Lincoln's Removal to Springfield--A Lawyer without Clients or
Money--Early Discouragements--Proposes to Become a
Carpenter--"Stuart & Lincoln, Attorneys at Law"--"Riding the
Circuit"--Incidents of a Trip Round the Circuit--Pen Pictures of
Lincoln--Humane Traits--Kindness to Animals--Defending Fugitive
Slaves--Incidents in Lincoln's Life as a Lawyer--His Fondness for
Jokes and Stories.
Lincoln's removal from New Salem to Springfield, where his more active
life as a lawyer began, occurred in April, 1837, soon after the
completion of his survey work at Petersburg. The event was closely
connected with the removal of the State capital from Vandalia to
Springfield, the law for which was passed at the legislative session of
1836-7. As has been stated, Lincoln was a member of that Legislature and
was active in procuring the passage of the bill. The citizens of
Springfield were very desirous of the removal of the capital to their
town, and many of them were present at the session when the measure was
up for discussion. They had thus become acquainted with Lincoln; they
were favorably impressed as to his abilities and character, and pleased
with his efforts in the matter in which they were so greatly interested.
Through their influence and encouragement he chose Springfield as his
future home.
Lincoln's first interview, after his arrival in Springfield, was with
Mr. Joshua F. Speed, with whom he already had a slight acquaintance, and
who details the circumstances of their meeting. "He had ridden into
town," says Mr. Speed, "on a borrowed horse, with no earthly property
save a pair of saddle-bags containing a few clothes. I was a merchant at
Springfield, and kept a large country store, embracing dry goods,
groceries, hardware, books, medicines, bed-clothes, mattresses,--in
fact, everything that country people needed. Lincoln came into the store
with his saddle-bags on his arm, and said he wanted to buy the fixings
for a single bed. The mattresses, blankets, sheets, coverlid, and
pillow, according to the figures made by me, would cost seventeen
dollars. He said that was perhaps cheap enough, but small as the sum was
he was unable to pay it. But if I would credit him till Christmas and
his experiment as a lawyer was a success, he would pay then; adding, in
the saddest tone, 'If I fail in this, I do not know that I can ever pay
you.' As I looked up at him I thought then, and think now, that I never
saw a sadder face. I said to him, 'You seem to be so much pained at
contracting so small a debt, I think I can suggest a plan by which you
can avoid the debt and at the same time attain your end. I have a large
room with a double bed up-stairs which you are very welcome to share
with me.' 'Where is your room?' said he. 'Up-stairs,' said I, pointing
to a pair of winding stairs which led from the store to my room. He took
his saddle-bags on his arm, went up-stairs, set them down on the floor,
and came down with the most changed countenance. Beaming with pleasure,
he exclaimed, 'Well, Speed, I'm moved!' Lincoln was then twenty-eight
years old. He was a lawyer without a client, with no money, all his
earthly wealth consisting of the clothes he wore and the contents of his
saddle-bags."
Lincoln shared the same room with Mr. Speed during his early residence
in Springfield, taking his meals with his companion at the house of Mr.
William Butler, with whom he boarded for five years. His professional
advancement at first was slow, and he had periods of great
discouragement. An old settler of Illinois, named Page Eaton, says: "I
knew Lincoln when he first came to Springfield. He was an awkward but
hard-working young man. Everybody said he would never make a good
lawyer because he was too honest. He came to my shop one day, after he
had been here five or six months, and said he had a notion to quit
studying law and learn carpentering. He thought there was more need of
carpenters out here than lawyers." Soon after Lincoln's settlement in
Springfield, he formed a law partnership with Major John T. Stuart, whom
he had known for some years and who already had a good position at the
bar. This partnership began, according to the statement of Major Stuart,
on April 27, 1837. It continued just four years, when it was dissolved,
and Lincoln and Judge Stephen T. Logan became partners. This latter
partnership continued about two years, when, on September 20, 1843, the
firm of Lincoln & Herndon was formed, and it continued to the time of
Lincoln's death.
When Lincoln began to practice law, it was the custom in Illinois to
"ride the circuit," a proceeding of which the older communities of the
East know nothing. The State of Illinois, for instance, is divided into
a number of districts, each composed of a number of counties, of which a
single judge, appointed or elected as the case may be, for that purpose,
makes the circuit, holding courts at each county seat. Railroads being
scarce, the earlier circuit judges made their trips from county to
county on horseback or in a gig; and the prominent lawyers living within
the limits of the circuit made the tour of the circuit with the judge.
