He first attended school when he was about seven years old and still living in Kentucky. It was held in a little log-hut near their cabin, and was taught by Zachariah Riney, an Irish Catholic of whom he retained a pleasant memory, for it was there that he learned to read. The next year Caleb Hazel opened a school about four miles distant, which Lincoln attended for three months with his sister Sarah, and both of them learned to write. He had no more teaching while he lived in Kentucky, except from his mother. There is no record of his schooling in Indiana, but the neighbors testify that in his tenth year he attended school for a few months in a small cabin of round logs about a mile and a half from the rude home of his father; there he went again for a few months when he was fourteen years old, and again in 1826, when he was seventeen, to a man named Swaney, who taught at a distance of four miles and a half from the Lincoln cabin. He had little encouragement from his father, for the latter considered the daily walk of nine miles and the six hours spent in the school-room a waste of time for a boy six feet tall. His step-mother, however, endeavored to encourage and protect him in his efforts to learn, and they studied together. He read her the books he borrowed, and they used to discuss the unintelligible passages. He was not remarkably quick at learning. On the contrary, his perceptions were rather dull; but that is often an advantage to a studious mind, as everything increases in value with the effort required to attain it. His memory was good, his power of reasoning was early developed, and a habit of reflection was acquired at an early age. He once remarked to a friend that his mind did not take impressions easily, but they were never effaced. "I am slow to learn, and slow to forget that which I have learned," he said. "My mind is like a piece of steel—very hard to scratch anything on it, and almost impossible after you get it there to rub it out." The fact that he never abandoned an idea until it was thoroughly understood was the foundation of a healthy mental growth.

At this time, when he was seventeen years old, he had a general knowledge of the rudiments of learning. He was a good arithmetician, he had some knowledge of geography and history, he could "spell down" the whole county at spelling-school, and wrote a clear and neat hand. His general reading embraced poetry and a few novels. He even attempted to make rhymes, although he was not very successful. He wrote several prose compositions, and it is related that "one of the most popular amusements in the neighborhood was to hear Abe Lincoln make a comic speech."

Lincoln received no more teaching, but continued his reading and study until his family removed to Illinois. When he went to New Salem, after he had made his second voyage to New Orleans, and was waiting for Denton Offutt to open his store, a local election was held. One of the clerks of election being unable to attend, Menton Graham, the other clerk, who was also the village school-master, asked Lincoln if he could write.

"I can make a few rabbit tracks," was the reply, and upon that admission he was sworn into his first office.

Thus began one of the most useful friendships he ever enjoyed, for Graham was an intelligent and sympathetic friend who inspired the future President with ambition, nourished his appetite for knowledge, loaned him books, assisted him in his studies, heard him recite, corrected his compositions, and was his constant companion while he was clerking in Offutt's store. One day Graham told him that he ought to study grammar, and the next morning Lincoln walked six miles to a neighboring town to obtain a copy of Kirkham's "Grammar." This volume was found in his library after his death. It was Graham, too, who in six weeks taught him the science of surveying after Lincoln was appointed deputy to John Calhoun. From none of his many friends did he receive more valuable counsel and assistance.

After he was admitted to the bar and became a member of the Legislature, he continued a regular course of study, including mathematics, logic, rhetoric, astronomy, literature, and other branches, devoting a certain number of hours to it every day. He followed this rule even after his marriage, and several years after his return from Congress he joined a German class which met in his office two evenings a week.

His early friends have always contended that his devotion to study hastened the failure of the mercantile enterprise which caused him so much anxiety and left the burden of debt upon his shoulders which he carried so many years; for when he should have been attending to the store and watching the dissolute habits of his partner, he was absorbed in his books.

His ambition to be a lawyer was stimulated by a curious incident that occurred soon after he went into partnership with Berry. He related it himself in these words:

"One day a man who was migrating to the West drove up in front of my store with a wagon which contained his family and household plunder. He asked me if I would buy an old barrel for which he had no room in his wagon, and which he said contained nothing of special value. I did not want it, but to oblige him I bought it, and paid him, I think, half a dollar for it. Without further examination I put it away in the store and forgot all about it. Some time after, in overhauling things, I came upon the barrel, and emptying it upon the floor to see what it contained, I found at the bottom of the rubbish a complete edition of Blackstone's 'Commentaries.' I began to read those famous works, and I had plenty of time; for during the long summer days, when the farmers were busy with their crops, my customers were few and far between. The more I read"—this he said with unusual emphasis—"the more intensely interested I became. Never in my whole life was my mind so thoroughly absorbed. I read until I devoured them."

It was while he was still a deputy surveyor that Lincoln was elected to the Legislature, and in his autobiographical notes he says, "During the canvass, in a private conversation, Major John T. Stuart (one of his fellow-candidates) encouraged Abraham to study law. After the election he borrowed books of Stuart, took them home with him and went at it in good earnest. He never studied with anybody. As he tramped back and forth from Springfield, twenty miles away, to get his law books, he read sometimes forty pages or more on the way. The subject seemed to be never out of his mind. It was the great absorbing interest of his life." The rule he gave twenty years later to a young man who wanted to know how to become a lawyer, was the one he practised: "Get books and read and study them carefully. Begin with Blackstone's 'Commentaries,' say twice, take Chitty's 'Pleadings,' Greenleaf's 'Evidence,' and Story's 'Equity,' in succession. Work, work, work is the main thing."

Immediately after his election he went to Springfield and was admitted to the bar on September 9, 1836. His name first appears upon the list of the attorneys and counsellors-at-law published at the opening of the next term, March 1, 1837. As there was no lawyer in the neighborhood of New Salem, and none nearer than Springfield, Lincoln had obtained a little practice in petty cases before the village magistrate, and it is stated that, poor as he was, he never accepted a fee for such services because he felt that he was fully paid by the experience.

For a long time he was in doubt as to the expediency of abandoning his work as surveyor, which brought him from twelve to fifteen dollars a month, for the uncertain income of a lawyer, for he was still burdened by debt, and was constantly called upon for money by his step-mother and step-brother; but John T. Stuart, with whom he had been associated in politics and in the Black Hawk War, and who had proved to be a true friend, offered him a partnership, and Stuart was one of the leading lawyers of the State. Therefore, Lincoln decided to take the chances, and, on April 15, 1837, rode into Springfield, says his friend Joshua Speed, "on a borrowed horse, with no earthly property save a pair of saddle-bags containing a few clothes."

His first case was that of Hawthorne vs. Woolridge, his first fee was three dollars, and he made his first appearance in court in October, 1836. We do not know the details. He created a sensation the following summer, and for the first time revealed some of the characteristics which afterwards made him famous by his merciless pursuit of a rascal named Adams who had swindled the widow of one Joseph Anderson out of some land. His treatment of this case advertised him far and wide in the country around Springfield as a shrewd practitioner and a man of tireless energy, and it doubtless brought him considerable business. The account-book of Stuart & Lincoln is still preserved, and shows that their fees were very small,—not exceeding sixteen hundred dollars for the year and seldom more than ten dollars in a case; while many of them were traded out at the town groceries, and, in the case of farmers, were paid in vegetables, poultry, butter, and other produce. But that was the custom of the time, and at that date a fee of one hundred dollars was as rare as one of ten thousand dollars now.

