Chapter II: Part 2

"It is a _mystery_ that adds to beauty, and the woman who surrenders that to importunity or surprise, has lost half her vantage ground. The story of Guyges and Candaules' queen, if not paralleled here, is not without its moral. What else meant this wretch, gentlemen of the Jury, but to surprise these charming damsels when only armed with the light shield that the Huntress and the cotton plant throws over earthly beauty? Or, perhaps he meant more--his own guilty heart can only accuse him there.

"Gentlemen of the Jury, the failure of our Legislature to provide a specific punishment for such miscreants, as this--lecherous creatures, who steal upon woman amid the mysteries of the bed-room--is no reason why society should fold its arms and leave woman's hidden beauties to be anatomized by guilty eyes. No, gentlemen of the Jury, outraged decency cries for its victim, and here he tremblingly, guiltily stands.

"Gentlemen of the Jury, where are the spirits of the fathers of the Constitution? Are they not hovering over us in the air of the still summer day? Are they not wailing upon the winds that sweep over our prairies? Are they not heard in the sigh of the mountain pine? Are they not abroad in all lands, whispering to earth's downtrodden millions like a voice of hope? Yes, gentlemen of the Jury! and where was this creature then? Why, creeping under the bed of two girls, hazzarding the chance of overturning--well, it matters not."

--And much more, in a view that needed to be heard to be appreciated.

Lincoln followed, illustrating with anecdotes meet for the place and occasion, of which I recollect only the opening. "Gentlemen of the Jury," said he, "the remarks of my friend Lawborn about ugly men, comes home to my bosom like the sweet oders of a rose to its neighboring great sister, the cabbage. It was a grateful, a just tribute to that neglected class of the community--ugly men, I wish to say something for my client, although it must in candor be admitted, that he had 'gone to pot.' I don't see why we should throw the kettle after him; he may be the victim of circumstances; he looks very bashful now, and it may be the girls scared him; who knows? At least I claim for him the benefit of a doubt.

"Why, gentlemen, many of us have, or might have suffered from a concatenation of circumstances as strong as that under which my client labors. Let me relate a little personal anecdote in illustration. When I was making the secret canvass of this country, with my friend Cartwright, the Pioneer Preacher, we chanced to stop at the house of one of our old Kentucky farmers, whose log-cabin parlor, kitchen and hall were blended in one, and only separated at night by sundry blankets hung up between the beds. As we were candidates for the august Legislature of Illinois, our host treated us with the privacy of a blanket room. During the night I was awakened by some one throwing their leg over me with some force. I thought it was neighbor Cartright, and took hold of it to give it a toss back; but it didn't feel like one of his white oak legs, and while I was feeling it to ascertain the correctness of my half-awake doubts, a stifled scream thoroughly awakened me, and the leg was withdrawn. Why, gentlemen, would you believe me? It was the leg of our host's daughter! Imagine my position if you can! What an _apparent_ breach of hospitality! While I was imagining an excuse for my conduct, the 'old folks' struck a light, and the blanket between our bed and that of the buxom damsel, was discovered to have been pulled down! More damning proof, thought I. I feigned sleep, but kept one corner of my left eye open for observation. The blanket was soon fixed up, and I was greatly relieved to hear the damsel explain to her mother that she herself had invaded our bed while dreaming, caused by some un-digestable vegetables she had eaten for her supper. Our host was serene and affable in the morning, and I had no need to apologize; but, gentlemen, imagine what an escape I had, and have mercy on my client."

Uncle Abe made a side splitting speech all through, and Douglas followed with a "constitutional" argument.

The Jury returned a verdict of "guilty of scaring the girls," and the Judge sentenced the culprit to be whipped in the back yard, by the girls he had scared.

Dr. Wallace, the acting Sheriff, (no, a paymaster in the army,) went out and bought a cow hide, and the fellow was soon tied up to a post, and the girls made per force to give him thirty-nine well laid on.

The whole affair was a rich evening's divertisement, and cost nothing more than a few lost vest buttons and strained button holes.

It is needless to say that the fellow became a _non est_ man from that day thenceforth.

"Thank God for the Sassengers."

Most of the readers of this have perhaps read a good story of Oliver Ditson, the celebrated Boston Music publisher. After he had been in business several years, his New Hampshire friends invited him to open his Thanksgiving in his native town, he accepted the invitation and started with some of his friends. On the way Ditson was the great man of the occasion, and was therefore placed at the head of the table, when it devolved upon him to ask the blessing. Now Oliver practiced more religion than he knew the exact forms for, and he was in a sad dilemma; but he essayed boldly the task. He thanked God for all the 'creature comforts' there were upon the table--for all there ever had been--for all that was expected. But how to quit? He went on, thanking and trying to think at the same time how 'blessings' ended, but to no purpose. Knives rattled, plates moved, and Oliver saw the hungry people were getting impatient, and he came to the end in a real business like style, with--"Yours, respectfully, OLIVER DITSON."

Almost as good an anecdote is told by Uncle Abe of one of his old friends, a Mr. Sawyer, who merchandized either in Macon or Champaign County. Sawyer, was a Yankee, and distinguished for little besides an immoderate liking for "sassingers," as he called that "linked sweetness" which polite people call sausages. When Uncle Abe was stumping the Sangamon District for Congress, it befell that he and Sawyer met at the same country hotel, which was kept by a hardshell Baptist, whose foible was long prayers and blessings at table. They--Lincoln and Sawyer--happened to be going to the same town by the same coaches. So they were up betimes and ready, but breakfast was delayed. They at last got to the table, and the Deacon was just closing his eyes preliminary to the blessing, when the stage horn blew.

