In 1833, when Abraham was just over twenty, he fell in love with Anne,
or Annie Rutledge, at New Salem. Her father kept the tavern where
Lincoln boarded. But the girl was engaged to a dry-goods merchant,
named McNeil. This man, pretending to be of a high old Irish family,
likely to discountenance union to a publican's daughter,
shilly-shallied, but finally went East to get his folks' consent. He
acknowledged that he was parading under borrowed plumes, as he was a
McNamara in reality. He stayed away so long that the maid-forlorn gave
him up and listened to other suitors. Lincoln proposed, but waited till
the apparent jilt was heard from. Then they were espoused. But a block
to the match came in Lincoln having no position. Awaiting his efforts
as a law student, the wedding was postponed; but, meanwhile, death came
quick where fortune lagged. She died and left her lover broken-hearted.
He seems then to have been smitten with the brown study afflicting him
all his life, and by some, like Secretary Boutwell, affirmed to be
independent of the surrounding grounds for depression and grief. Fears
of suicide led his friends to watch him closely; and he was known to go
and lie on the grave of the maid, whose name he said would dwell ever
with him, while his heart was buried with her. The rival, McNamara,
returned too late to redeem his vow, but lived in the same State many
years, "a prosperous gentleman."
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