President Lincoln, while eager that the United States troops should
be supplied with the most modern and serviceable weapons, often took
occasion to put his foot down upon the mania for experimenting with
which some of his generals were afflicted. While engaged in these
experiments much valuable time was wasted, the enemy was left to do as
he thought best, no battles were fought, and opportunities for winning
victories allowed to pass.
The President was an exceedingly practical man, and when an invention,
idea or discovery was submitted to him, his first step was to ascertain
how any or all of them could be applied in a way to be of benefit to the
army. As to experimenting with “contrivances” which, to his mind, could
never be put to practical use, he had little patience.
“Some of these generals,” said he, “experiment so long and so much with
newfangled, fancy notions that when they are finally brought to a
head they are useless. Either the time to use them has gone by, or the
machine, when put in operation, kills more than it cures.
“One of these generals, who has a scheme for ‘condensing’ rations,
is willing to swear his life away that his idea, when carried to
perfection, will reduce the cost of feeding the Union troops to almost
nothing, while the soldiers themselves will get so fat that they’ll
‘bust out’ of their uniforms. Of course, uniforms cost nothing, and real
fat men are more active and vigorous than lean, skinny ones, but that is
getting away from my story.
“There was once an Irishman--a cabman--who had a notion that he could
induce his horse to live entirely on shavings. The latter he could get
for nothing, while corn and oats were pretty high-priced. So he daily
lessened the amount of food to the horse, substituting shavings for the
corn and oats abstracted, so that the horse wouldn’t know his rations
were being cut down.
“However, just as he had achieved success in his experiment, and the
horse had been taught to live without other food than shavings, the
ungrateful animal ‘up and died,’ and he had to buy another.
“So far as this general referred to is concerned, I’m afraid
the soldiers will all be dead at the time when his experiment is
demonstrated as thoroughly successful.”
‘TWAS “MOVING DAY.”
Speed, who was a prosperous young merchant of Springfield, reports
that Lincoln’s personal effects consisted of a pair of saddle-bags,
containing two or three lawbooks, and a few pieces of clothing. Riding
on a borrowed horse, he thus made his appearance in Springfield. When he
discovered that a single bedstead would cost seventeen dollars he said,
“It is probably cheap enough, but I have not enough money to pay for
it.” When Speed offered to trust him, he said: “If I fail here as a
lawyer, I will probably never pay you at all.” Then Speed offered to
share large double bed with him.
“Where is your room?” Lincoln asked.
“Upstairs,” said Speed, pointing from the store leading to his room.
Without saying a word, he took his saddle-bags on his arm, went
upstairs, set them down on the floor, came down again, and with a face
beaming with pleasure and smiles, exclaimed: “Well, Speed, I’m moved.”
“ABE’S” HAIR NEEDED COMBING.
“By the way,” remarked President Lincoln one day to Colonel Cannon, a
close personal friend, “I can tell you a good story about my hair. When
I was nominated at Chicago, an enterprising fellow thought that a great
many people would like to see how ‘Abe’ Lincoln looked, and, as I had
not long before sat for a photograph, the fellow, having seen it, rushed
over and bought the negative.
“He at once got no end of wood-cuts, and so active was their circulation
they were soon selling in all parts of the country.
“Soon after they reached Springfield, I heard a boy crying them for sale
on the streets. ‘Here’s your likeness of “Abe” Lincoln!’ he shouted.
‘Buy one; price only two shillings! Will look a great deal better when
he gets his hair combed!”’