"Bless me, Deacon, there's the stage ready," cried the Sawyer; "thank God for the sassengers, and let us fall too."

I hardly need say the Deacon's blessing--and perhaps his breakfast were spoiled. But Sawyer had his "sassengers."

Was'nt Murder After All.

When the present State House of Illinois, was being built--and it's a passable edifice, baring it is too low in the ground, and the _summer house_ up on its top is too low to catch the cool breezes--it chanced that among the workmen engaged upon it was a New Yorker named Johnson. This man had a sovereign contempt for most of the shinplasters then circulating in Illinois; nor was he much amiss in this, for if it was now in existence, it would be exchangable at par with Jeff Davis' shinplasters. But through the instrumentality of Col. Thornton's negotiations in New York with McAlister of Stebbins, (a claim, by the way, that has never been settled but came near _settling_ the State _a la_ Mattoon,) a large amount of the bills of the New York _Metropolitan Bank_ were put into circulation about Springfield. For this currency Johnson conceived so great a partiality that the passion of avarice soon turned it into a mania. He bought all these notes his means permitted, and stored them away about his person with miserly care.

One Sunday Johnson was invited to ride out to the Cut off by a man (Smith for the nonce) and accepted. They did'nt stop at the Cut-off, but went direct to Sangamon River. Here, they were overheard quarrelling.

Smith came home without Johnson, who was soon missed, and as he was known to have gone away with Smith, that individual was soon put in that log building still standing (it did in '62) back of Carrigan's Hotel, and which has since served as a hen house etc. (Why don't Butler take a picture of it, to show the "rising generation" what a small house used to hold all the _known or taken_ rogues of old Sangamon?)

The examination of Smith, did not take place until the river bank had been examined. There were signs of a struggle on the bank, and to the water's edge, which gave force to the evidence of the man who heard them in dispute, and all felt convinced that Johnson had been murdered. Although a careful examination and dredging of the river failed to produce the body, Smith was committed for trial.

Uncle Abe was engaged as counsel for Johnson, but had little hopes of being of any earthly aid to him.

At last the day of trial came, and the prisoner plead "not guilty."

I think it was Melborn who was the prosecuting Attorney; before the prosecution had opened the case Uncle Abe rose and said:

"May it please the Court, I have a motion to make before the prosecution opens; and as it may save the Court some unnecessary labor, I hope it will be entertained. _I move that the indictment be quashed and the prisoner discharged!_"

The astonishment of the crowded Court room was immense, shared alike by Judge, bar and spectators. As soon as the Judge recovered his equanimity he asked:

"Upon what grounds is so extraordinary a motion made?"

"Why the man Johnson, was not murdered at all, and I have the pleasure of introducing _him to the presence of the Court_."

Johnson was led forward. Hundreds recognized him immediately, The excitement was so great that the Judge adjourned the Court.

It seems that the parties had quarreled, Johnson had been pushed into the river, but had got out and wandered off in a state of partial aberation of mind and had been working on a farm. His passion for Metropolitan Bank Notes and his name suggested an idea that he was the missing man, and he was opportunely produced in time to save a man from being hung.

Joe Reed's Mule Hunt.

One of the best natured fellows in the world, when he is not mad, is Joe Reed, of Logan County, Illinois, Joe is a staunch Republican--a real rip-rarer in the cause, and has given Uncle Abe the lift of a mighty broad pair of shoulders more than once, although at first he had a poor opinion of the rail-splitter. Thereby hangs a tale.

In 18--, (the date is forgotten on account of the coldness of the weather that winter,) Joe lost a couple of mules. After they had been gone for a long time, he chanced to hear of them in a settlement somewhere within the present bounds of Macon County. Illinois. At the first opportunity Joe started on a mule hunt, determined to find either the mules or some _trace_ of them. On reaching the neighborhood in question, Joe was satisfied that an old fellow named Bosby Sheel, had his mules; and when he went in person, and saw them, the assurance of his eyes made "assurance double sure." He at once made claim, but the old fellow had heard that possession was nine points of the law--he declined to surrender them; Joe immediately appealed to old Squire P------, who at once summoned the holder of the mules to his Court. The Squire informed Joe that he would have to prove property; but Joe said he would only have to swear to his property. In this dilemma, the Squire adjourned Court till after dinner and remarked to Joe that he had better get a lawyer.

"There is young Abe Lincoln, he don't live far from here, and he'll be at my house after dinner."

As he was the only lawyer immediately thereabouts, Joe thought he had best employ him, in order to "have the law on his side."

Soon after dinner a stranger arrived, and the Justice (who was landlord of the only hotel in the settlement,) whispered to Joe, that that was the lawyer.

"What!" exclaimed Joe, "that lean, lank gawky? Why, I'll bet both of them mules I know more law nor he does, for I'm a 'Squire at home myself--I am."

"But his looks is mighty deceivin', I tell you," said Boniface. "He's gin out to be one of the piertest young fellows short o' Sangamon."

But Joe was decided, and the 'Squire re-convened his Court, he having the meantime laid the case before his young friend, the lawyer, and got his opinion.

Acting his own lawyer, Joe felt it due to his course to give a concise statement of the law. As he stood up, he still continued to read from a green-covered book that had engaged his attention most of the day It was one of Cooper's latest novels. As Joe gave his version of the law, it seemed to 'Squire P------ that he was _reading_ the law.

"Is that really the law?" said he, as Joe finished his version of the law--not the book. "Let me see that book."

Joe mechanically handed it to him.

After pouring over it for some time, he handed it back, with an air of disappointment, remarking:

"Drat me! if I see any sich law in that book."