It is said that when Lincoln first began to "ride the circuit" he was
too poor to own a horse or vehicle, and was compelled to borrow from his
friends. But in due time he became the proprietor of a horse, which he
fed and groomed himself, and to which he was very much attached. On this
animal he would set out from home, to be gone for weeks together, with
no baggage but a pair of saddle-bags containing a change of linen, and
an old cotton umbrella to shelter him from sun or rain. When he got a
little more of this world's goods he set up a one-horse buggy, a very
sorry and shabby-looking affair which he generally used when the weather
promised to be bad. The other lawyers were always glad to see him, and
landlords hailed his coming with pleasure; but he was one of those
gentle, uncomplaining men whom they would put off with indifferent
accommodations. It was a significant remark of a lawyer who was
thoroughly acquainted with his habits and disposition that "Lincoln was
never seated next the landlord at a crowded table, and never got a
chicken-liver or the best cut from the roast." Lincoln once remarked to
Mr. Gillespie that he never felt his own unworthiness so much as when in
the presence of a hotel clerk or waiter. If rooms were scarce, and one,
two, three, or four gentlemen were required to lodge together in order
to accommodate some surly man who "stood upon his rights," Lincoln was
sure to be one of the unfortunates. Yet he loved the life of the
circuit, and never went home without reluctance.
In describing the many experiences of the lawyers who travelled the
circuits at this period, Mr. Arnold says: "The State was settled with a
hardy, fearless, honest, but very litigious population. The court-house
was sometimes framed and boarded, but more frequently it was built of
logs. The judge sat upon a raised platform behind a rough board,
sometimes covered with green baize, for a table on which to write his
notes. A small table stood on the floor in front for the clerk. In the
center of the room was another larger table around which in rude chairs
the lawyers were grouped, too often with their feet on top of it. Rough
benches were placed there for the jury, the parties to the suit,
witnesses and bystanders. The court-rooms were nearly always crowded for
here were rehearsed and acted the dramas, the tragedies, and the
comedies of real life. The court-house has always been a very attractive
place to the people of the frontier. It supplied the place of theatres,
lecture and concert rooms, and other places of interest and amusement in
the older settlements and towns. The leading lawyers and judges were the
star actors, and had each his partisans. Hence crowds attended the
courts to see the judges, to hear the lawyers contend, with argument and
law and wit, for success, victory, and fame. The merits and ability of
the leading advocates, their success or discomfiture in examining or
cross-examining a witness, the ability of this or that one to obtain a
verdict, were canvassed at every cabin-raising, bee, or horse-race, and
at every log-house and school in the county. Thus the lawyers were
stimulated to the utmost exertion of their powers, not only by
controversy and desire of success, but by the consciousness that their
efforts were watched with eagerness by friends, clients, partisans, or
rivals. From one to another of these rude court-houses the gentlemen of
the bar passed, following the judge around his circuits from county to
county, travelling generally on horseback, with saddle-bags, brushes, an
extra shirt or two, and perhaps two or three law books. Sometimes two or
three lawyers would unite and travel in a buggy, and the poorer and
younger ones not seldom walked. But a horse was not an unusual fee, and
in those days when horse thieves as clients were but too common, it was
not long before a young man of ability found himself well mounted.
"There was very great freedom in social intercourse. Manners were rude,
but genial, kind, and friendly. Each was always ready to assist his
fellows, and selfishness was not tolerated. The relations between the
bench and bar were familiar, free and easy. Flashes of wit and humor and
repartee were constantly exchanged. Such was the life upon which Lincoln
now entered; and there gathered with him around those pine tables of the
frontier court-house a very remarkable combination of men, men who
would have been leaders of the bar at Boston or New York, Philadelphia
or Washington; men who would have made their mark in Westminster Hall,
or upon any English circuit. At the capital were John T. Stuart, Stephen
T. Logan, Edward D. Baker, Ninian W. Edwards, Josiah Lamborn, and many
others. Among the leading lawyers from other parts of the State who
practiced in the Supreme and Federal Courts at the capital were Stephen
A. Douglas; Lyman Trumbull, for many years chairman of the judiciary
committee of the United States Senate; O.H. Browning, Senator and member
of the Cabinet at Washington; William H. Bissell, Member of Congress,
and Governor of the State; David Davis, justice of the Supreme Court,
Senator and Vice-President of the United States; Justin Butterfield of
Chicago, and many others almost or quite equally distinguished. This
'circuit riding' involved all sorts of adventures. Hard fare at
miserable country taverns, sleeping on the floor, and fording streams,
were every-day occurrences. All such occurrences were met with good
humor and often turned into sources of frolic and fun. In fording
swollen streams, Lincoln was frequently sent forward as a scout or
pioneer. His extremely long legs enabled him, by taking off his boots
and stockings, and by rolling up or otherwise disposing of his trousers,
to test the depth of the stream, find the most shallow water, and thus
to pilot the party through the current without wetting his garments."