In those days, because of the scattering population and the absence of transportation facilities, it was customary for courts to travel in circuits, each circuit being presided over by a judge who went from one county-seat to another twice a year to hear whatever cases had accumulated upon the docket. Springfield was situated in the Eighth Judicial Circuit, which at that time was one hundred and fifty miles square, including fifteen counties comprising the central part of Illinois. As there were no railroads, the judge travelled on horseback or in a carriage, followed by a number of lawyers. The best-known lawyers had central offices at Springfield and branch offices at the different county-seats, where they were represented permanently by junior partners, who prepared their cases and attended to litigation of minor importance.

When the county-seat was reached the judge was given the best room at the hotel and presided at the dining-room table, surrounded by lawyers, jurors, witnesses, litigants, prisoners out on bail, and even the men who drove their teams. The hotels were primitive and limited, and, as the sitting of a court usually attracted all the idle men in the vicinity, the landlords were taxed to accommodate their guests, and packed them in as closely as possible; usually two in a bed and often as many as could find room on the floor. The townspeople made the semi-annual meeting of the court an occasion for social festivities, the judge being the guest of honor at dinners, receptions, quiltings, huskings, weddings, and other entertainments, while the lawyers ranked according to their social standing and accomplishments.

In some of the towns there was no court-house, and trials were held in a church or a school-house, and sometimes, when the weather was favorable, in the open air.

When there was no entertainment of an evening, the members of the bar and their clients who were not preparing for a trial on the morrow amused themselves by playing cards, telling stories, and discussing public affairs, so that all who "followed the circuit" became thoroughly acquainted and each was estimated according to his true value. Trials of general interest were attended by the entire cavalcade, but dull arguments and routine business attracted the attention of those only who were personally concerned. In the mean time the rest of the party would sit around the tavern or court-house yard, entertaining themselves and one another in the most agreeable manner, and naturally Mr. Lincoln's talents as a story-teller made him popular and his personal character made him beloved by every one with whom he came in contact. The meeting of the Supreme Court once a year at Springfield was the great event, next to the assembling of the Legislature, and served as a reunion of the ablest men in the State. These usually had causes to try or motions to submit, or if they had none would make some excuse for attending the gathering. The Supreme Court Library was their rendezvous, and Lincoln was the centre of attraction, even when he was a young man; when he became older his presence was regarded as necessary to a successful evening. His stories were as much a part of these annual gatherings as the decisions of the court, and after this custom became obsolete the older lawyers retained with an affectionate interest the memories of their association with him.

David Davis, afterwards Justice of the United States Supreme Court and a member of the United States Senate from Illinois, presided over the Eighth Circuit for many years while Lincoln was in practice, and was one of his most ardent admirers and devoted friends. It is said that he would not sit down at the table for dinner or supper until Lincoln was present. One day, during the trial of a cause, when Lincoln was the centre of a group in a distant corner of the court-room, exchanging whispered stories, Judge Davis rapped on the bench and, calling him by name, exclaimed,—

"Mr. Lincoln, this must stop! There is no use in trying to carry on two courts; one of them will have to adjourn, and I think yours will have to be the one;" and as soon as the group scattered, Judge Davis called one of the group to the bench and asked him to repeat the stories Lincoln had been telling.

Books of reminiscences written by the men who lived in Illinois in those days are filled with anecdotes of him, and, even now, it is common in arguments before the courts in that part of the State to quote what Lincoln said or did under similar circumstances, and his opinions have the force of judicial decisions.

In his autobiography, Joseph Jefferson tells an interesting story of the experience of his father's theatrical company when it was travelling through Illinois in 1839. He was then a child of ten years. After playing at Chicago, Quincy, Peoria, and Pekin, the company went to Springfield, where the presence of the Legislature tempted the elder Jefferson and his company to remain throughout the season. There was no theatre, so they built one; it was scarcely completed before a religious revival turned the influence of the church people against their performances so effectually that a law was passed by the municipality imposing a license which was practically prohibitory. In the midst of their troubles, says Jefferson, a young lawyer called on the managers and offered, if they would place the matter in his hands, to have the license revoked, declaring that he only desired to see fair play, and would accept no fee whether he failed or succeeded. The young lawyer handled the case with tact, skill, and humor, in his argument 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 pointed anecdotes which kept the City Council in a roar of laughter. "This good-humor prevailed," relates the famous actor, "and the exhibition tax was taken off." The young lawyer was Lincoln.

Many of the reminiscences relate to Lincoln's skill at cross-examination, in which, it is asserted, he had no equal at the Illinois bar. Judge Davis declared that he had the rare gift of compelling a witness, either friendly or unfriendly, to tell the whole truth, and seldom resorted to the browbeating tactics so often used by attorneys. He never irritated a witness, but treated him so kindly and courteously as to disarm him of any hostile intention.

He never used a word which the dullest juryman could not understand. A lawyer quoting a legal maxim one day in court, turned to Lincoln and said, "That is so, is it not, Mr. Lincoln?"

"If that's Latin," Lincoln replied, "you had better call another witness."

Mr. T. W. S. Kidd says that he once heard a lawyer opposed to Lincoln trying to convince a jury that precedent was superior to law, and that custom made things legal in all cases. When Lincoln rose to answer, he told the jury he would argue his case in the same way. Said he, "Old Squire Bagly, from Menard, came into my office and said, 'Lincoln, I want your advice as a lawyer. Has a man what's been elected justice of the peace a right to issue a marriage license?' I told him he had not; when the old squire threw himself back in his chair very indignantly, and said, 'Lincoln, I thought you was a lawyer. Now, Bob Thomas and me had a bet on this thing, and we agreed to let you decide; but if this is your opinion I don't want it, for I know a thunderin' sight better, for I have been squire now eight years and have done it all the time.'"

Lincoln always felt and frequently expressed a deep sense of gratitude to Judge Stephen T. Logan, his second partner, with whom he became associated in 1841. Judge Logan was the recognized head of his profession in the central part of the State, a man of high ideals, noble character, and excellent professional habits. Such example and instruction were of the greatest service in forming Lincoln's professional habits, because he was naturally careless in his methods, and at that period of his life was inclined to depend upon his wits rather than his knowledge and to indulge in emotional bursts of oratory rather than simple, convincing logic. He attributed his superior faculty in presenting a case to Judge Logan's instructions. Nor was he the only man who owed much of his success in life to this great preceptor. Four of Judge Logan's law students found their way to the United States Senate and three were Governors of States.