"Well, it ain't no wonder ye don't--that's the _Red Rover_, a novel and not a law book, and you've been and lost my place too," Joe found his place, and continued: "what I told you is what the law says, and I know it's so."

"Well, as you're a 'Squire, too, I reckon you ought to know. As the mules don't belong to old man Bosby Sheel and you swear they are you'rn, I hold he's bound to give'em up."

Joe rallied the old Squire rather hard about looking over the _Red Rover_ for extra law, but finally "give a treat" and left the Squire and his friend in the best of humors.

Said Uncle Abe when he had the small-pox, "I now can give something to every one who calls."

Has no Influence with the Administration.

Judge Baldwin, an old and highly respectable and sedate gentleman, called a few days since on Gen. Halleck, and presuming upon a familiar acquaintance in California formerly, solicited a pass outside of our lines, to see a brother in Virginia, not thinking that he would be met with a refusal, as both his brother and himself were good Union men.

"We have been deceived too often," said General Halleck, "and I regret I can't grant it."

Judge B. then went to Stanton, and was very briefly disposed of with the same result. Finally he obtained an interview with Uncle Abe, and stated his case.

"Have you applied to Gen. Halleck?" inquired the President.

"And met with a flat refusal," said Judge B.

"Then you must see Stanton," continued Uncle Abe.

"I have, and with the same result," was the reply.

"Well, then," said Uncle Abe, with a smile of good humor, "I can do nothing; for you must know _that I have very little influence with this Administration_."

A Touching Incident.

The following incident, which occurred at the White House, will appeal to every heart. It reveals unmistakably the deep kindness of Uncle Abe's character:

"At a reception recently at the White House, many persons present noticed three little girls poorly dressed, the children of some mechanic or laboring man, who had followed the visitors into the house to gratify their curiosity. They were passed from room to room, and were passing through the reception room with some trepidation, when Uncle Abe, called to them: 'Little girls, are you going to pass me without shaking hands?' Then he bent his tall, awkward form down, and shook each little girl warmly by the hand. Everybody in the apartment was spellbound by the incident, so simple in itself, yet revealing so much of Uncle Abe's character."

A Lincoln Man Ducked.

During the canvass between Uncle Abe, and Peter Cartright, the celebrated Pioneer Preacher, it chanced that Cartright, was returning to his home from the Williamsville and Wiggins Lane settlement. The nearest crossing of the Sangamon was at Carpenter's Mills, where there was the convenience of a ferry instead of a bridge, as is now the case. Upon the hill on the western side of the river, Cartright saw a man elevated upon a barrel in front of a little grocery--and on nearing him, he discovered that he was giving the Democrats in general, and Uncle Peter Cartright in particular, a perfect fusilade of small shots of slang and abuse.

"I tell you, boys, I'm a Whig,--a real Harrison Tippacanoe and Tyler too, Whig," said he. "I'm for putting down all these cuss'd locofocos, and if we can't vote'em down, why I go for lickin'em' down. There's long Abe Lincoln that's runnin' for the Legislature--he's the chap to vote for. He's one of the people--split rails and got his edycation by moonlight. He don't go round the country prayin' and preachin' like that mean Methodist cuss, Peter Cartright, that's runnin' agin him. I'd like to know what we wants of a parson to make laws for us? Just elect him, and fust you know he'll have a bill into the Legislature, to fine us for not goin' to meetin' or for drinkin' a glass of whisky. I'll tell you what, if he ever comes round here, I'll just pass him inter the Sangamon--certain--sure."

Just here Uncle Peter Cartright enquired for "the ferryman.

"I'm the ferry-man, old hoss," sung out the rustic orator, "and ken put ye cross the river in no time." Uncle Peter signified his desire to cross, and the twain started towards the ferry boat. The Preacher stepping into the boat, hitched his horse to the side, while the ferryman shoved out into the stream.

"So you are a Lincoln man?" queried Uncle Peter. "I'm that hoss."

"And so I presume you would douse a Cartright man if you had a chance?"

"I mought do it stranger."

"Certainly you would douse Mr. Cartright?"

"Sure's winkin', old fellow."

"Well Sir, I am Peter Cartright at your service," and before the ferryman recovered from his surprise Uncle Peter pitched him into the river, took the pole and put himself across the river.

The ferryman did'nt vote for Uncle Peter but he altered his opinion of Methodist preachers in general and Uncle Peter in particular.

A Comparison.

One day as Uncle Abe, and a friend were sitting on the House of Representatives steps, the session closed, and the members filed out in a body. Uncle Abe looked after them with a serious smile. "That reminds me," said he, "of a little incident when I was a boy; my flat boat lay up at Alton on the Mississippi, for a day, and I strolled about the town. I saw a large stone building, with massive stone walls, not so handsome though, as this, and while I was looking at it, the iron gateway opened, and a great body of men came out. 'What do you call that?' I asked a bystander. 'That,' said he, 'is the State Prison, and those are all thieves going home. Their time is up.'"

"There's Enough for All."

Uncle Abe was terribly bored by the office seekers, even before the Presidential house-warming had scarcely began. The Illinois politicians were the most ravenous pap-Suckers of all.

"Just wait a little," said Uncle Abe, "I can assure you, as L------d S------t did the swine, 'there's enough for all.'"

"Let us have the story, Uncle Abe," said one of the crowd, who evidently expected something rich.

