Lincoln was a very quiet man, and went about his business in a quiet
way, making the least noise possible. He heartily disliked those
boisterous people who were constantly deluging him with advice, and
shouting at the tops of their voices whenever they appeared at the White
House. “These noisy people create a great clamor,” said he one day, in
conversation with some personal friends, “and remind me, by the way, of
a good story I heard out in Illinois while I was practicing, or trying
to practice, some law there. I will say, though, that I practiced more
law than I ever got paid for.
“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.”