Soon after the advent of Uncle Abe at the White House, the pressure of
aspirants for official positions was perfectly crushing.
In fact, Uncle Abe sometimes got so flustered by their bedevilment, that
he not only failed to recollect an illustrating anecdote, but soon lost
his temper.
One of the Illinois applicants--a fellow named Jeff.
D------r, was particularly a bore, seeming to think it part of the
Chicago platform to give every village politician an office.
"Seems to me, Jeff," said Uncle Abe, "you got the Chicago platform
reduced to enormous brevity--in fact, just three p's would seem to
express your idea of it."
"How's that, Mr. Lincoln?" inquired-Jeff.
"Why, it looks to me as if it was patriotism, place and plunder, and a
mighty important plea is the last one, I reckon."
Jeff was silent for a while, but bored on until he "struck ile" in the
shape-of a clerkship.
Rattaned for a Rat Joke.
Just after the retreat of the rebels from Bull Run, when it leaked
out that our troops had been held at bay by wooden or Quaker guns, a
Pennsylvanian Congressman remarked to Uncle Abe--"Well, Mr. Lincoln, you
see that Quaker principles even embodied in wood may be of some service
in war."
"Yes, but as you see in that shape, they are only substituted
principles; such things may do once, but found out, they will avail
worse than nothing. Your remark, however, 'reminds me of a little
story.'
"When I was a youngster of fifteen or so, I went to an 'Academy' for a
few weeks, just to brush up my old-field school learning. Such schools
are called Academies in the East, to distinguish their intermediate
position between colleges and common schools; but in Kentuck and
the West, generally the high sounding title merely meant that the
'principal' taught a few branches ahead of the old-field schools. Well,
the rats were thick about the old building where we daily gathered
to reap the fruit of knowledge; and as many of the boys brought their
dinners and threw the fragments under their old-fashioned box desks,
they soon grew as bold as they were thick. The teacher had a mortal
antipathy to rats, and as I didn't 'take' to the teacher, I naturally
encouraged the rats. Whenever one showed himself, he was sure to get a
whack from the old teacher's rattan. Sometimes he missed his aim at the
rats, but never at us boys, which was owing, perhaps, to the difference
in the size of the game.
"An industrious rat had made a hole from beneath the floor up under my
desk, and thence out through the end, and as I fed him well he was quite
tame. Often during school hours he would come up and peer out into the
aisles through his hole in the end of the desk, and whenever he was seen
by the teacher, he was sure to see the rattan whirling in the air. An
idea struck me one day. I got a dead rat--I did not like to kill my
pet--and stuffing it, made quite a good-looking 'Quaker' rat. Then I
fixed some springs so I could work my rat out and in at pleasure; so
whenever the teacher was looking up, my rat was always out; but when
the whack came down, he was in betimes. At last he seemed to think it
wondrous tame, and the ill-suppressed titter of the school boys finally
made him suspicious. The boys had been let into my secret, and relished
it hugely, and I was too prone to give a few exhibitions. At last the
teacher watched me sharper than he did the rat, and then caught me in
the act. He got hold of the rat and beat me alternately with rat and
switch, and you may well guess, I was well rattaned. If soldiers who use
wooden guns ever get worse usage, I pity them."
The 300 Pounder Parrot since used by the Government, shows Uncle Abe's
poor appreciation of Quaker guns and Quaker principles.
The State House Struck by Whiggery.
Soon after the State House at Springfield was erected, in 1840, Mr.
Lincoln stood on the east side of the Capitol Square one day, in
conversation with a Democratic friend, who was loth to believe that the
Whigs could carry the State for "Tip and Ty."
"Nothing is more morally certain," said Uncle Abe. "All the signs of
the times point to it, and--why even the State House is struck with
Whiggery" he said, pointing up under the eves, where is yet seen a
remarkable representation of a "coon" in the stone.
Graphic and True.
When Hon. Emerson Etheridge escaped from Tennessee during the summer
of 1862, his opinions on Tennessee affairs were eagerly listened to in
Washington. Among other questions, Uncle Abe asked:
"Do the Methodist clergy in your State take to secession?"