When Lincoln's experience in Congress had extended his reputation, broadened his ideas, and given him a better knowledge of men and things, his practical value as a partner was recognized by the members of one of the most prominent law firms in Chicago, who invited him to join them; but he declined on the ground that his family ties as well as his professional connections were in Springfield, and he feared that his health would not endure the close confinement of a city office.

Among Lincoln's manuscripts after his death were found a few pages of notes evidently intended or, perhaps, used at some time for a lecture to law students, and which express in a very clear manner his opinions as to the ethics of practice. His words should be printed upon card-board and hung in every law office in the land.

"... Extemporaneous speaking should be practised and cultivated. It is the lawyer's avenue to the public. However able and faithful he may be in other respects, people are slow to bring him business if he cannot make a speech. And yet, there is not a more fatal error to young lawyers than relying too much on speech-making. If any one, upon his rare powers of speaking, shall claim an exemption from the drudgery of the law, his case is a failure in advance. Discourage litigation. Persuade your neighbors to compromise whenever you can. Point out to them how the nominal winner is often a real loser—in fees, expenses, and waste of time. As a peacemaker, the lawyer has a superior opportunity of being a good man. There will still be business enough. Never stir up litigation. A worse man can scarcely be found than one who does this. Who can be more nearly a fiend than he who habitually overhauls the register of deeds in search of defects in titles, whereon to stir up strife and put money in his pocket? A moral tone ought to be infused into the profession which should drive such men out of it.... There is a vague popular belief that lawyers are necessarily dishonest. I say vague because, when we consider to what extent confidence and honors are reposed in and conferred upon lawyers by the people, it appears improbable that their impression of dishonesty is very distinct and vivid. Yet the impression is common,—almost universal. Let no young man choosing the law for a calling for a moment yield to the popular belief. Resolve to be honest at all events; and if, in your own judgment, you cannot be an honest lawyer, resolve to be honest without being a lawyer. Choose some other occupation rather than one in the choosing of which you do, in advance, consent to be a knave."

Lincoln and McClellan first met three or four years before the war, when the latter was Vice-President and Chief Engineer of the Illinois Central Railroad and the former was attorney for that company. General McClellan, in his autobiography, gives an account of his relations with Lincoln at that time, but they were never intimate.

In 1859, when Lincoln appeared for the Illinois Central Railroad in a case which it did not wish to try at that term, he remarked to the court,—

"We are not ready for trial."

"Why is not the company ready to go to trial?" remarked Judge Davis.

"We are embarrassed by the absence of Captain McClellan," was Lincoln's reply.

"Who is Captain McClellan and why is he not here?" asked Judge Davis.

"All I know," said Mr. Lincoln, "is that he is the engineer of the railroad, and why he is not here deponent saith not."

It has been frequently said that General McClellan refused to pay Lincoln a fee charged for trying a case for the Illinois Central Railroad, but it is not true. At the time referred to (1855) Captain McClellan was in the regular army and a military attaché in Europe during the Crimean War. It was, however, the only time that Lincoln sued for a fee, and the circumstances were as follows. By its charter the Illinois Central Railroad was exempt from taxation on condition that it pay into the State treasury seven per cent. of its gross earnings. The officials of McLean County contended that the Legislature of the State had no authority to exempt or remit county taxes, and brought a suit against the road to compel payment. Lincoln defended the company, won the case, and presented a bill for two thousand dollars. An official of the railroad, whose name has been forgotten, declined payment on the ground that it was as much as a first-class lawyer would charge. Lincoln was so indignant that he withdrew the original bill of charges, consulted professional friends, and later submitted another for five thousand dollars with a memorandum attached, signed by six of the most prominent lawyers in the State, giving as their opinion that the fee was not unreasonable. As the company still refused to pay, Lincoln sued and recovered the full amount.

Lincoln's theory regarding fees for professional services is expressed in the notes of the law lecture previously referred to, and was as follows:

"The matter of fees is important, far beyond the mere question of bread and butter involved. Properly attended to, fuller justice is done to both lawyer and client. An exorbitant fee should never be claimed. As a general rule, never take your whole fee in advance, nor any more than a small retainer. When fully paid beforehand, you are more than a common mortal if you can feel the same interest in the case as if something was still in prospect for you as well as for your client. And when you lack interest in the case the job will very likely lack skill and diligence in the performance. Settle the amount of fee and take a note in advance. Then you will feel that you are working for something, and you are sure to do your work faithfully and well. Never sell a fee note,—at least not before the consideration service is performed. It leads to negligence and dishonesty,—negligence by losing interest in the case, and dishonesty in refusing to refund when you have allowed the consideration to fail."

If a client was poor he charged him accordingly, and if he was unable to pay asked nothing for his services. It was one of his theories that a lawyer, like a minister of the Gospel or a physician, was in duty bound to render service whenever called upon, regardless of the prospects of compensation, and in several cases he offered his services without compensation to people who had suffered injustice and were unable to pay. As a rule, his fees were less than those of other lawyers of his circuit. Justice Davis once remonstrated with him, and insisted that he was doing a grave injustice to his associates at the bar by charging so little for his services. From 1850 to 1860 his income varied from two to three thousand dollars, and even when he was recognized as one of the ablest lawyers of the State his fee-book frequently shows charges of three dollars, five dollars, and one dollar for advice, although he never went into court for less than ten dollars. During that period he was at the height of his power and popularity, and lawyers of less standing and talent charged several times those amounts. But avarice was the least of his faults.

While he was President a certain Senator was charged with an attempt to swindle the government out of some millions. Discussing the scandal one day with some friends, he remarked that he could not understand why men should be so eager after wealth. "Wealth," said he, "is simply a superfluity of what we don't need."

An examination of the dockets of the Illinois Supreme Court shows that during a period of twenty years, beginning with 1840 and ending with his election to the Presidency, he had nearly one hundred cases before that court, which is an unusual record and has been surpassed by few lawyers in the history of the State and by none of his contemporaries. It was declared, in an oration delivered by one of his associates, that "In his career as a lawyer he traversed a wide range of territory, attended many courts and had a variety of cases, and in all his conflicts at the bar he was successful in every case where he ought to have been."

When he went to Washington to become President his debts were entirely paid and he was worth about ten thousand dollars in real estate and other property.

A singular story is told of a case in which a good many prominent men were involved besides Lincoln. Abraham Brokaw, of Bloomington, loaned five hundred dollars to one of his neighbors and took a note, which remained unpaid. Action was brought, the sheriff levied on the property of the debtor and collected the entire amount, but neglected to turn the proceeds over. Brokaw employed Stephen A. Douglas, who collected the amount from the bondsman of the sheriff, but returned to his seat in the Senate at Washington without making a settlement. Like some other great men, Douglas was very careless about money matters, and, after appealing to him again and again, Brokaw employed David Davis to bring suit against the Senator. Being an intimate friend and fellow-Democrat, Davis disliked to appear in the case, and by his advice Brokaw engaged the services of Lincoln. The latter wrote to Douglas at Washington that he had a claim against him for collection and must insist upon prompt payment. Douglas became very indignant and reproached Brokaw for placing such a political weapon in the hands of an abolitionist. Brokaw sent Douglas's letter to Lincoln, and the latter employed "Long John" Wentworth, then a Democratic member of Congress from Chicago, as an associate in the case. Wentworth saw Douglas, persuaded him to pay the money, and forwarded five hundred dollars to Lincoln, who, in turn, paid it to Brokaw and sent him a bill of three dollars and fifty cents for professional services.

