow me to say, sir, that you are fairly ent.i.tled to the testimonial.'"

HOW LONG LEGS SHOULD BE.

A quipster, harping on Mr. Lincoln's abnormal tallness, had the mishap to draw upon himself some quizzing; the President putting the _non plus_ on him by asking:

"How long, then, ought a man's legs to be?"

The answer was given by the sphinx:

"Long enough to reach from his body to the ground."

LONG METER.

John Sherman will be remembered as originator of the politicians'

"cover" for electioneering activity, "I am going home to mend my fences." He was fresh from Ohio, but he included in his round of duties, on visiting the capital, an attendance of a Lincoln reception.

He waited in the long file for his turn to shake hands, and, while doing so, wondered how he would be received. For the informal "function" was enlivened by the most untoward incidents, due to the host's simplicity, spontaneous acts and words, and the homelike nature of the scene. Truly enough, when his chance came, the meeting was eccentric.

Lincoln scanned him a moment, threw out his large hand, and said:

"'You're a pretty tall fellow, aren't you? Stand up here to me, back to back, and let's see which of us two is the taller!'

"In another moment I was standing back to back with the greatest man of his age. Naturally I was quite abashed by this unexpected evidence of democracy.

"'You are from the West, aren't you?' inquired Lincoln.

"'My home is in Ohio,' I replied.

"'I thought so', he said; 'that's the kind of men they raise out there!'"

"HARDs.h.i.+PS STRENGTHEN MUSCLES."

As in the old country, kings evade the tiresome features of receptions, after a time, by retiring and leaving the ceremony to be carried out by a deputy, so the daintier Presidents before the sixteenth one eluded the handshaking when possible. But, on the contrary, "the man out of the West" continued to the last, and the latest visitor had no reason to cavil at the grip being less hearty to him than the first comer. On visiting the army hospital at City Point, where upward of three thousand patients awaited his pa.s.sing with enrapt respect, he insisted on no one being neglected. A surgeon inquired if he did not feel lamed in the arm by the undue exertion, whereupon he replied smilingly:

"Not at all. The hards.h.i.+ps of my early life gave me strong muscles."

And as there happened to be in the yard, by the doorway, a chopping-block with the ax left stuck on the top as usual, he took it out, swung, and poised it to get the unfamiliar heft, and chopped up a stick lying handy. When he paused, from no more left to do, he held out the implement straight, forming one line with his extended arm, and not a nerve quivered any more than the helve or the blade. The workers, who knew what hard work was, gazed with wonder at what they could not have done for a moment. One of them gathered up the chips and disposed of them for relics to the sightseers who welcomed such tokens of the great ruler.

(An American visiting Mr. Gladstone's country seat, Hawarden, and seeing the premier chopping a tree for health's sake, observed humorously, having also seen Mr. Lincoln employed as above: "Your Grand Old Man is going in at the same hole ours went out!")

HE USED TO BE "GOOD ON THE CHOP."

In the beginning of 1865, the President was wont to pay visits to the James River, not merely to inspect the camps and the field-hospitals, but to have a peep at "the promised _land_"--that is, Richmond, still held by the rapidly melting and discouraged Southerners as the "Last Ditch." In one of his strolls he came upon a gang of lumbermen cutting up logs and putting up stockades and cabins for the wet weather. Joining one group he chatted freely with the woodmen and as one of themselves. Presently, he asked for the loan of an ax. The man hesitating, since his blade had just been fine-edged, he explained that he was one of the Jacks and "used to be good on the chop." Then seizing the arm with familiarity he attacked a big log and, using it as a broad-ax, shaped the rough-hewn sides till it was a perfect slab.

He handed back the tool and stalked off amid cheers.

A MAN WHO CAN SCRATCH HIS s.h.i.+NS WITHOUT STOOPING.

One of the want-to-knows had the impertinence to inquire of Mr.

Lincoln his opinion of General Sheridan, not yet known, who had come out of the West early in 1864, to take command of the cavalry under General Grant as lieutenant-general.

"Have you not seen Sheridan?" The answer was in the negative. "Then I will tell you just what kind of a chap he is: One of those _long_-armed fellows, with _short_ legs, that can scratch their s.h.i.+ns without having to stoop over to do it!"