"Take? Why, sir, they take to it like a duck to water, or a sailor to a
duff kid."
A Judge of the Post Office.
Judge David Davis of Bloomington, Illinois, who was recently appointed
(by Uncle Abe) to a position on the bench of the Supreme Court of
the United States, is known to many of his friends as one of the best
hearted men in the world. His, is withal, full of the piety of good
humor. I call it "piety," because I think a smiling face is a perpetual
thanksgiving to God. His benevolence, however, edges down his wit, and
gives it more the characteristic of humor, strictly speaking. This,
while it may have helped that "belly with fat capon lined," has kept him
at peace with himself and the world.
On one occasion, while Judge Davis was presiding at the Logan County
Circuit Court, a case came up that involved a question of postal law.
Uncle Abe was on the case, and politely loaned Judge D. a small manual
of postal law, that he might see for himself what the letter of the
law was. The Judge gave his understanding of the law, but had hardly
finished when Mr. S------s, a burley farmer from Clear Creek, jumped up
and sang out--
"I reckon that ain't so, Judge. I've been Post-Master more'n a dozen
years, and I reckon I ought to know what's Post Office law."
Of course Judge Davis had every right to fine the man for contempt, but
he had a different way of treating such cases. "With a tone in which
sarcasm only slightly blended, he said:
"Truly, I think you ought, Mr. S------s. It has never been my privilege
to be a Post-Master, and I would like your opinion in this case. Please
step this way."
The Judge moved over and made room on the bench, which Mr. S------s
occupied, and proceeded to give _his_ opinion on the mooted question.
The bar sat smiling in expectation.
"Keep your seat, Mr. S------s, while I speak a word with my friend
Parks."
Uncle Abe it was who had been interrupted, so he resumed:
"May it please the Court, I had some doubt on this point myself, so
I borrowed the usual manual of Postal Law, to be perfectly assured.
I regret to contend that the clear letter of the law conflicts--sadly
conflicts--with the view just taken by Judge S------s;" but here the bar
indulged in a quiet "smile" without a stick in it, and it just popped
into Mr. S------'s head, that he was out of place, and he skedaddled in
haste.
"The largest _pussie_ Judge that sat on our bench," remarked Will Wyatt.
From that day to this, Mr. S------s, has never lost the title he so
suddenly gained.
I'm an Inderlid.
One day while Uncle Abe was attending to a case at Mount Pulaski, (the
country seat of Logan County, Illinois,) he was beset by old B------s,
a worthy farmer, but a notorious malaprop, for an opinion as to his
amenability to the road tax. "You look here, Mr. Lincoln, these fellows
here want to make me work on the road."
"Well!" said Uncle Abe.
"Well, I tells them that they can't do it, cause I'm an _inderlid_, you
see."
(Of course Uncle Abe concurred in B------s opinion, and forgot to charge
a fee.)
"On another occasion, he wanted John G. Gillette, the great cattle
dealer, to _proximate_ him because he'd got the best pair of cattle
scales in Logan County."
How Uncle Abe got his Sobriquet.
Some one ventured to ask Uncle Abe, soon after his arrival at the White
House, how he got the sobriquet of "Honest Abe."
"Oh," said he, "I suppose my case was pretty much like that of a country
merchant I once read of. Some one called him a 'little rascal.' 'Thank
you for the compliment,' said he. 'Why so?' asked the stigmatizer.
'Because that title distinguishes me from my fellow tradesmen, who are
all _great_ rascals.'"
"So honest lawyers were so scarce in Illinois that you were thus
distinguished from them?" persisted the questioner.
"Well," quoth Uncle Abe, glancing slyly at Douglas, Sweet, and others
from Illinois, "it's hard to say where the honest ones are."
"I'll take Number Eleven too."
Thirty-five or forty years ago, a trip from Sangamon or Macon County, to
St. Louis, was an event to be talked of. It took as long to make it, and
furnished food for as much rustic enquiry and comment, as does a voyage
to Europe now. Uncle Abe had then given up rail-splitting, and was
studying law. Having a little while before treated himself to a (then)
rare thing, a suit of "store clothes;" and a neighbor being about to
leave for St. Louis, he resolved to go along. As the teams toiled on at
the rate of fifteen or twenty miles a day, they were gradually joined by
others, till the train presented somewhat the sights now to be seen on
our great overland routes to the Pacific.