A gentleman who lived in one of the judicial circuits of Illinois in
which Lincoln had an extensive though not very lucrative practice gives
some graphic and interesting reminiscences. "The terms of the court were
held quarterly and usually lasted about two weeks. They were always
seasons of great importance and much gayety in the little town that had
the honor of being the county seat. Distinguished members of the bar
from surrounding and even from distant counties, ex-judges and
ex-Members of Congress, attended and were personally and many of them
popularly known to almost every adult, male and female, of the limited
population. They came in by stages and on horseback. Among them the one
whose arrival was looked forward to with the most pleasurable
anticipations, and whose possible absence--although he almost never was
absent--was feared with the liveliest emotions of anxiety, was 'Uncle
Abe,' as he was lovingly called by us all. Sometimes he might happen to
be a day or two late. Then, as the Bloomington stage came in at sundown,
the bench and bar, jurors and citizens, would gather in crowds at the
hotel where he always put up, to give him a welcome if, happily, he
should arrive, and to experience the keenest feelings of disappointment
if he should not. If he arrived, as he alighted and stretched out both
his long arms to shake hands with those nearest to him and with those
who approached, his homely face handsome in its broad and sunshiny
smile, his voice touching in its kindly and cheerful accents, everyone
in his presence felt lighter in heart and more joyous. He brought light
with him. He loved his fellow-men with all the strength of his great
nature, and those who came in contact with him could not help
reciprocating the love."
Another old friend describes Lincoln as being at this time "very plain
in his costume, as well as rather uncourtly in his address and general
appearance. His clothing was of home Kentucky jean, and the first
impression made by his tall, lank figure upon those who saw him was not
specially prepossessing. He had not outgrown his hard backwoods
experience, and showed no inclination to disguise or to cast behind him
the honest and manly though unpolished characteristics of his earlier
days. Never was a man further removed from all snobbish affectation. As
little was there, also, of the demagogue art of assuming an uncouthness
or rusticity of manner and outward habit with the mistaken notion of
thus securing particular favor as 'one of the masses.' He chose to
appear then, as in all his later life, precisely what he was. His
deportment was unassuming, though without any awkwardness of reserve."
Mr. Crane, an old settler of Tazewell County, says he used to see
Lincoln when passing through Washington, in that county, on his way to
attend court at Metamora; and he remembers him as "dressed in a homespun
coat that came below his knees and was out at both elbows."
Lincoln's tenderness of heart was displayed in his treatment of animals,
toward which he was often performing unusual acts of kindness. On one
occasion, as Mr. Speed relates, Lincoln and the other members of the
Springfield bar had been attending court at Christiansburg, and Mr.
Speed was riding with them toward Springfield. There was quite a party
of these lawyers, riding two by two along a country lane. Lincoln and
John J. Hardin brought up the rear of the cavalcade. "We had passed
through a thicket of wild plum and crab-apple trees," says Mr. Speed,
"and stopped to water our horses. Hardin came up alone. 'Where is
Lincoln?' we inquired. 'Oh,' replied he, 'when I saw him last he had
caught two young birds which the wind had blown out of their nests, and
he was hunting the nest to put them back.' In a short time Lincoln came
up, having found the nest and placed the young birds in it. The party
laughed at him; but he said, 'I could not have slept if I had not
restored those little birds to their mother.'"
