Until Lincoln--seeing that his decisions created enemies, whichever way
they fell--renounced being umpire for horse-racing and the like events,
momentous on the border, he officiated in many such pastimes. Before he
found them "all wrong," he had a horsy acquaintance in a judge. This
was at a time when he was practising law, which involved riding on
circuit, as the court went round to give sittings like the ancient
English justices, attending assizes. During such excursions, they
played practical jokes, naturally. Among their singular contests was a
bet of twenty-five dollars--as forfeit if, in horse-swapping, the loser
rejected the horse offered on even terms with the one he "put in."
Neither was to know anything of the equine paragon until simultaneously
exhibited.
As good sport was indicated where two such arrant jokers were in
conflict, a vast throng filled the tavern-yard where the pair were to
draw conclusions. At the appointed hour the court functionary dragged
upon the scene a most dilapidated _simulacrum_ of man's noblest
conquest--blind, spavined, lean as Pharaoh's _kind_, creeking in every
joint--at the same time that his fellow wagerer carried on under his
long arm a carpenter's _horse_--gashed with adze and broadax, bored
with the augur, trenched with saw and draw-knife--singed, paint, and
tar-spotted, crazy in each leg of the three still adhering--in short,
justifying Lincoln to reverse his cry at viewing the real animal:
"Jedge (for judge), this is the first time I ever _got the worst_ of it
in a hoss-trade!"
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