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.”