On arrival at St. Louis, Abe determined to see high life, and
accordingly made tracks for a letter A. No. 1, first class Hotel.
The Old City Hotel was then the only house that could claim that
distinction. There the merchants congregated, and there the Indian
trader sought relaxation from frontier hardships, while the rough
trapper was content with the humble fare of the "Hunter's Home."
I forget what association called out this reminiscence of that trip; but
there can be no harm in repeating the story. Such mishaps have befallen
incipient greatness before.
At the dinner table, each waiter was provided with a wine card, and each
guest had his wine charged to the number of his room, simply calling
out, as for instance, Sherry No. 9, &c. A jolly Indian trader, sat just
opposite Abe, who betimes called "Claret, No 11." Abe saw that most of
the guests were similarly providing for themselves, and concluded not to
appear penurious, so he said he'd take some wine too.
"What kind, sah?" asked the waiter.
"Oh, I'll take the same,"--pointing to the bottle just called for by the
Indian trader.
"What number, sah?"
Abe was puzzled. Ho had not been used to wine or hotel life; but it was
only a moment before he broke the ice.
"Oh, I'll just take No. 11 too."
The trader looked up surprised, while several others near by, smiled a
faint comprehension as to the state of affairs.
"Why, young man," said the trader, "that is my number, and mine is a
single room."
"I beg pardon," stammered Abe, conscious that he had betrayed rusticity
and ignorance; but not knowing exactly how to extricate himself, the
good-hearted trader came to his aid--
"Were you ever in the city before?" asked he.
"Never before."
"Well, then, in memory of your advent, it shall be No. 11 too," and he
quietly pushed the bottle across the table. So agreeable was he that
Abe rallied, and the second bottle followed the fate of the first. On
renewing the conversation after dinner, the trader was satisfied that
Abe had 'lots' of 'horse sense,' but little of worldly experience,
and he friendlily invited him to go out with him as a clerk; but, Abe
declined. Had he gone--what? Perhaps he might have become a respectable
Indian trader--perhaps he never had been elected President, and perhaps
we would have had no rebellion.
A Severe Retort.
Uncle Abe took a great liking to the late Col. Ellsworth, and afterwards
did him the honor of making a Colonel of him. The rebel Jackson did
the rest, but enough of that. Many of our readers will recall the
slim, spruce figure of Col. Ellsworth as he paraded the streets
of Springfield, dressed in a unique Zouave uniform, a mere boy in
appearance. He was full of animal spirits. He and Bob O'Lincoln were
cutting up didoes in the Law office of Lincoln and Hornden, which
greatly annoyed Uncle Abe, and he gently reproved them. Bob, a little
nettled, replied by quoting the common couplet:
``"A little nonsense now and then,
``Is relished by the wisest men."
"Yes," said Uncle Abe, looking severely at Bob, "that's the difference
between a wise man and a fool who relishes it all the time."
Bob subsided, and Ellsworth betook himself anew to Blackstone.
Had all the Time there Was.
When Uncle Abe used to attend the Courts in the regions round about
Sangamon, he generally made easy stays, and was wont to look at the
country and talk to the people at his leisure. On one occasion he
was riding by the premises of old H------, who was notorious for his
unthriftiness, and who was in the act of driving some stray hogs out of
his corn-field.
"Good morning, Mr. H------," said Uncle Abe.
"Morning, Mr. Lincoln, morning."
"Why don't you mend that piece of fence thoroughly, Mr. H------, and
keep the pigs out?" asked Uncle Abe.
"Ha'n't got time," said H------.
"Why," said Uncle Abe, with an air of blended reproof and humor, "you've
got all the time there is Mr. H------."
Whether H------ mended his fence and his thriftless habits, this
deponent knoweth not; but has often thought how true was the remark,
whether as a joke or an admonition. Every second, minute or hour is
ours--ours to use or ours to squander. How wontonly wasteful would be
the rich man who should stand upon a vessel's deck and cast his million
golden coins into the sea; yet day after day we stand upon the shores of
eternity, and cast the golden moments into the unreturning past. All the
knowledge and wealth of the world is but the result of improved time. So
don't say you "havn't got time," for you've got all there is, as Uncle
Abe says.