Lincoln's greatest legal triumph was the acquittal of an old neighbor named Duff Armstrong, who was charged with murder, and several witnesses testified that they saw the accused commit the deed one night about eleven o'clock. Lincoln attempted no cross-examination, except to persuade them to reiterate their statements and to explain that they were able to see the act distinctly because of the bright moonlight. By several of the prosecuting witnesses he proved the exact position and size of the moon at the time of the murder. The prosecution there rested, and Lincoln, addressing the court and the jury, announced that he had no defence to submit except an almanac, which would show that there was no moon on that night. The State's attorney was paralyzed, but the court admitted the almanac as competent testimony, and every witness was completely impeached and convicted of perjury. The verdict was not guilty.

One of the most important cases in which Lincoln was ever engaged involved the ownership of a patent for the reaping machines manufactured by Cyrus H. McCormick, of Chicago, who sued John Manny, of Rockford, for infringement. McCormick was represented by E. N. Dickerson and Reverdy Johnson. Manny was represented by Edwin M. Stanton, who was afterwards Lincoln's Secretary of War; Peter H. Watson, who was afterwards Assistant Secretary of War; and George Harding, of Philadelphia. The case was tried in Cincinnati, and, to his intense disappointment and chagrin, Lincoln was not allowed to make an argument he had prepared because the court would not permit four arguments on one side and only two on the other. Lincoln was extremely anxious to meet in debate Reverdy Johnson, of Baltimore, who was then regarded by many as the leader of the American bar; but he accepted the situation gracefully though regretfully, watched the case closely as it proceeded, took careful notes which he furnished Mr. Harding, and gave the latter the benefit of his written argument, but requested him not to show it to Mr. Stanton. There is no doubt that he felt that Mr. Stanton had been guilty of professional discourtesy in refusing to insist that the court hear Lincoln as well as himself, believing that this concession would have been granted if the demand had been pressed, or if Mr. Stanton had proposed that the time allowed for argument be divided. Mr. Stanton was not unaware of Lincoln's wishes, for they were fully explained to him by Mr. Harding, who urged him to give Lincoln an opportunity to speak, but, being the senior counsel in the case, he assigned Mr. Harding, who was a patent expert, to submit the technical side of the case, and assumed the entire responsibility of making the legal argument himself.

This incident is particularly interesting in connection with the future relations between the two men, and it is certain that Lincoln was profoundly impressed with Mr. Stanton's ability in the presentation of his case. The matter was never alluded to by either during their long and intimate association at Washington. A young lawyer from Rockford who had studied with Lincoln was in Cincinnati at the time and attended the trial. When the court adjourned after Stanton's argument they walked together to their hotel. Mr. Emerson says that Lincoln seemed dejected, and, turning to him suddenly, exclaimed in an impulsive manner,—

"Emerson, I am going home to study law."

"'Why,' I exclaimed, 'Mr. Lincoln, you stand at the head of the bar in Illinois now! What are you talking about?'

"'Ah, yes,' he said, 'I do occupy a good position there, and I think I can get along with the way things are done there now. But these college-trained men, who have devoted their whole lives to study, are coming West, don't you see? And they study their cases as we never do. They have got as far as Cincinnati now. They will soon be in Illinois.' Another long pause; then stopping and turning towards me, his countenance suddenly assuming that look of strong determination which those who knew him best sometimes saw upon his face, he exclaimed, 'I am going home to study law! I am as good as any of them, and when they get out to Illinois I will be ready for them.'"

While Mr. Lincoln was not a sensitive man in the ordinary sense of that term, he felt keenly his own deficiencies in education; nor did he lose this feeling when his ability as a statesman was recognized by the entire universe and he held the destiny of a nation in his grasp. Once, when a famous lawyer called at the White House and referred courteously to his eminent position at the bar, he replied, "Oh, I am only a mast-fed lawyer," referring to his limited education. "Mast" is a kind of food composed of acorns, grass, and similar natural substances which was commonly given to cattle and hogs in Indiana and other frontier States when he was a boy.

Conscious of his deficiencies, he never ceased to be a student. Until the very day of his death he was eager to acquire knowledge, and no new subject was ever presented to him without exciting his inquisitiveness and determination to learn all there was to know about it. Of this characteristic he once remarked to a friend,—

"In the course of my law reading I constantly came upon the word demonstrate—I thought at first that I understood its meaning, but soon became satisfied that I did not. I consulted Webster's Dictionary. That told of certain proof, 'proof beyond the probability of doubt;' but I could form no sort of idea what sort of proof that was.

"I consulted all the dictionaries and books of reference I could find, but with no better results. You might as well have defined blue to a blind man. At last I said, 'Lincoln, you can never make a lawyer if you do not understand what demonstrate means;' and I left my situation in Springfield, went home to my father's house, and stayed there until I could give any proposition in the six books of Euclid at sight. I then found out what demonstrate meant, and went back to my law studies."

He met every new question with the same disposition, and nobody ever knew better how to dig for the root of a subject than he. When his children began to go to school, he used to study with them, and frequently referred to the many interesting points of information and the valuable knowledge he acquired in that way. The lawyers who were associated with him upon the circuit relate how often he was accustomed to pull a book from his pocket whenever he had an idle moment, and it was quite as frequently a treatise on astronomy or engineering or a medical lecture as a collection of poems or speeches.

But, with all his modesty and diffidence, he never hesitated to meet with confidence the most formidable opponent at the bar or on the stump, and frequently, when reading accounts of litigation in which famous lawyers were engaged, he would express a wish that he might some time "tackle" them in a court-room. He once said that in all his practice at the bar he had never been surprised by the strength of the testimony or the arguments of his adversary, and usually found them weaker than he feared. This was due to a habit he acquired early in his practice of studying the opposite side of every disputed question in every law case and every political issue quite as carefully as his own side. When he had an important case on hand he was accustomed to withdraw himself into a room where he would not be disturbed, or, what he liked better, to get out into the fields or the woods around Springfield where there was nothing to distract his thoughts, in order to "argue it out in my own mind," as he put it; and when he returned to his house or his office he would usually have a clear conception of his case and have formed his plan of action.