Again, as Dr. Holland narrates, "Lincoln was one day riding by a deep
slough or pit in which, to his exceeding pain, he saw a pig struggling,
and with such faint efforts that it was evident that he could not
extricate himself. Lincoln looked at the pig and the mud that enveloped
him, and then looked ruefully at some new clothes in which he had but a
short time before enveloped himself. Deciding against the claims of the
pig he rode on; but he could not get rid of the vision of the poor
brute, and at last, after riding two miles, he turned back, determined
to rescue the animal at the expense of his new clothes. Arrived at the
spot, he tied his horse, and coolly went to work to build of old rails a
passage to the bottom of the hole. Descending on these rails, he seized
the pig and dragged him out, but not without serious damage to the
clothes he wore. Washing his hands in the nearest brook and wiping them
on the grass, he mounted his gig and rode along. He then fell to
examining the motive that sent him back to the release of the pig. At
the first thought it seemed to be pure benevolence; but at length he
came to the conclusion that it was selfishness, for he certainly went to
the pig's relief in order (as he said to the friend to whom he related
the incident) to 'take a pain out of his own mind.'"
Instances showing the integrity, candor, unselfishness, and humanity of
Lincoln's conduct in his law practice could be multiplied indefinitely.
The following are given by Dr. Holland: "The lawyers of Springfield,
particularly those who had political aspirations, were afraid to
undertake the defense of anyone who had been engaged in helping off
fugitives slaves. It was a very unpopular business in those days and in
that locality; and few felt that they could afford to engage in it. One
who needed such aid went to Edward D. Baker, and was refused, distinctly
and frankly on the ground that as a political man he could not afford
it. The man applied to an ardent anti-slavery friend for advice. He
spoke of Mr. Lincoln, and said, 'He's not afraid of an unpopular case.
When I go for a lawyer to defend an arrested fugitive slave, other
lawyers will refuse me. But if Mr. Lincoln is at home he will always
take my case.'"
An old woman of seventy-five years, the widow of a revolutionary
pensioner, came tottering into his law office one day, and told him that
a certain pension agent had charged her the exorbitant fee of two
hundred dollars for collecting her pension. Lincoln was satisfied by
her representations that she had been swindled, and finding that she was
not a resident of the town, and that she was poor, gave her money, and
set about the work of procuring restitution. He immediately entered suit
against the agent to recover a portion of his ill-gotten money. This
suit was one of the most remarkable that Lincoln ever conducted. The day
before the case came up he asked his partner, Mr. Herndon, to get him a
"Life of Washington," and he spent the whole afternoon reading it. His
speech to the jury was long remembered. The whole court-room was in
tears as he closed with these words: "Gentlemen of the jury. Time rolls
by. The heroes of '76 have passed away. They are encamped on the other
shore. This soldier has gone to his rest, and now, crippled, blinded,
and broken, his widow comes to you and to me, gentlemen of the jury, to
right her wrongs. She was not always as you see her now. Once her step
was elastic. Her face was fair. Her voice was as sweet as any that rang
in the mountains of old Virginia. Now she is old. She is poor and
defenceless. Out here on the prairies of Illinois, hundreds of miles
from the scenes of her childhood, she appeals to you and to me who enjoy
the privileges achieved for us by the patriots of the Revolution for our
sympathetic aid and manly protection. I have but one question to ask
you, gentlemen of the jury. Shall we befriend her?" During the speech
the defendant sat huddled up in the court-room, writhing under the lash
of Lincoln's tongue. The jury returned a verdict for every cent that
Lincoln had asked. He became the old lady's surety for costs, paid her
hotel bill and sent her home rejoicing. He made no charges for his own
or his partner's services. A few days afterwards Mr. Herndon picked up a
little scrap of paper in the office. He looked at it a moment, and burst
into a roar of laughter. It was Lincoln's notes for the argument of this
case. They were unique:--"No contract--Not professional
services--Unreasonable charges--Money retained by Deft not given by
Pl'ff.--Revolutionary War--Describe Valley Forge--Ice--Soldiers'
bleeding feet--Pl'ff's husband--Soldiers leaving home for the
army--_Skin Def't_--Close."