"Why, you see," began Uncle Abe, "I attended court many years ago at Mt. Pulaski, the first county seat of Logan County, and there was the jolliest set of rollicking young Lawyers there that you ever saw together. There was Bill F------n, Bill H------n, L------d S------t, and a lot more, and they mixed law and Latin, water and whisky, with equal success. It so fell out that the whisky seemed to be possessed of the very spirit of Jonah. At any rate, S------t went out to the hog-pen, and, leaning over, began to 'throw up Jonah.' The hogs evidently thought it feed time, for they rushed forward and began to squabble over the voided matter.

"'Don't fight (hic),' said S------t: 'there's enough (hic) for all.'"

--The politicians couldn't see anything to laugh at, although the "snubbin" was plain enough.

Making a President.

Uncle Abe, in elucidating his estimate of Presidential honors, tells a clever story, as he always does, when he sets about it. It seems that Windy Billy, who is a politician of no ordinary pretensions, was a candidate for the Consulship of Bayonne, and he urged his appointment with the eloquence of a Clay or a Seward. He boasted vociferously of his activity in promoting the success of the Republican ticket, and averred with his impassioned earnestness that he and he alone had made Uncle Abe President.

"Ah!" exclaimed Uncle Abe, "and it was you who made me President, was it?" a twinkle in his eye all the time.

"Yes," said Billy, rubbing his hands and throwing out his chest, as a baggage-master would a small valise, "yes, I think I may say I am the man who made you President."

"Well, Billy, my boy, if that's the case, it's a h--ll of a muss you got me into, that's all."

Uncle Abe Boss of the Cabinet.

A prominent Senator was remonstrating with Uncle Abe a few days ago about keeping Mr. Chase in his Cabinet, when it was as well known that Mr. C. is opposed, tooth and nail, to Uncle Abe's re-election.

"Now, see here," said Uncle Abe, "when I was elected I resolved to hire my four Presidential rivals, pay them their wages and be their 'boss.' These were Seward, Chase, Cameron and Bates; but I got rid of Cameron after he had played himself out. As to discharging Chase or Seward, don't talk of it. I pay them their wages and am their boss, and would'nt let either of them out on the loose for the fee simple of the Almaden patent."

Uncle Peter Cartright's Wonder.

Some of the farmers in and about Saggamon county, Illinois, have been and still are so intent on cattle-raising, that the business is a sort of cattle-mania. Uncle Peter was one Sunday preaching near a good old deacon of this sort, whose piety was somewhat like that of a card-playing lady mentioned by Addison, (Spectator No. 7,) who had a set hour for her devotions, and if she happened to be at a game, would get a friend to "hold her hand" while she said her prayers. Our worthy deacon was rather vain of his "gift" praying and saying "blessings" at table. As a matter of courtesy, he might occasionally ask a visiting preacher to pray or ask a blessing; but he never failed to exhibit his "gift" to his visitors. He had a singsong way of "getting it off," at the same time beating time with his hands on either side of his plate. On the occasion alluded to, he began--"Oh Lord! (thump) bless the creature comforts (thump) provided for our (thump) sustenance (thump.) Bless it (thump) to our needs (thump) and necessities, (thump). Lead us aright, (thump) but if we stray (thump) put us back (thump) into the right path, (thump). Bless the stranger (thump) that comes beneath our roof, (thump) and keep his feet (thump) in pleasant paths, (thump). What we ask (thump) amiss, (thump) withhold; (thump) but grant us what our (thump) short-sightedness omits, (thump) and thine be the glory (thump) now and for ever, (thump) a------."

And here the old deacon stopped suddenly, opened his eyes, and looking across the table, asked:

"Son John, did Mr. Jones settle yet for that Durham cow?"

"Yes, father--it's all right."

"Amen," concluded the deacon.

"Cattle! cattle!" exclaimed Uncle Peter in ill-concealed disgust.

"Why, you can't say your prayers without having cattle running through your head; I wonder the Lord don't turn such Christians into cattle!"

Uncle Abe a Shaksperian.

When Uncle Abe was making a plea in one of the county Circuit Courts, not far from Springfield, one of the lawyers becoming sensible that he was being out-generaled, remarked to Uncle Abe, as he sat down--

"I smell a mice."

"Why don't you quote Shakspeare correctly?" said Uncle Abe.

"Why," said the other, "I was not aware that I Was quoting Shakspeare at all."

"Certainly you were, and had you done it properly, it would have been more expressive and less vulgar. The correct expression is, 'I smell a device.'"

The Running Sickness.

In the Black Hawk war, Uncle Abe belonged to a militia company in the service. On a scout, the company encountered the Indians, and in a brisk skirmish drove them some miles, when, night coming on, our forces encamped. Great was the consternation on discovering that Lincoln was missing. His absence or rather his stories, from the bivouac, was a misfortune. Suddenly, however, he came into camp. "Maj. Abe, is that you? Thought you were killed. Where've you been?" were the startling speculations. "Yes," said Uncle Abe, "this is me--ain't killed either."

"But where have you been all the time?"

"Oh, just over there."

"But what were you over there for? Didn't run away, did you?"

"No," said he deliberately, "I don't think I run away; but, after all, I reckon if anybody had seen me going, and had been told I was going for a doctor, he would have thought somebody was almighty sick."

How to Get Rid of Rats.

So thick had the rats become in Logan County, a few years ago, that the means of getting rid of the nuisance was freely discussed. The newly organized Agricultural Society, finally concluded to offer three premiums for the then largest numbers. The man who took the largest prize, exhibited over 1,700 scalps all caught in the space of three weeks. At the time these prizes were pending, Uncle Abe attended Court there, and Col. L------n, (a considerable gourmand,) by the way, was discussing the best way to get rid of the rats, and finally asked Uncle Abe's opinion.