He argued great causes in which principles were involved with all the zeal and earnestness that a righteous soul could feel. Trifling causes he dismissed with the ridicule in which he was unsurpassed, and his associates relate many incidents when a verdict was rendered in a gale of laughter because of the droll tactics used by Lincoln. He never depended upon technicalities or the tricks of the profession. He never attempted to throw obstacles in the way of justice, or to gain an unfair advantage of his adversaries, but was capable of executing legal manœuvres with as much skill as any of his rivals. He adapted himself to circumstances with remarkable ease, and his thorough knowledge of human nature enabled him to excite the interest and sympathy of a jury by getting very close to their hearts. He argued much from analogy; he used old-fashioned words and homely phrases which were familiar to the jurymen he desired to impress, and illustrated his points by stories, maxims, and figures often droll and sometimes vulgar, because he knew that he could make it plainer to them in that way and that they would better understand the force and bearing of his arguments. He relied more upon this method of convincing a jury than upon exhibitions of learning or flights of eloquence, and his acquaintance with human nature was even more intimate than his knowledge of the law.

Few of his speeches at the bar have been preserved, but his contemporaries have left us many interesting reminiscences of his originality and power. His ungainly form and awkward gesticulations enhanced the force of his arguments and attracted the attention and sympathy of a country jury more than the most graceful manners and elegant rhetoric could have done. It was always his rule, in presenting a case, to cut out all of the "dead wood" and get down to "hard pan," as he called it, as soon as possible. In making such concessions he would establish a position of fairness and honesty, and often disarmed his opponent by leaving the impression that he had accidentally "given away his case." Then he would rely upon his remarkable habit of order and command of logic to bring his evidence forward in a clear and strong light, keeping unnecessary details away from the attention of the jury and pressing only the essential points with which he expected to convince them. Sometimes, when his opponent seemed to have captured a verdict, he would abandon his serious argument and begin to tell stories one after another with more or less application, until by such diversion he had effaced from the minds of the jury every impression that the other side had made.

Justice Lawrence Weldon, of the United States Court of Claims, in his reminiscences says, "One of the most interesting incidents in my early acquaintance with Mr. Lincoln was a lawsuit in which Mr. Lincoln was counsel for the plaintiff and I was counsel for the defendant. Even then, in a trial that was the sensation of an obscure village on the prairies, Mr. Lincoln showed that supreme sense of justice to God and his fellow-men.

"It was a family quarrel between two brothers-in-law, Jack Dungee and Joe Spencer. Dungee was a Portuguese, extremely dark-complexioned, but not a bad-looking fellow; and after a time he married Spencer's sister, with the approval of Spencer's family. I don't remember the origin of the quarrel, but it became bitter; and the last straw was laid on when Spencer called Dungee a 'nigger' and followed it up, they say, by adding 'a nigger married to a white woman.' The statute of Illinois made it a crime for a negro to marry a white woman, and, because of that, the words were slanderous. Dungee, through Mr. Lincoln, brought the suit for slander. Judge David Davis was on the bench, and the suit was brought in the De Witt Circuit Court. When the case came up, Mr. Moore and myself appeared for the defence and demurred to the declaration, which, to the annoyance of Mr. Lincoln, the court sustained. Whatever interest Mr. Lincoln took in the case before that time, his professional pride was aroused by the fact that the court had decided that his papers were deficient. Looking across the trial table at Moore and myself and shaking his long, bony finger, he said, 'Now, by jing, I will beat you boys!'

"At the next term of the court Mr. Lincoln appeared with his papers amended, and fully determined to make good his promise to 'beat the boys!' and we thought his chances pretty good to do it, too. We knew our man was a fool not to have settled it, but still we were bound to defend and clear him if we could.

"In the argument of the case on the testimony Mr. Lincoln made a most powerful and remarkable speech, abounding in wit, logic, and eloquence of the highest order. His thoughts were clothed in the simplest garb of expression and in words understood by every juror in the box. After the instructions were given by the court the jury retired, and in a few moments returned with a judgment for the plaintiff, in a sum which was a large amount for those days.

"Mr. Lincoln's advice to his client was that Dungee agree to remit the whole judgment, by Spencer paying the costs of the suit and Mr. Lincoln's fee. Mr. Lincoln then proposed to leave the amount of his fee to Moore and myself. We protested against this, and insisted that Mr. Lincoln should fix the amount of his own fee. After a few moments' thought he said, 'Well, gentlemen, don't you think I have honestly earned twenty-five dollars?' We were astonished, and had he said one hundred dollars it would have been what we expected. The judgment was a large one for those days; he had attended the case at two terms of court, had been engaged for two days in a hotly contested suit, and his client's adversary was going to pay the bill. The simplicity of Mr. Lincoln's character in money matters is well illustrated by the fact that for all this he charged twenty-five dollars."

Justice David Davis, of the Supreme Court of the United States, said, "In all the elements that constitute the great lawyer he had few equals. He was great both at nisi prius and before an appellate tribunal. He seized the strong points of a cause and presented them with clearness and great compactness. His mind was logical and direct, and he did not indulge in extraneous discussion. Generalities and platitudes had no charms for him. An unfailing vein of humor never deserted him; and he was able to claim the attention of court and jury, when the cause was the most uninteresting, by the appropriateness of his anecdotes. His power of comparison was large, and he rarely failed in a legal discussion to use that mode of reasoning. The framework of his mental and moral being was honesty, and a wrong cause was poorly defended by him. He hated wrong and oppression everywhere, and many a man whose fraudulent conduct was undergoing review in a court of justice has writhed under his terrific indignation and rebukes. The people where he practised law were not rich, and his charges were always small. When he was elected President, I question whether there was a lawyer in the circuit, who had been at the bar so long a time, whose means were not larger. It did not seem to be one of the purposes of his life to accumulate a fortune. In fact, outside of his profession, he had no knowledge of the way to make money, and he never even attempted it."

Lincoln was associated at the Springfield bar with many famous men, and there was a keen rivalry among them. Stephen A. Douglas, David Davis, James Shields, Edward D. Baker, John M. Palmer, Lyman Trumbull, Oliver H. Browning, Shelby M. Cullom, and others afterwards sat in the United States Senate and some of them held positions in the Cabinets of Presidents. Others were afterwards Governors of States and members of the House of Representatives; others led armies during the war with Mexico and the war between the States. One of the strongest groups of men that ever gathered at the capital of a State was to be found in Springfield in those days, and Lincoln was their equal in ability and learning and the superior of many of them in the qualities that make a statesman. They recognized him as their superior on many occasions, and whether or not he was the ablest lawyer on the circuit, there was never any doubt that he was the most popular. He was always a great favorite with the younger members of the bar because of his sympathy and good-nature. He never used the arts of a demagogue; he was never a toady; he was always ready to do an act of kindness; he was generous with his mind and with his purse; although he never asked for help, was always ready to give it; and while he received everybody's confidence, he rarely gave his own in return. Whatever his cares and anxieties may have been, he never inflicted them upon others; he never wounded by his wit; his humor was never harsh or rude; he endeavored to lighten the labors and the cares of others, and beneath his awkward manner was a gentle refinement and an amiable disposition.