In his Autobiography, Joseph Jefferson tells how he visited Springfield
with a theatrical company in the early days (1839) and planned to open a
theatrical season in that godly town. But "a religious revival was in
progress, and the fathers of the church not only launched forth against
us in their sermons, but got the city to pass a new law enjoining a
heavy license against our 'unholy' calling. I forget the amount, but it
was large enough to be prohibitory." The company had begun the building
of a new theatre; and naturally the situation was perplexing. In the
midst of their trouble, says Mr. Jefferson, "a young lawyer called on
the Managers. He had heard of the injustice, and offered, if they would
place the matter in his hands, to have the license taken off,--declaring
that he only wanted to see fair play, and he would accept no fee whether
he failed or succeeded. The case was brought up before the council. The
young lawyer began his harangue. He handled the subject with tact,
skill, and humor, tracing the history of the drama from the time when
Thespis acted in a cart, to the stage of to-day. He illustrated his
speech with a number of anecdotes, and kept the council in a roar of
laughter. His good humor prevailed, and the exorbitant tax was taken
off. This young lawyer was very popular in Springfield, and was honored
and beloved by all who knew him; and after the time of which I write he
held rather an important position in the Government of the United
States. He now lies buried in Springfield, under a monument
commemorating his greatness and his virtues,--and his name was Abraham
Lincoln."
Judge Gillespie tells a good story, to the effect that Lincoln and
General U.P. Linder were once defending a man who was being tried on a
criminal charge before Judge David Davis, who said at dinner-time that
the case must be disposed of that night. Lincoln suggested that the best
thing they could do would be to run Benedict, the prosecuting attorney,
as far into the night as possible, in hopes that he might, in his rage,
commit some indiscretion that would help their case. Lincoln began, but
to save his life he could not speak one hour, and the laboring oar fell
into Linder's hands. "But," said Lincoln, "he was equal to the occasion.
He spoke most interestingly three mortal hours, about everything in the
world. He discussed Benedict from head to foot, and put in about
three-quarters of an hour on the subject of Benedict's whiskers."
Lincoln said he never envied a man so much as he did Linder on that
occasion. He thought he was inimitable in his capacity to talk
interestingly about everything and nothing, by the hour.
But if Lincoln had not General Linder's art of "talking against time,"
his wit often suggested some readier method of gaining advantage in a
case. On one occasion, a suit was on trial in the Circuit Court of
Sangamon County, in which Lincoln was attorney for the plaintiff, and
Mr. James C. Conkling, then a young man just entering practice, was
attorney for the defendant. It was a jury trial, and Lincoln waived the
opening argument to the jury, leaving Mr. Conkling to sum up his case
for the defense. The latter spoke at considerable length, in a
sophomoric style, laboring under the impression that unless he made an
extraordinary exertion to influence the jury he would be quite eclipsed
by Lincoln in his closing speech. But he was completely taken back by
the unlooked-for light manner in which Lincoln treated the case in his
closing. Lincoln proceeded to reply but, in doing so he talked on
without making the slightest reference to the case on hearing or to the
argument of Mr. Conkling. His summing-up to the jury was to the
following effect: "Gentlemen of the jury: In early days there lived in
this vicinity, over on the Sangamon river, an old Indian of the Kickapoo
tribe by the name of Johnnie Kongapod. He had been taken in charge by
some good missionaries, converted to Christianity, and educated to such
extent that he could read and write. He took a great fancy to poetry and
became somewhat of a poet himself. His desire was that after his death
there should be placed at the head of his grave an epitaph, which he
prepared himself, in rhyme, in the following words:
"'Here lies poor Johnnie Kongapod;
Have mercy on him, gracious God,
As he would do if he were God
And you were Johnnie Kongapod.'"
Of course all this had no reference to the case, nor did Lincoln intend
it should have any. It was merely his way of ridiculing the eloquence of
his opponent. The verdict of the jury was for the plaintiff, as Lincoln
expected it would be; and this was the reason of his treating the case
as he did.
A story somewhat similar to the above was told by the late Judge John
Pearson shortly before his death. In the February term, 1850, of the
Circuit Court of Vermilion County, Illinois, a case was being tried in
which a young lady had brought suit for $10,000 against a recreant lover
who had married another girl. The amount sued for was thought to be an
enormous sum in those days, and the ablest talent to be found was
brought into requisition by both sides. Richard Thompson and Daniel W.
Voorhees were associated with O.L. Davis for the fair plaintiff. H.W.
