President Lincoln appointed as consul to a South American country a
young man from Ohio who was a dandy. A wag met the new appointee on his
way to the White House to thank the President. He was dressed in the
most extravagant style. The wag horrified him by telling him that the
country to which he was assigned was noted chiefly for the bugs that
abounded there and made life unbearable.
“They’ll bore a hole clean through you before a week has passed,” was
the comforting assurance of the wag as they parted at the White House
steps. The new consul approached Lincoln with disappointment clearly
written all over his face. Instead of joyously thanking the President,
he told him the wag’s story of the bugs. “I am informed, Mr. President,”
he said, “that the place is full of vermin and that they could eat me up
in a week’s time.” “Well, young man,” replied Lincoln, “if that’s true,
all I’ve got to say is that if such a thing happened they would leave a
mighty good suit of clothes behind.”
“SOME UGLY OLD LAWYER.”
A. W. Swan, of Albuquerque, New Mexico, told this story on Lincoln,
being an eyewitness of the scene:
“One day President Lincoln was met in the park between the White House
and the War Department by an irate private soldier, who was swearing in
a high key, cursing the Government from the President down. Mr. Lincoln
paused and asked him what was the matter. ‘Matter enough,’ was the
reply. ‘I want my money. I have been discharged here, and can’t get my
pay.’ Mr. Lincoln asked if he had his papers, saying that he used to
practice law in a small way, and possibly could help him.
“My friend and I stepped behind some convenient shrubbery where we could
watch the result. Mr. Lincoln took the papers from the hands of the
crippled soldier, and sat down with him at the foot of a convenient
tree, where he examined them carefully, and writing a line on the back,
told the soldier to take them to Mr. Potts, Chief Clerk of the War
Department, who would doubtless attend to the matter at once.
“After Mr. Lincoln had left the soldier, we stepped out and asked him
if he knew whom he had been talking with. ‘Some ugly old fellow who
pretends to be a lawyer,’ was the reply. My companion asked to see the
papers, and on their being handed to him, pointed to the indorsement
they had received: This indorsement read:
“‘Mr. Potts, attend to this man’s case at once and see that he gets his
pay. A. L.’”