For twenty-five years he practised at the Springfield bar. He was not a great lawyer according to the standard of his profession, but the testimony of his associates is that he was a good one, enjoying the confidence of the judiciary, the bar, and the public to a remarkable degree. He was conspicuous for several honorable traits, and, above all, for that sense of moral responsibility that can always distinguish between duty to a client and duty to society and the truth. On the wrong side of a case he was always weak, and, realizing this, he often persuaded his clients to give up litigation rather than compel him to argue against truth and justice.

Leonard Swett, of Chicago, for years an intimate associate, and himself one of the most famous of American lawyers, says that, "sometimes, after Lincoln entered upon a criminal case, the conviction that his client was guilty would affect him with a sort of panic. On one occasion he turned suddenly to his associate and said, 'Swett, the man is guilty; you defend him, I can't,' and so gave up his share of a large fee.

"At another time, when he was engaged with Judge S. C. Parks in defending a man accused of larceny, he said, 'If you can say anything for the man, do it, I can't; if I attempt it, the jury will see I think he is guilty, and convict him.'

"Once he was prosecuting a civil suit, in the course of which evidence was introduced showing that his client was attempting a fraud. Lincoln rose and went to his hotel in deep disgust. The judge sent for him; he refused to come. 'Tell the judge,' he said, 'my hands are dirty; I came over to wash them.' We are aware that these stories detract something from the character of the lawyer; but this inflexible, inconvenient, and fastidious morality was to be of vast service afterwards to his country and to the world. The fact is that, with all his stories and jests, his frank companionable humor, his gift of easy accessibility and welcome, he was a man of grave and serious temper and of unusual innate dignity and reserve. He had few or no special intimates, and there was a line beyond which no one ever thought of passing."

Mr. Chauncey M. Depew said, "He told me once that, in his judgment, one of the two best things he ever originated was this. He was trying a cause in Illinois where he appeared for a prisoner charged with aggravated assault and battery. The complainant had told a horrible story of the attack, which his appearance fully justified, when the district attorney handed the witness over to Mr. Lincoln for cross-examination. Mr. Lincoln said he had no testimony, and unless he could break down the complainant's story he saw no way out. He had come to the conclusion that the witness was a bumptious man, who rather prided himself upon his smartness in repartee, and so, after looking at him for some minutes, he inquired, 'Well, my friend, what ground did you and my client here fight over?' The fellow answered, 'About six acres.' 'Well,' said Mr. Lincoln,'don't you think this is an almighty small crop of fight to gather from such a big piece of ground?' The jury laughed, the court and district attorney and complainant all joined in, and the case was laughed out of court."

III
A GREAT ORATOR AND HIS SPEECHES

The fame of Abraham Lincoln as an orator was made secure by his debate with Douglas in 1858, his political speech at Cooper Institute in February, 1860, his oration at the dedication of the Soldiers' Cemetery at Gettysburg in 1863, and his second inaugural address in March, 1865. Neither of these four distinct examples of argument and eloquence has ever been surpassed in their separate fields. That was the judgment of his contemporaries, and it is confirmed by the succeeding generation, not only of his own countrymen, but of competent critics throughout the English-speaking world. His style commanded the highest praise from the French Academy. It was commended as a model for the imitation of princes.

His debate with Douglas was a gladiatorial combat between oratorical Titans. It had no precedent and has not been repeated. His speech at Cooper Institute, as an example of political reasoning, made him pre-eminent upon what the Americans call the "stump." His historical analysis, concise statement, faultless logic, and irresistible conclusions made it a model which has been studied and imitated by campaign speakers ever since its delivery. The brief oration at Gettysburg, covering only thirty lines of print, ranks with the noblest utterances of human lips. No orator of ancient or modern times produced purer rhetoric, more beautiful sentiment, or elegant diction.

Ralph Waldo Emerson said, "Many passages in his letters, messages, and speeches ... are destined to wide fame. What pregnant definitions, what unerring common sense, what foresight, and on great occasions what lofty and, more than national, what human tones. His brief speech at Gettysburg will not easily be surpassed by words on any recorded occasion."

The occasion was the dedication of the battle-field as a soldiers' cemetery, November 19, 1863. Edward Everett delivered a masterly oration, and President Lincoln, being present, was introduced for a few remarks. With profound earnestness and solemnity he spoke five minutes to a breathless audience. His remarks were so brief that it is possible and appropriate to include them here. They could not be considered out of place in any volume of literature on any subject. They cannot be printed or read too often:

"Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

"Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting-place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

"But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate—we cannot consecrate—we cannot hallow—this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion; that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain; that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom; and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth."

The next day Mr. Everett, who was considered one of the most accomplished of American orators, sent Lincoln a note in which he said,—

"Permit me to express my great admiration of the thoughts expressed by you with such eloquence, simplicity, and appropriateness at the consecration of the cemetery. I should be glad if I could flatter myself that I came as near to the central idea of the occasion in two hours as you did in two minutes."

It has always been a popular impression that Lincoln's speech was written upon the cars, en route to Gettysburg from Washington on the morning of the ceremonies, but General Fry, of the army, who was detailed from the War Department as his escort on that occasion and was with him every moment, says that he has no recollection of seeing him writing or even reading a manuscript, nor was there any opportunity during the journey for him to do so. Colonel Hay, his private secretary, says that he wrote out a brief speech at the White House before leaving Washington, and, as usual on such occasions, committed it to memory; but the inspiration of the scene led him to make material changes, and the version given here, copied from Nicolay and Hay's Biography, was written out by the President himself after his return. While it may not be exact, it is nearly accurate.

The London Times pronounced Lincoln's second inaugural address to be the most sublime state paper of the century. Equally competent critics have called it a masterpiece of political literature. The following extract will show its style and sentiment:

"Both read the same Bible, and pray to the same God; and each invokes his aid against the other. It may seem strange that any men should dare to ask a just God's assistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other men's faces; but let us judge not, that we be not judged. The prayers of both could not be answered—that of neither has been answered fully. The Almighty has his own purposes. 'Woe unto the world because of offences! for it must needs be that offences come; but woe to that man by whom the offence cometh.' If we shall suppose that American slavery is one of those offences which, in the providence of God, must needs come, but which, having continued through his appointed time, he now wills to remove, and that he gives to both North and South this terrible war, as the woe due to those by whom the offence came, shall we discern therein any departure from those divine attributes which the believers in a living God always ascribe to him? Fondly do we hope—fervently do we pray—that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away. Yet, if God wills that it continue until all the wealth piled by the bondman's two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn with the lash shall be paid by another drawn with the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so still it must be said, 'The judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether.'

"With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in: to bind up the nation's wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow, and his orphan—to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves, and with all nations."

General Sherman described it accurately when he said, "I have seen and heard many of the famous orators of the century, but Lincoln's speeches surpassed them all. They have never been equalled. It was not his scholarship; it was not rhetoric; it was not elocution; it was the unaffected and spontaneous eloquence of the heart. There was nothing of the mountain-torrent in his manner; it was rather the calm flow of the river."