Could Stand it a Day or Two,
About the time this occurred, there stood on one side of Capitol Square,
in Springfield, a Hotel, now doubtless out of memory of most of the
occupants of the out-lots and additions which speculators have hitched
to the original village. In its day it was a "first-class hotel," but
it waned before the "American" and is now among the "things that were."
There were some who doubted the cleanliness of the _cuisine_, and
"thereby hangs a tale."
Judge Brown arrived in town and put up at the aforesaid hotel, whereat,
Uncle Abe, on meeting him, expressed his regret, begging him to become
_his_ guest. The Judge would fain not trouble his friend.
"But you know the reputation of the place--the kitchen?" said Uncle Abe.
"I've heard of it," said the Judge; "but as I want to keep my appetite,
I always shun the kitchen, if not the cooks."
"But surely, can't you see by the table alone, Judge?"
"I know, Mr. Lincoln, but I'm going to stop only a day or two, and I
guess I can stand for that time what the landlord's family stand all
their lives."
Speaking of Hotels, reminds me of a little episode of one of Uncle
Abe's professional visits to Cairo, in Egypt, a town fenced in with
mud-banks and celebrated for its mud-holes and mean whisky. Thereabouts
is a Hotel, and thereat Uncle Abe stopped because the water forbade
further traveling. When his bill was presented to him next morning,
he ventured to remark, "that his accommodation had not been of the most
agreeable kind."
"We are very much crowded," apologetically replied the landlord.
"But I had hard work to get breakfast this morning."
"Yes," continued the apologist, "we are greatly in need of help."
"Well, well," said Uncle Abe, "you keep a first rate hotel in one
respect."
"Ah!" said the landlord, brightening up, "in what respect is that?"
"Your bills," said Undo Abe, vanishing towards the "Central" cars.
The Ky-ro-ite landlord perhaps thought he ought to be well compensated
for keeping a hotel in such a place. A man of his sort used to "keep
tavern" in Pasy County, Indiana, several years ago. A pedestrian stopped
with him over night, for which the charge was 2.50.
"Why, landlord," said he, "this is an outrageous bill."
"You mean it's a big'un?" said the insatiate Boniface.
"Yes, I do."
"Well, stranger, we keep tavern here."
"What has that to do with such a bill?"
"Look at that'ere sign, stranger--cost ten dollars; your'n the fust
trav'ler that's bin along for three weeks, and we can't afford to keep
tavern for nothin--_we_ can't!"
Not the Worst of it.
Gov. Morgan, of New York, was urging the employment of General W------in
active service, Seward objected, that he was "too old" for the emergency
of the times.
"Yes," said Uncle Abe, "we've got too many old officers in the army, and
that is not the worst of it--_we've got two many old women_ there!" This
was when Uncle Abe's faith was strong in little Mac.
"Some conclusions;" said Uncle Abe on one occasion, "are nonsequential.
To say that Rome was not built in a day, does not prove that it was
built in a night."
Accoutred en Militaire.
In the outset of the famous Black-hawk war in Illinois, a "hoss company"
was raised in the region where Uncle Abe was (then) a rising lawyer.
I say rising, although he had then reached a height sufficient to
help himself to most blessings--and he, the aforesaid U.A., was chosen
Captain. Uncle Abe rode a "slapping stallion," who was either naturally
restive, or appreciated his new honor too highly--at any rate, he
corvetted and pirouetted like a very Bucephalus. At last he unhorsed
his rider, who landed sprawling on the prairie in one of those green
excrescences that abound where bovine herds range. As the discomfitted
Uncle Abe rose, and surveyed his predicament, old Pierre Menard, who was
a near spectator, remarked in his broken French:
"Vell, I nevair sees any man accoutred en militaire like zat before."
Most old suckers pronounce accoutred as the Yankees do the word
cowcumber, and this rendered Menard's joke more unctious.