"Why," said Uncle Abe, "rats are a 'cunning cattle,' and soon find out how things are going. I introduce them to your table as a delicacy, and when they find out you are making 'game' of them they will soon give you a wide berth."

The Colonel winced under a faint impression; but silently ratified Uncle Abe's conclusions. "Yes," chimed in M------, "we might go so far as to use their pelts to ornament our winter clothing."

A Palpable Application

On a late occasion, when the White House was open to the public, a farmer from one of the border counties of Virginia told Uncle Abe that the Union soldiers, in passing his farm, had helped themselves not only to hay, but his horses, and he hoped the President would urge the proper officer to consider his claim immediately. "Why, my dear sir," replied Uncle Abe, blandly, "I couldn't think of such a thing. If I considered individual cases, I should find work for twenty Presidents!" Bowie urged his needs persistently; Uncle Abe declined good-naturedly. "But," said the persevering sufferer, "couldn't you just give me a line to Colonel ------- about it? just one line?" "Ha, ha, ha!" responded amiable Uncle Abe, shaking himself fervently, and crossing his legs the other way, "that reminds me of old Jack Chase out in Illinois." At this the crowd huddled forward to listen. "You have seen Jack--I knew him like a brother--used to be a lumberman on the Illinois, and he was steady and sober, and the best raftsman on the river. It was quite a trick twenty-five years ago to take the logs over the rapids, but he was skillful, with a raft, and always kept her straight in the channel. Finally a steamboat was put on, and Jack--he's dead now, poor fellow!--was made captain of her. He used to take the wheel going through the rapids. One day, when the boat was plunging and wallowing along the boiling current, and Jack's utmost vigilance was exercised to keep her in the narrow channel, a boy pulled his coat tail, and hailed him with, 'Sir, Mister Captain! I wish you'd just stop your boat a minute--I've lost my apple overboard!'"

Uncle Abe on the Whisky Question.

A committee, just previous to the fall of Vicksburg, solicitous for the _morale_ of our armies, took it upon themselves to visit the President and urge the removal of General Grant. .

"What for?" asked Uncle Abe.

"Why," replied the busy-bodies, "he drinks too much whisky."

"Ah!" rejoined Uncle Abe, "can you inform me gentlemen, where General Grant procures his whisky?"

The committee confessed they could not.

"Because," added Uncle Abe, with a merry twinkle in his eye, "If I can find out, I'll send a barrel of it to every General in the field!"

The delegation retired in reasonable good order.

Edwards vs. Lincoln.

One day soon after Uncle Abe began the canvass with Judge Douglas for the United States Senate, Lincoln, an Editor, accosted Nivian W. Edwards, (Uncle Abe's brother-in-law,) as Mr. Lincoln himself.

"Well," said Edwards, "I think I must be growing taller and uglier every day, for this is the sixth time I've been taken for Abe within a week."

Notwithstanding Edwards was a Democrat and a joker, Uncle Abe made him a commissary in the army.

Metalic Ring.

The new practical postal currency have upon the face, a faint oval ring of bronze, encircling the vignette. Uncle Abe being asked its use, replied that it was a faint attempt on the part of Mr. Chase, to give the new currency a metalic ring.

A Grateful Postmaster.

Said a long legged hoosier, on receiving the appointment of Postmaster, in Sangamon County, "I tell you Uncle Abe, you're a hoss," "yes replied Uncle Abe, a _draft_ horse."

A Serious Joke.

Washington, February 18, 1864

To Wm. Fishback

When I fixed a _plan_ for an election in Arkansas I did it in ignorance that your convention was at the same work. Since I learned the latter fact I have been constantly trying to yield my _plan_ to theirs. I have sent two letters to General Steel, and three or four dispatches to you and others, saying that (General Steel,) must be master, but that it will probably be best for him to keep the convention on its own _plan_. Some single mind must be master, else there will be no agreement on any thing; and General Steel, commanding the military, and being on the ground, is the best man to be that master. Even now citizens are telegraphing me to postpone the election to a later day than either fixed by the Convention or me This discord must be silenced.

A. LINCOLN.

A young Massachusetts soldier, named Merrill, writes a Washington correspondent, had on ounce ball pass through his head during the battle of Fredericksburg. It entered near his right eye and was extracted behind his left ear. Another ball would have entered a vital part of his body had it not been arrested by a Testament, in which it lodged. When this safeguard was shown to Uncle Abe, he sent to the hospital a handsome pocket Bible, in which was written: "Charles V. Merrill, Co. A. 19th Massachusetts, from A. Lincoln."

"Major-General Grant,--Understanding that your lodgment at Chattanooga and Knoxville is now secure I wish to tender you, and all under your command, my more than thanks--my profoundest gratitude--for the skill, courage, and perseverence with which you and they, over so great difficulties, have effected that important object. God bless you all!

"A. LINCOLN."

Fix the Date.

Uncle Abe, was conversing with some friends and remarked, "There's a good Time coming," a countryman stepped up to Uncle Abe, and said: "Mister, you could'nt fix to date, could yous?"

Rival of Uncle Abe.

Old Abe has got off many good things since he left Springfield, but the following equals anything which has proceeded from that veteran joker.

"In the Georgia Legislature, Mr. Linton Stephens, brother of the rebel Vice President, introduced a resolution in the House of Representatives declaring that peace be officially offered to the enemy after every Confederate victory."

Uncle Abe's Estimate of the Senate.

Uncle Abe, says that in the Senate, he "owns nine of the Senators and one-half of another."