Lincoln's own comments upon his inaugural address, like everything he ever said about himself, are unique. In reply to a complimentary letter from Thurlow Weed, he wrote, "I expect the latter to wear as well as, perhaps better than, anything I have produced; but I believe it is not immediately popular. Men are not flattered by being shown that there has been a difference of purpose between the Almighty and them. To deny it, however, in this case, is to deny that there is a God governing the world. It is a truth which I thought needed to be told, and, as whatever of humiliation there is in it falls most directly on myself, I thought others might afford for me to tell it."

Messrs. Hay and Nicolay, who were nearer to him and knew him better than any other men, say, "Nothing would more have amazed Mr. Lincoln than to hear himself called a man of letters; but this age had produced few greater writers. Emerson ranks him with Æsop; Montalembert commends his style as a model for princes. It is true that in his writing the range of subjects is not great. He was chiefly concerned with the political problems of the time and the moral considerations involved in them. But the range of treatment is remarkably wide, running from the wit, the gay humor, the florid eloquence of his stump speeches to the marvellous sententiousness and brevity of the address at Gettysburg and the sustained and lofty grandeur of his second inaugural; while many of his phrases have already passed into the daily use of mankind."

But he made other speeches, equally admirable, and some of them unsurpassed by the greatest political or platform orators. Wendell Phillips, Henry Ward Beecher, Robert G. Ingersoll, James G. Blaine, Benjamin Harrison, and others who have gained fame for oratory have each given testimony for the simple yet sublime eloquence of the great master. Many critics consider Lincoln's Peoria speech of 1854 the ablest political argument ever delivered, and assert that no master of logic in the world could have answered it. One of its epigrams has been quoted thousands of times. "When the white man governs himself," he said, "that, I acknowledge, is self-government; but when the white man governs himself and another man besides, that I call despotism."

If Lincoln had been born in old England or in New England, if he had been educated at a university, if he had spent his childhood and youth in luxury and under refining influences, he might have been a greater orator, statesman, and politician than he was, but a nature and a mind like his required the discipline and conditions which he passed through to attain their full development. It is an interesting subject of speculation, concerning other self-taught men as well as Lincoln; but, as a rule, the most powerful minds and the most influential characters have been without the training of the schools, and by contact with gentler and refining influences Lincoln might have acquired polish at the cost of his rugged greatness, his quaint habits of thought and odd but effective phrases, the homely illustrations, and the shrewd faculty of appealing to the simple every-day experience of the people to convince them of the force of his facts and the soundness of his reasoning. His logic was always as clear as his candor. He never failed to state the argument of his adversary as fairly and as forcefully as his own. His power of analysis was extraordinary. He used the simplest words in the language, but they strengthened every case he stated, and no fact, or anecdote, or argument ever lost force or effect from his style of presentation. It has frequently been asserted—and his speeches, state papers, and private correspondence are sufficient proof—that he could state a proposition more clearly and forcibly than any man of his time; yet his language was that of "the plain people," as he used to call them. This faculty was doubtless due to his early experience among the illiterate classes on the frontier, and certain errors of grammar and construction which are familiar to all who have lived among that portion of the population frequently occurred in his compositions. At one time during his early days as a speaker he adopted the flamboyant redundancy of style that is still popular in the South and certain parts of the West, and often used many of the familiar tricks of emotional orators; but his own common sense and the advice of Judge Logan, his law partner, soon corrected this fault, and he studied a simpler style which was much more effective. If he had been less gifted in language he would have been quite as clear in statement, quite as persuasive in his presentation of an argument, because he aimed not to excite admiration, but to be understood. His earnestness was not intended to excite the emotions, but to appeal to the reasoning powers of the persons addressed, and his knowledge of human nature taught him how the mind of the average man worked. At the same time he could reach the most accomplished scholar and the most thoughtful philosopher. For example, his letters in explanation of his delay in proclaiming freedom to the slaves, especially that addressed to Mr. Greeley in 1863, are masterpieces of clear and forcible writing.

One reason for Lincoln's power over his audiences was his intense sincerity. He carried his conscience into every discussion, he took no position that he did not believe was right, and he made no statements that he did not believe to be fair and true. Another was the sympathy he excited; when he related a story he laughed all over, and his own enjoyment was so contagious that the effect was greatly increased.

He once said to Mr. Depew, in reference to some criticisms which had been made upon his story-telling, "They say I tell a great many stories; I reckon I do, but I have found in the course of a long experience that common people"—repeating it—"common people, take them as they run, are more easily influenced and informed through the medium of a broad illustration than in any other way, and as to what the hypercritical few may think I don't care."

His pathos was quite as effective as his humor. His natural tenderness, his affectionate disposition, his poetic temperament, his sympathy for the weak and the sorrowful, and his comprehensive love of all that was good inspired him with a power to touch the hearts of the people as no other man in this country has ever been able to do. James H. McVicker, the famous actor, once told the author that the most marvellous exhibition of elocution he ever witnessed was Lincoln's recitation of the Lord's Prayer, and said that Lincoln told him at the time that it was the sublimest composition in the English language.

Lincoln had the advantage of a photographic memory which could retain almost any passage in literature, and he was able to repeat long passages from Shakespeare and other plays and poems which pleased him. It was only necessary for him to read them over once or twice and they remained in his memory forever. He developed this faculty early in life, and it was the greatest enjoyment allowed the humble people among whom he lived to hear him recite passages from the books he had read and declaim selections from "The Kentucky Preceptor," which was a standard text-book in those days. He could repeat with effect all the poems and speeches in other school-readers, and his talent at mimicry furnished amusement for the neighborhood. The traditions of Gentryville tell us that the neighbors seldom gathered for a "raising," or a "quilting," or a "paring," or a "husking-bee" without hearing Abe Lincoln "take off" the itinerant preachers and politicians whose peculiarities had attracted his attention and appealed to his sense of humor. He attended all the trials in the neighborhood, and frequently walked fifteen miles to the town of Boonevile when court was in session there. His faculty was so well known in that part of the State that the lawyers and others who gathered on such occasions would invariably induce him to make a stump speech or imitate some backwoods orator. His essays and rhymes were much admired, and an itinerant Baptist preacher was so impressed with one of his speeches on temperance that he sent it to friends in Ohio, where it was published in a newspaper; the first of his writings to appear in print. Another essay on "National Politics," written when he was nineteen, gave him great local reputation for literary talent. One of the lawyers who practised in that circuit and was considered a very high authority declared that "the world couldn't beat it."

It is also related that he frequently interrupted harvesting, threshing, and other business events which drew the neighbors together by delivering political speeches, burlesquing local orators and preachers, and repeating doggerels of his own composition that referred to local affairs. His humor often exceeded his discretion, and we are told of coarse satires and rhymes which excited the amusement and admiration of a community, but did him no credit. Sometimes these ebullitions of wit involved him in trouble, particularly on two occasions when he wrote some verses about the deformed nose of his employer, of which the owner was very sensitive.