Perils of Illinois Lawyers.
Years ago, when the capital of Suckerdom was a village of less
"magnificence" than it now presents--when Lincoln, Harden, Baker,
McDougal, Douglas, Shields and Ferguson were all village lawyers, and
scarcely known to fame--Judge Thomas Brown was on the Supreme bench
of the State. He was to some extent a "character;" but not a very
successful lawyer. He went to California, since when he has been
generally lost sight of; but his old friends may be assured that if he
is in the "land of the living," Uncle Abe's tax collectors will find
him. But that's neither here nor there. His ideas of the perils of
practicing law in Illinois, in early times, is what is now before the
reader.
On one occasion, after he had changed his residence to Peoria, having
some business to transact in Springfield, he arrived in that place and
put up at the old American House, (now kept by Henry Bidgely, Esq.)
He chanced to mention the name of Peoria. Instantly the attention of a
countryman was fixed, upon him, who, at the first opportunity accosted
him--
"From Peoria, Squar?"
"Yes."
"Much acquainted?"
"Pretty well, Sir."
"Know a lawyer up there named H------g R------s?"
"Yes sir."
"How's he getting along?"
"Oh, first rate--devilish lucky man."
"He's getting hold of considerable land, hain't he?"
"Yes a deal--devilish lucky man.
"Yes--large--devilish lucky man."
"Look here, Squar," said the countryman, evidently puzzled at R------s
being so devilish lucky.
"What do you mean about his being so lucky?"
"Mean? why I call any man lucky that practices law twenty years in
Illinoiss, and don't get into the penitentiary."
Couldn't Make a Presidential Chair.
"Mr. Lincoln," said an ardent sovereignty man just at the beginning of
the last Presidential contest "Mr. Douglas is a cabinet maker."
"He _was_ when I first knew him," said Uncle Abe "but he gave up the
business so long ago, that I don't think he can make a Presidential
chair now." Uncle Abe proved himself a prophet, although at a tremendous
cost to the country.
"Couldn't see It in that Light."
A delegation of temperance men recently sought to influence Uncle Abe to
take some stringent steps to suppress intemperance in our armies. Among
other reasons urged, they said our armies were often beaten because of
intemperance.
"Is that so?" said Undo Abe. "I've heard on all sides that the rebels
drink more than our boys do, and I can't see why our boys, who drink
less, are more liable to get whipped."
"But you know the corrupting influence of the army in regard to drinking
habits," pursued the Committee.
"I've heard that, too," said Uncle Abe, "but I think they will do pretty
well _if I can keep them out of Washington!_"
The Committee didn't carry their measure, by a jug full.
Too Tough for the Rebels.
When the Illinois boys gathered at Springfield, under the call of the
ten regiment bill, they were quartered on the fair grounds, just out
of the city. All the stalls were filled with troops, before which were
signs as "St. Nicholas," "Richmond House," etc., etc. Charley W------,
on going through the fair grounds, looked into the "Richmond House," and
said--
"Well, boys, how do you get along?"
"Oh, first rate," replied the Chicagoians, "we're all _stall fed_."
"Bully for you," said Charley; "hope you'll be too tough for the
rebels."
Little Mac Helped by an Illustration.
"I can't seem to reap any advantage from the rebel movements," said
McClellan, in consultation with Uncle Abe.
"Oh, you just keep a watchful, careful eye on Leer and perhaps you will
yet see how to make use of them, as old Mother Grundy did of her crooked
wood."
"Thereby hangs a tale," remarked little Mac, with one of his peculiar,
quaint smiles.
"You're right, General. Your remark reminded me of a good old
neighbor of my father's, in Kentucky, who died many years ago. She was
sweet-tempered--few such in this world." Uncle Abe stopped as though a
mental comparison had damaged some woman of his acquaintance. "Yes, her
disposition was of that kind that extracts 'good from things evil.' And
she was her husband's pride and boast. One day he was praising her to a
neighbor."
"'Look here, old man Grundy,' said the neighbor 'these women are just
like cats--they are all right as long as you stroke the fur the right
way, but reverse the movement, and you'll see the fire fly. Now, I'll
tell you what, I bet a four-gallon keg of my four-year-old peach, that I
can tell you how to make her as mad as a set-hen, if you dare to try."