"Who owns the other half?" asked a gentleman to whom Uncle Abe was speaking. "Henry Wilson of Massachusetts," replied the Chief Magistrate, "Wilson is for me," says the President, "before breakfast; rather against me while his digestion is going on after it; loves me like pie during the hours which he spends visiting the various departments and asking for places and patronage; and bitterly my enemy from seven every evening until he goes to bed, drops asleep and commences snoring. Wilson is carrying water on both shoulders but I guess he'll get a wetting and soil his clothes before he gets through."

"Thought he Must be Good for Something."

An Illinois man who had known the "boy Mayor," John Hay, from boyhood, was expressing to Uncle Abe, after the massacre at Olustee, some regret that he should have supposed him capable of any military position.

"About Hay," said Uncle Abe, "the fact was, I was pretty much like Jim Hawks, out in Illinois, who sold a dog to a hunting neighbor, as a first-rate coon dog. A few days after, the fellow brought him back, saying he 'wasn't worth a cuss for coons.' 'Well,' said Jim, I tried him for everything else, and he wasn't worth a d----n, and so I thought he _must_ be good for coons.'"

Aptly Said.

To a man who was condoling Uncle Abe on the disaster at Olustee, and suggesting how it might have been prevented, he said:

"Your remarks are well intended, doubtless; but they do little less than aggravate a thing which I can't help thinking might have been helped. It reminds me of a story that I read when I was a boy. An old fellow who had clambered rather high into an apple tree, fell and broke his arm. A sympathizing and philosophic neighbor, seeing his mishap, went to his aid. 'Ah,' said he, 'if you had followed my plan you would have escaped this.' 'Indeed, what is your plan?' enquired the groaning man. 'Why, never to let go both hands, till you get one hold somewhere else.'"

The would-be Brigadier saw the point, and left.

"I see you've got to the sticking point at last," as the Democrat remarked to a slippery Republican, whose team had gone into the ground up to the hub.

"They have gone up every Creek and Bayou where it was a little damp."

"Linkums" Sold Cheap.

Daring the Presidential contest of 1860, there was an Italian artist of plaster figures in Springfield, who supplied "leetel Linkums," as he called his figures, faster than ever Uncle Abe did. He succeeded in putting one of these Republican penates into every Republican house in town, but they finally became a "drug" in the market. However, he kept his "asking price" up; but his selling price was as various as his buyers, and hard to deal with.

One day, with a load of these upon his head, he entered a jeweller's shop, and accosted the man behind the counter with-- *

"You buys'em leetel Linkums?"

"No--don't want'em."

"Sells'em cheap," persisted the Italian.

"Well, how do you sell to-day?"

"Fifty cent piece."

"I'll give you a dollar for the lot," said A------, expecting to pose the Italian.

"You takes'em," greedily exclaimed the artist, and he left Mr. L. A. A------n with a lot of plaster on hand which he had hard work to give away.

"There's an odor of nationality about those bills, said Secretary Chase, showing a lot of the firstlings of his greenbacks to Uncle Abe.

"A very good figure of speech," replied Uncle Abe, "but you must not get too many under the public nostril, or your figure of speech will be an odor of fact."

April 1, 1862, greenbacks, 100. April 1, 1864, greenbacks, 55.

Uncle Abe as a Pilot.

The captain of one of the Mississippi river steamers one morning, while his boat was lying at her moorings at New Orleans, waiting for the tardy pilot, who, it appears, was a rather uncertain sort of fellow, saw a tall, gaunt Sucker make his appearance before the captain's office, and sing out--

"Hello, cap'n! you don't want a pilot nor nothin' about this 'ere craft, do ye?"

"How do you know I don't?" responded the captain.

"Oh, you don't understand; I axed you s'posin' you did?"

"Then, supposing I do, what of it?"

"Well," said Uncle Abe, for it was he, "I reckon I know suthin' about that ere sort o' business, provided you wanted a feller of jest about my size."

The captain gave him a scrutinising glance, and with an expression of countenance which seemed to say, "I should pity the steamer that you piloted," asked--

"Are you acquainted with the river, and do you know where the snags are?"

"Well, ye-as," responded Uncle Abe rather hesitatingly, "I'm pretty well acquainted with the river, but the snags, I don't know exactly so much about them."

"Don't know about the snags?" exclaimed the captain, contemptuously, "don't know about the snags! You'd make a pretty pilot!"

At this Uncle Abe's countenance assumed anything but an angelic expression, and with a darkened brow and a fiercely flashing eye, he drew himself up to his full height, and indignantly roared back in a voice of thunder:

"What do I want to know where the snags are for, old sea-hoss? I know where they ain't, and there's where I do my sailing!"

It is sufficient to know that Uncle Abe was promptly engaged, and that the captain takes pleasure in saying that he proved himself one of the best pilots on the river.

(Wonder if Uncle Abe has forgotten how to sail in clear water? A. A.)

Uncle Abe's Valentine.

Uncle Abe on the 14th of last February, received a valentine in the shape of a picture of the American eagle, with a financial allusion. The bird of freedom appeared to be engaged in picking up gold coin, while at the end of the bird most remote from his head there was a pile of "green-backs," into which this coin seemed to have been mysteriously transmuted.

Uncle Abe, who takes such things philosophically, and always acknowledges a palpable hit with grace and good natured cheerfulness, went to his Secretary of the Treasury, to exhibit his bird, in order that the latter might enjoy the joke with him. Mr. Chase, however, was not disposed to take the matter in the same spirit Uncle Abe did; but appeared to be much out of humor at this hieroglyphical attack upon his department of the government. In tones in which there was evidently a slight admixture of irritability, he remarked to Uncle Abe that he would like to know who had made this unwarrantable attack upon his financial management of the affairs of the nation--that he feared that some of his subordinates had got up this libel upon him, and that he would give a hundred dollars to know who had done it. Uncle Abe? whose question-asking proclivities are well known, said that the offer seemed liberal; "but, Mr. Chase," said he, "before I shall make up my mind on this subject, will you allow me to ask you one question?" "Certainly," replied the Secretary. "I merely wanted to understand," said Uncle Abe, "at which end of the bird you propose to pay?"

