Lincoln made his first speech when he was a mere boy, going barefoot,
his trousers held up by one suspender, and his shock of hair sticking
through a hole in the crown of his cheap straw hat.
“Abe,” in company with Dennis Hanks, attended a political meeting,
which was addressed by a typical stump speaker--one of those loud-voiced
fellows who shouted at the top of his voice and waved his arms wildly.
At the conclusion of the speech, which did not meet the views either
of “Abe” or Dennis, the latter declared that “Abe” could make a better
speech than that. Whereupon he got a dry-goods box and called on “Abe”
to reply to the campaign orator.
Lincoln threw his old straw hat on the ground, and, mounting the
dry-goods box, delivered a speech which held the attention of the crowd
and won him considerable applause. Even the campaign orator admitted
that it was a fine speech and answered every point in his own “oration.”
Dennis Hanks, who thought “Abe” was about the greatest man that ever
lived, was delighted, and he often told how young “Abe” got the better
of the trained campaign speaker.
“ABE WANTED NO SNEAKIN’ ‘ROUND.”
It was in 1830, when “Abe” was just twenty-one years of age, that
the Lincoln family moved from Gentryville, Indiana, to near Decatur,
Illinois, their household goods being packed in a wagon drawn by four
oxen driven by “Abe.”
The winter previous the latter had “worked” in a country store in
Gentryville and before undertaking the journey he invested all the money
he had--some thirty dollars--in notions, such as needles, pins, thread,
buttons and other domestic necessities. These he sold to families along
the route and made a profit of about one hundred per cent.
This mercantile adventure of his youth “reminded” the President of a
very clever story while the members of the Cabinet were one day solemnly
debating a rather serious international problem. The President was in
the minority, as was frequently the case, and he was “in a hole,” as
he afterwards expressed it. He didn’t want to argue the points raised,
preferring to settle the matter in a hurry, and an apt story was his
only salvation.
Suddenly the President’s fact brightened. “Gentlemen,” said he,
addressing those seated at the Cabinet table, “the situation just now
reminds me of a fix I got into some thirty years or so ago when I was
peddling ‘notions’ on the way from Indiana to Illinois. I didn’t have a
large stock, but I charged large prices, and I made money. Perhaps you
don’t see what I am driving at?”
Secretary of State Seward was wearing a most gloomy expression of
countenance; Secretary of War Stanton was savage and inclined to be
morose; Secretary of the Treasury Chase was indifferent and cynical,
while the others of the Presidential advisers resigned themselves to the
hearing of the inevitable “story.”
“I don’t propose to argue this matter,” the President went on to say,
“because arguments have no effect upon men whose opinions are fixed and
whose minds are made up. But this little story of mine will make some
things which now are in the dark show up more clearly.”
There was another pause, and the Cabinet officers, maintaining their
previous silence, began wondering if the President himself really knew
what he was “driving at.”
“Just before we left Indiana and crossed into Illinois,” continued Mr.
Lincoln solemnly, speaking in a grave tone of voice, “we came across a
small farmhouse full of nothing but children. These ranged in years from
seventeen years to seventeen months, and all were in tears. The mother
of the family was red-headed and red-faced, and the whip she held in her
right hand led to the inference that she had been chastising her brood.
The father of the family, a meek-looking, mild-mannered, tow-headed
chap, was standing in the front door-way, awaiting--to all
appearances--his turn to feel the thong.
“I thought there wasn’t much use in asking the head of that house if she
wanted any ‘notions.’ She was too busy. It was evident an insurrection
had been in progress, but it was pretty well quelled when I got there.
The mother had about suppressed it with an iron hand, but she was not
running any risks. She kept a keen and wary eye upon all the children,
not forgetting an occasional glance at the ‘old man’ in the doorway.
“She saw me as I came up, and from her look I thought she was of the
opinion that I intended to interfere. Advancing to the doorway, and
roughly pushing her husband aside, she demanded my business.
“‘Nothing, madame,’ I answered as gently as possible; ‘I merely dropped
in as I came along to see how things were going.’
“‘Well, you needn’t wait,’ was the reply in an irritated way; ‘there’s
trouble here, an’ lots of it, too, but I kin manage my own affairs
without the help of outsiders. This is jest a family row, but I’ll teach
these brats their places ef I hev to lick the hide off ev’ry one of
them. I don’t do much talkin’, but I run this house, an’ I don’t want no
one sneakin’ round tryin’ to find out how I do it, either.’
“That’s the case here with us,” the President said in conclusion. “We
must let the other nations know that we propose to settle our family
row in our own way, and ‘teach these brats their places’ (the seceding
States) if we have to ‘lick the hide off’ of each and every one of them.
And, like the old woman, we don’t want any ‘sneakin’ ‘round’ by other
countries who would like to find out how we are to do it, either.
“Now, Seward, you write some diplomatic notes to that effect.”
And the Cabinet session closed.