Beckwith, Ward Lamon, and Abraham Lincoln were for the defendant. The
little town of Danville was crowded with people from far and near who
had come to hear the big speeches. The evidence brought out in the
trial was in every way against the defendant, and the sympathy of the
public was, naturally enough, with the young lady plaintiff. Lincoln and
his associate counsel plainly saw the hopelessness of their cause; and
they wisely concluded to let their side of the case stand upon its
merits, without even a plea of extenuating circumstances. Voorhees was
young, ambitious, and anxious to display his oratory. He arranged with
his colleagues at the beginning that he should make a speech, and he
spent several hours in his room at the hotel in the preparation of an
oratorical avalanche. It became generally known that Dan was going to
out-do himself, and the expectation of the community was at its highest
tension. The little old court-house was crowded. The ladies were out in
full force. Voorhees came in a little late, glowing with the excitement
of the occasion. It had been arranged that Davis was to open, Lincoln
was to follow, and Voorhees should come next. Mr. Davis made a clear
statement of the case, recited the character of the evidence, and closed
with a plain logical argument. Then Lincoln arose, and stood in silence
for a moment, looking at the jury. He deliberately re-arranged some of
the books and papers on the table before him, as though "making a good
ready," as he used to say, and began in a spirited but deliberate way:
"Your Honor, the evidence in this case is all in, and doubtless all
concerned comprehend its fullest import without the aid of further
argument. Therefore we will rest our case here." This move, of course,
cut off all future discussion. Voorhees, with his load of pyrotechnics
was shut out. An ominous silence followed Lincoln's remark; then
Voorhees arose, white with rage, and entered a protest against the
tactics of the defense. All the others were disappointed, but amused,
and the only consolation that Voorhees got out of this affair was a
verdict for the full amount claimed by his client. But he never forgave
Lincoln for thus "nipping" his great speech "in the bud."
Mr. Wickizer gives a story which illustrates the off-hand readiness of
Lincoln's wit. "In the court at Bloomington Mr. Lincoln was engaged in a
case of no great importance; but the attorney on the other side, Mr. S.,
a young lawyer of fine abilities, was always very sensitive about being
beaten, and in this case he manifested unusual zeal and interest. The
case lasted until late at night, when it was finally submitted to the
jury. Mr. S. spent a sleepless night in anxiety, and early next morning
learned, to his great chagrin, that he had lost the case. Mr. Lincoln
met him at the court-house and asked him what had become of his case.
With lugubrious countenance and melancholy tone, Mr. S. said, 'It's gone
to hell!' 'Oh, well!' replied Lincoln, 'Never mind,--you can try it
again there!'"
Lincoln was always ready to join in a laugh at his own expense, and used
to tell the following story with intense enjoyment: "In the days when I
used to be 'on the circuit' I was accosted in the cars by a stranger who
said, 'Excuse me, sir, but I have an article in my possession which
belongs to you.' 'How is that?' I asked, considerably astonished. The
stranger took a jack-knife from his pocket. 'This knife,' said he, 'was
placed in my hands some years ago with the injunction that I was to keep
it until I found a man uglier than myself. I have carried it from that
time to this. Allow me to say, sir, that I think you are fairly entitled
to the property.'"
Mr. Gillespie says of Lincoln's passion for story-telling: "As a boon
companion, Lincoln, although he never drank liquor or used tobacco in
any form, was without a rival. No one would ever think of 'putting in'
when he was talking. He could illustrate any subject, it seemed to me,
with an appropriate and amusing anecdote. He did not tell stories merely
for the sake of telling them, but rather by way of illustration of
something that had happened or been said. There seemed to be no end to
his fund of stories." Mr. Lamon states: "Lincoln frequently said that he
lived by his humor and would have died without it. His manner of telling
a story was irresistibly comical, the fun of it dancing in his eyes and
playing over every feature. His face changed in an instant; the hard
lines faded out of it, and the mirth seemed to diffuse itself all over
him like a spontaneous tickle. You could see it coming long before he
opened his mouth, and he began to enjoy the 'point' before his eager
auditors could catch the faintest glimpse of it. Telling and hearing
ridiculous stories was one of his ruling passions." A good illustration
of this fondness for story-telling is given by Judge Sibley, of Quincy,
Illinois, who knew Lincoln when practicing law at Springfield. One day a
party of lawyers were sitting in the law library of the court-house at
Springfield, awaiting the opening of court, and telling stories to fill
the time. Judge Breese of the Supreme bench--one of the most
distinguished of American jurists, and a man of great personal
dignity--passed through the room where the lawyers were sitting, on his
way to open court. Lincoln, seeing him, called out in his hearty way,
"Hold on, Breese! Don't open court yet! Here's Bob Blackwell just going
to tell a new story!" The judge passed on without replying, evidently
regarding it as beneath the dignity of the Supreme Court to delay
proceedings for the sake of a story.