Lincoln never attempted serious oratory until he went to New Salem, where he discovered Shakespeare and Burns, whose writings had a powerful influence upon his literary style and taste. These eminent authorities were introduced to him by a worthless loafer and fisherman named Jack Kelso, who was too lazy to work, but had a love of learning and literature and an unusually good education for his time and surroundings. Mutual tastes brought the two together, and Lincoln would sit evening after evening on the porch of Offutt's store or lie all day Sunday on the ground under the shade of a tree listening to Kelso discourse upon his favorite authors and repeat over and over the poems of Burns and fine passages from Shakespeare which he had committed to memory long before. There is no doubt that Burns, Shakespeare, and Kelso seriously interfered with the grocery business and contributed to the financial disaster which terminated Lincoln's first and only commercial enterprise. It was a long time before he obtained copies of his favorite poets, but no books were prized more highly by any man.

Lincoln's first experience in debate was gained while he was a clerk in Offutt's store and attended the meetings of a debating club, which were held at different places in the neighborhood and sometimes so far away that he was compelled to walk seven or eight miles for the privilege. He used to call it "practising polemics." Occasionally the club met in a vacant store at New Salem, and Lincoln's first serious speech was delivered on one of those occasions.

His first political speech was delivered at Pappsville, where a crowd had been attracted by an auction sale. He was then beginning his first campaign for the Legislature, and although his remarks are not remembered, an incident of the occasion remains one of the most precious heritages of that neighborhood. While he was speaking, one of his friends became involved in a fight on the edge of the audience, and when the orator saw that he was getting the worst of it, Lincoln suspended his remarks, jumped from the dry-goods box which served as his platform, seized the assailant of his friend by the collar and the seat of his trousers, threw him ten or twelve feet, resumed his place, and finished his argument.

In the reminiscences of Joshua Speed, who was perhaps the most intimate friend Lincoln ever knew, is an account of a great mass-meeting at Springfield at which Lincoln made a speech that produced a lasting impression and "used up" George Forquer, a prominent lawyer and politician, so completely that he was practically driven out of the campaign. Forquer had been a Whig, but changed his politics, and was rewarded by the Democrats with an appointment as Register of the United States Land Office. He owned and occupied one of the finest houses in Springfield and attached to its chimney the only lightning-rod in that part of the State. Forquer had made a long address at the meeting and Lincoln had been assigned to the duty of answering him. Forquer alluded to this arrangement in a contemptuous manner, and spoke slightingly of Lincoln's youth and inexperience. When Lincoln came to reply he admitted his youth and inexperience, which, he added, were faults that would be corrected by time, and then said,—

"I am not so young in years as I am in the tricks and trade of the politician; but whether I live long or die young, I would rather die now than change my politics for an office worth three thousand dollars a year, and have to erect a lightning-rod over my house to protect my conscience from an offended God."

The people of Springfield appreciated this hit so keenly and quoted it so freely that Forquer was compelled to retire from the canvass to escape ridicule.

From this time on Lincoln was always on the stump whenever there was a political contest in Central Illinois, and was recognized as one of the ablest, as he was one of the most popular and effective, campaigners. His speeches began to show maturer intellect, a more careful study and expanding power, and his hold upon his friends and his influence in his party and with the public at large were increasing with every political campaign. As early as 1837, when he was a candidate for Speaker of the Lower House of the Legislature, he had acquired considerable reputation. In the fall of that year, with a few other young men of Springfield, he organized a lyceum for mutual improvement, and his ability was recognized when he was the first of its members to be invited to make a public address, which was carefully prepared and delivered in January, 1838. The subject was "The Perpetuation of our Political Institutions," and it created such an impression that it was published in full in the Sangamon Journal, February 3, 1838. Few men of twenty-nine years, with the advantage of a university education and a complete library for reference, could produce so profound and statesmanlike a paper, and his philosophical analysis of the principles of the Declaration of Independence and his conception of the political duty of the citizen were remarkable for their truth and force.

Lincoln had acquired such great fame as a speaker that in 1840 he was named upon the Harrison electoral ticket, with the stipulation that he should canvass the State. He was then only thirty-one years old, but was regarded as the ablest of the Whig stumpers in Illinois. In the Clay campaign of 1844, in the Taylor campaign of 1848, and in the Scott campaign of 1852 he devoted almost his entire time to political work, for which he received no compensation. Ambitious politicians and loyal party men were expected to contribute their services free and pay their own expenses in those days, and while Lincoln's pocket suffered, his fame and popularity spread, and he had the satisfaction of knowing that in all the State no man possessed the confidence of the public so completely as he and none was listened to with more attention or greater respect. In 1856, during the Frémont campaign, he was recognized as the foremost leader on the Republican side, and had a narrow escape from being nominated for Vice-President.

While in Congress he made three set speeches in the Hall of Representatives, all carefully prepared and written out. The first was an elaborate defence of Whig doctrines and an historical discussion of the Mexican War, the next was on the general subject of internal improvement, and the third was a humorous and satirical criticism of General Cass, the Democratic candidate for President. All of these speeches were printed in pamphlet form for home circulation and were not intended to influence the action of the House. His first participation in debate was, however, a great success. Soon after the Presidential campaign of 1848 opened, Representative Iverson, of Georgia, accused the Whigs of "having taken shelter under the military coat-tails of General Taylor," their Presidential candidate. This seemed to touch Lincoln's sense of humor, and he made a brief reply, taking "Military Coat-Tails" as his text. Ben Perley Poore, the famous newspaper correspondent, who was then in his prime, describes the scene as follows:

"He had written the heads of what he intended to say on a few pages of foolscap paper, which he placed on a friend's desk, bordering on an alley-way, which he had obtained permission to speak from. At first he followed his notes; but, as he warmed up, he left his desk and his notes, to stride down the alley towards the Speaker's chair, holding his left hand behind him so that he could now and then shake the tails of his own rusty, black broadcloth dress-coat, while he earnestly gesticulated with his long right arm, shaking the bony index-finger at the Democrats on the other side of the chamber. Occasionally, as he would complete a sentence amid shouts of laughter, he would return up the alley to his desk, consult his notes, take a sip of water, and start off again."

The Baltimore American called it "the crack speech of the day," and said of Lincoln: "He is a very able, acute, uncouth, honest, upright man and a tremendous wag withal.... Mr. Lincoln's manner was so good-natured, and his style so peculiar, that he kept the House in a continuous roar of merriment for the last half-hour of his speech. He would commence a point in his speech far up one of the aisles, and keep on talking, gesticulating, and walking until he would find himself, at the end of a paragraph, down in the centre of the area in front of the clerk's desk. He would then go back and take another head, and work down again. And so on, through his capital speech."