"'Done,' cried old man Grundy.
"'Well, you just haul home all the crookedest sticks of wood you can
find, and then see.'
"Old man Grundy brought home a small load every day or two, and it was
knotty and crooked as a pigs-tail; but not a word or look of complaint.
For a week this continued, with the same result, when he asked the good
wife how she liked the wood."
"'Oh,'tis beautiful wood,' said she; 'it burns finely, and then it fits
_around my pots and kettles just, as if 'twas made on purpose_.'"
Lee did not fit into Mac's hand so well, yet the story was not without
its use to him.
An Acre of Fight.
During the progress of the Senatorial campaign between Douglas and
Lincoln, Uncle Abe came home to recreate a few days. Douglas, long used
to the political arena, bore the fatigues of the canvass like a veteran.
His custom was to bathe just after supper, getting some friend to rub
him like a race horse, when he would sit down and enjoy his whisky
and cigar. Lincoln, lank and abstemious, bore his yoke with evident
weariness. But to the story.
Uncle Abe went up into the Governor's room in the State House, where he
was soon joined by many of the leading Republicans of the town. Some one
remarked on his look of weariness. "It is a mighty contest," remarked
Uncle Jesse Du Bois.
"But Mr. Lincoln does not show his great appreciation of it upon the
stand," remarked a Chicago correspondent, in allusion to Uncle Abe's
good humored replies to Douglas.
"But still, when the day's gladiatorial combat is over, it seems to
me, as the Kentucky fellow said, that I had been through 'an acre of
fight.'"
"Give us that story, Abe," said Dr. Wallace, Uncle Abe's brother-in-law.
"Well, one of my earliest recollections of a Kentucky Court, was a trial
about a fight. It took place in the Court House grounds, and the Judge,
thinking it constructable as a contempt of Court, sent out the Sheriff,
and had the parties quickly brought before him. Both had bruised noses
and beavers, and showed the unmistakable evidence of having been in
a scrimage. The witnesses were numerous, and the evidence was so
conflicting, that the Judge declared he could legally reach no other
conclusion than that there had _been no fight at all_. But the Sheriff
ventured to suggest:
"Here's Jim Blowers--he had hold on one of them fellers, when I arrested
them."
"Mr. Clerk," said the Judge, "you will at once swear Mr. Blowers."
"Now, Mr. Blowers," said the Clerk, "you will please tell the Court what
you know about this affair."
"Well, ax on."
"Well, was there a fight between these parties?"
"Just a bit of scrimage."
"It was a real fight, was it?"
"Well, some people would call it that."
"How much of a fight was it?"
"Oh, considerable--they pulled and hauled about kinder like two cows
when they lock horns."
"But, tell the Court more precisely?"
"Well, I should say it was a right smart fight."
"But _how_ much of a fight?"
"Well, then, just about an acre, I reckon."
It is needless to say that the crowd enjoyed the joke hugely.
"It is easier to pay a small debt than a larger one."
Uncle Abe Believes in the Intelligence of Oysters.
In the year 1860 or thereabouts, when a great patent case was being
tried in Chicago, and champagne and oysters were the favorite viands
served nightly to Counsel and Jurors after the adjournment of Court, it
happened that one Ed. D------n, a young patent lawyer from New York, was
present on one of those occasions. Now, Ned is terribly afflicted with a
determination of words to the mouth, and managed to monopolize the whole
conversation. Ned had a speech to make upon everything, and kept buzzing
around like a musquito, dipping his bill into everything animate or
inanimate, no matter which. At last he began to officiate at serving out
the oysters, and with ladle in hand, said in his usual stilted style,
"I wonder whether this bivalve, this seemingly obtuse oyster, is endowed
with any degree of intelligence." Uncle Abe looked at the puppy, who, by
the way, had prevented him cracking a single one of his favorite jokes
for the entire evening, and quaintly remarked, that "he was satisfied
that an oyster knew when to shut up, and that was more than some
New York lawyers knew." Ned has never propounded the query as to the
intellect of oysters since.