"'Et tu Brute?'" responded the head of the Treasury department. "If I am thus to be made the subject of ridicule, I must renew my application to be relieved from my duties as Secretary."

"O, never mind! never mind! Mr. Secretary," said Uncle Abe, "we can soon remedy all these difficulties. All we have to do, after we have suppressed this rebellion, is to turn the bird end for end, and let the gold and 'greenbacks' remain just as they are and all will come out right." The Secretary, restored to good humor, agreed not to resign unless Seward did.

"That reminds me of a little story."

"My Mary Ann."

Many months ago the post commander at Cairo was a certain West Point colonel of a Northwestern regiment, noted for his soldierly qualities and rigid discipline. One day he passed by the barracks and heard a group of soldiers singing the well-known street piece, "My Mary Ann." An angry shade crossed his brow, and he forthwith ordered the men to be placed in the guard-house, where they remained all night The next morning he visited them, when one ventured to ask the cause of their confinement.

"Cause enough," said the rigid colonel; "you were singing a song in derision of Mrs. Colonel B------."

The men replied by roars of laughter, and it was some time before the choler of the Colonel could be sufficiently subdued to understand that the song was an old one, and sung by half the school-boys in the land, or the risibles of the men be calmed down to learn that the colonel's wife rejoiced in the name of "Mary Ann."

Uncle Abe made the Colonel a Brigadier the moment he heard this story.

Uncle Abe's Honor.

At one time Uncle Abe aspired to a position on the bench, and Mrs. Lincoln, so as to be prepared for the event, practiced the habit of calling her husband "his Honor," or "your Honor," as the case might be. Uncle Abe never, however, succeeded to the dignity of the ermine; but attending Circuit at Chicago, and stopping at the -------- Hotel, Mrs. L. accompanied her husband, as was her custom. Uncle Abe had donned a bran new pair of boots, which were anything but comfortable, and almost as uncertain as a pair of skates to a learner on the keenest of ice. Mrs. Lincoln was enjoying herself in the parlor in a chit-chat with a number of other ladies, and putting on as many airs as her provincial position in Springfield would admit, when a strange, rumbling sound disturbed the pleasant company, who rushed out to learn what was the matter. Lo and behold! there was Uncle Abe in the undignified predicament of tumbling down stairs and bumping the end of his spine upon every step. The new boots, or the swig of forty-rod which he had taken in his bed-room, had proved traitor to him. Mrs. Lincoln was nearly non-plussed, but exclaimed in a consoling voice, "Is your Honor hurt?"

"No," said Uncle Abe, sitting gracefully on the carpet, with legs spread out amidst the bevy of tittering damsels, and rubbing the seat of his trowsers, "No, my honor is not hurt but my--my--my head is!"

"Smoke That."

During the session of the Legislature of Illinois, in 1836-7, the Sangamon County delegation of nine members, became known as the "Long Nine," from the fact of their remarkable average height. In this delegation were Uncle Abe, Gen. Baker, (killed at Bull's Bluff,) N. W. Edwards, (brother-in-law of Uncle Abe, and now Captain commissary,) and some others of note in their day. A law had passed the previous session to remove the capital from Vandalia to Springfield, to be carried out as soon as a new capitol could be built. In the meantime, Gen. W. L. D. Ewing, an influential Egyptian member, made periodical efforts to repeal the law and keep the capital at Vandalia. During the session of 1837, we had a regular tilt with the "long nine," during which, whenever Uncle Abe or Gen. Baker made a point, Ewing would be saluted with the cry "smoke that!" in allusion to "long nines," a popular kind of cigars used at that day. This probably gave rise to saying, "put that in your pipe and smoke it."

A Sufficient Reason.

Some one recently asked Uncle Abe why he didn't promote merit? "Because merit never helped promote me," said our Uncle Abe.

The Boy and the Bear.

A committee of the enemies of Mr. Chase called on the President just after the Pomroy circular was sent forth and advised him to purify his cabinet and let Chase go. Old Abe replied that "it is not so easy a thing to let Chase go. I am situated very much as the boy was who held the bear by the hind legs. I will tell you how it was. There was a very vicious bear which, after being some time chased by a couple of boys, turned upon his pursuers. The boldest of the two ran up and caught the bear by the hind legs, while the other climbed up into a little tree, and complacently witnessed the conflict going on beneath, between the bear and his companion. The tussel was a sharp one, and the boy, after becoming quite exhausted, cried out in alarm, 'Bill, for God's sake come down and help me let this darned bear go!' Now, gentlemen," said Mr. Lincoln, "you see what a fix I am in--it may be dangerous to hold on to Chase, but it will require more assistance than I see at present, to help me let him go."

Too Deep.

During the Black Hawk war, when the valiant Illinoisians were in hasty retreat from what they thought certain scalping, and the roads exclusively bad, in fact, unfathomable mud.--In this predicament, the corps in which Uncle Abe was, became somewhat scattered, when the officer commanding, called out to the men to form _two deep_. "Blast me!" shouted Abe from a slough, in which he was nearly buried, "I am too deep already; I am up to the neck."

Uncle Abe's First Speech.

When Uncle Abe first made his appearance in the Illinois House of Representatives, and was desirous of delivering his sentiments on a certain measure, he rose and began:--"Mr. Speaker, _I conceive_----" but could go no further. Thrice he repeated unsuccessfully the same attempt; when Douglas, who had more confidence, and had been a year longer in the House, completely dumbfounded Abe by saying: "Mr. Speaker, The honorable gentleman has _conceived three times, and brought forth nothing._"

Cute.

One night Uncle Abe came wet and cold to a cross road tavern in Indiana, and found the fire more thoroughly blockaded with Hoosiers than mother Welles has been able to blockade the Southern Confederacy. Abe ordered the landlord to carry his horse a peck of catfish. "He can't eat catfish," said Boniface. "Try him," said Abe, "there's nothing like trying." The crowd all rushed after the landlord to see Abe's horse eat the peck of catfish. "He won't eat them, as I told you," said the landlord, on returning. "Then," coolly responded Uncle Abe, who had squatted on the best seat, "bring them to me and I'll eat them myself."

Abe's Spelling.

Being asked by a client in Springfield why he spelled so badly in his law papers, Uncle Abe replied, "Because, the Suckers are so cussed mean they won't pay for good spelling."

A Soldier's Theory of the War.

The soldiers at Helena, in Arkansas, used to amuse the inhabitants of that place, on their first arrival, by telling them yarns, of which the following is a sample:

"Some time ago Jeff. Davis got tired of the war and invited President Lincoln to meet him on neutral ground to discuss terms of peace. They met accordingly, and after a talk, concluded to settle the war by dividing the territory and stopping the fighting. The North took the Northern States, and the South the Gulf and seaboard Southern States. Lincoln took Texas and Missouri, and Davis Kentucky and Tennessee; so that all were parcelled off excepting Arkansas. Lincoln did'nt want it--Jeff, would'nt have it. Neither would consent to take it, and on that they split; and the war has been going on ever since."

Nigger Mathematics.

Uncle Abe was lately visited by one of the "On to Richmond" sword of Gideon gentry, who confidently expressed the hope, so common among the Abolition noodles, that Lee's army would be "bagged." Uncle Abe grinned to the utmost of his classic mouth, and remarked that he was afraid there would be too much "nigger mathematics" in it. The visitor smiled at the allusion, as he felt bound in politeness to do supposing there must be something in it, though he could not see the point. "But I suppose you don't know what 'nigger mathematics' is," continued Uncle Abe. "Lay down your hat a minute, and I'll tell you." He, himself, resumed the sitting posture leaned back in his chair, elevated his heels on the table, and went on with his story. "There was a darkey in my neighborhood, called Pompey, who, from a certain quickness in figuring up the prices of chickens and vegetables, got the reputation of being a mathematical genius. Johnson, a darkey preacher, heard of Pompey, and called to see him. 'Here ye're a great mat'm'tishum, Pompey.' 'Yes sar, you jas try.' 'Well Pompey, Ize compound a problem in mat'matics.' 'All right, sar.' 'Now, Pompey, spose dere am tree pigeons sittin' on a rail fence, and you fire a gun at'em and shoot one, how many's left?' 'Two, ob cooors,' replies Pompey after a little wool scratching. 'Ya-ya-ya,' laughs Mr. Johnson; 'I knowed you was a fool, Pompey; dere's _none_ left--one's dead, and d'udder two's flown away.' "That's what makes me say," continued Uncle Abe, "that I am afraid there was too much nigger mathematics in the Pennsylvania campaign." And the result showed that in this instance, at least, the anecdote suited the fact. Lee's army was then three pigeons. One of them was taken down at Gettysburg, but the other two flew off over the Potomac.

Long and Short of it.

"Here I am, and here is Mrs. Lincoln, and that's the long and short of it."--_Speech of Mr. Lincoln from the balcony of the White House at Washington_.

A Handy Faculty.

Whilst Uncle Abe was passing, in his flat-boat, a small town on the Wabash, an old chum accosted him from shore thus:--

"Uncle Abe, are you asleep?"

"Why?"

"Because, I want to borrow some whiskey."

"Then" said Abe, "_I am asleep._"

And he rolled over drowsily on the flat-boat, and it passed on.

Uncle Abe on Time.

A Methodist dominie was lecturing Abe on his love of gambling. "Ah Abraham, it is a grievous sin--in the first place, consider the loss of time."

"Yes," replied Uncle Abe, "I have often begrudged the loss of time--in _shuffling and dealing_."

A Story that had no Reminder.

During a conversation which took place between Uncle Abe and a distinguished western senator, the recent legislative nominations for the next presidency were incidentally referred to. "Yes," said Uncle Abe, nursing his leg with evident gratification--"yes senator, the current seems to be setting all one way!"

"It does, really, seem to be setting all one way," was the answer of the senator; "but, Mr. Lincoln, as you have told me several good stories since I have been here, permit me if you please, to tell _you_ one. It has always been observed that the Atlantic Ocean, at the Straits of Gibraltar, constantly pours into the Mediterranean with tremendous volume. The Bosphorus empties into it, at its other end, and rivers are seen contributing to its waters all along its coast. It was for many years the constant puzzle of geographers, why the Mediterranean, under all these accessions, never got full, and overran its banks. After a while, however, a curious fellow took the notion of dropping a plummet in the center of the Straits, when, lo! he discovered that, though the tremendous body of water on the surface was rushing inward from the ocean, a still more powerful body was passing outward, in a counter current, some twenty feet below!"

"Oh, ah!" said Uncle Abe, seriously, evidently nonplussed, for the first time in his life; "that _does not_ remind me of any story I ever heard before!"

Has it "Gin Out?"