In The Boyhood of Lincoln Part 27

"Quite right!"

"The best way to support temperance is to live temperately and say nothin' about it. There, now! If I had held my peace, the stones would have cried out. Olive Eastman has spoken, and Josiah says that I am right, and I'm agin the temperance pledge, and there's nothin' more to be said about it."

Aunt Indiana sat down amid much applause. Then Jasper rose, and showed that intemperance was a great evil, and that public sentiment should be educated against it.

"This education should begin in childhood," he said, "in habits of self-respect and self-restraint. The child should be first instructed to say "No" to himself."

He proceeded to argue for the temperance pledge from his point of view.

"The world is educated by pledges," he said. "The patriot is kept in his line of march by the pledge; the business man makes a pledge when he signs a note; and the Christian takes pledges when he joins the Church.

We should be willing to take any pledge that will make life better. If eating meat cause my brother to stumble and offend, then I will not eat meat. I will sacrifice myself always to that which will help the world and honor G.o.d. I am sorry to differ from the good woman who has spoken, but I am for the use of the pledge. I never drank strong drink, and this hand shall sign any pledge that will help a poor tempted brother by my example."

Tall Abraham Lincoln arose.

"There! he's goin' to speak--I knew he'd been preparin'," whispered Aunt Indiana to Josiah Crawford. "Wonder what he'll have to say. _You'll_ have to answer him. He's just a regular Philistine, and goes stalkin'

through the land, and turns people's heads; and he's just Tom Linkern's son, who is shiftless and poor, and I'm goin' agin him."

The tall young man stood silent. The people were silent. Aunt Indiana gave her puncheon seat a push to break the force of that silence, and whispered to Josiah:

"There! they are all ears. I told ye 'twould be so. You must answer him."

Young Lincoln spoke slowly, and after this manner:

"My friends: When you pledge yourself to enforce a principle, you identify yourself with that principle, and give it power."

There was a silence. Then the people filled the little room with applause. He continued most impressively in the words of grand oration:[A]

[Footnote A: We use here some of the exact sentences which young Lincoln employed on a similar occasion at Springfield.]

"The universal sense of mankind on any subject is an argument, or at least an influence, not easily overcome. The success of the argument in favor of the existence of an over-ruling Providence mainly depends upon that sense; and men ought not, in justice, to be denounced for yielding to it in any case, or giving it up slowly, especially when they are backed by interest, fixed habits, or burning appet.i.tes.

"If it be true that those who have suffered by intemperance personally and have reformed are the most powerful and efficient instruments to push the reformation to ultimate success, it does not follow that those who have not suffered have no part left them to perform. Whether or not the world would be vastly benefited by a total and final banishment from it of all intoxicating drinks seems to me not now an open question.

Three fourths of mankind confess the affirmative with their tongues; and, I believe, all the rest acknowledge it in their hearts.

"But it is said by some, that men will think and act for themselves; that none will disuse spirits or anything else because his neighbors do; and that moral influence is not that powerful engine contended for. Let us examine this. Let me ask the man who could maintain this position most stiffly, what compensation he will accept to go to church some Sunday and sit during the sermon with his wife's bonnet upon his head?

Not a trifle, I'll venture. And why not? There would be nothing irreligious in it, nothing immoral, nothing uncomfortable--then why not?

Is it not because there would be something egregiously unfashionable in it? Then, it is the influence of fashion. And what is the influence of fashion but the influence that other people's actions have on our own actions--the strong inclination each of us feels to do as we see all our neighbors do? Nor is the influence of fashion confined to any particular thing or cla.s.s of things. It is just as strong on one subject as another. Let us make it as unfashionable to withhold our names from the temperance pledge as for husbands to wear their wives' bonnets to church, and instances will be just as rare in the one case as in the other."

The people saw the moral point clearly. They felt the force of what the young orator had said. No one was willing to follow him.

"Have you anything to say, Mr. Crawford?" said the moderator.

Josiah merely shook his head.

"He don't care to put on his wife's bonnet agin public opinion," said the blacksmith.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE SCHOOL THAT MADE LINCOLN PRESIDENT.

While teaching and preaching in Decatur, Jasper heard of the new village of Salem, Illinois, on the Sangamon. He thought that the little town might offer him a chance to exert a new influence, and he resolved to visit it, and to preach and to teach there for a time should the people receive him kindly.

The village was a small one, consisting of a community store, a school-house, a tavern, and a few houses; and Jasper knew of only one friend there at the time, a certain Mr. Duncan, who lived some two miles from the main street and the store.

One afternoon, after a long journey over prairie land, Jasper came to Mrs. Duncan's door, and was met cordially by the good woman, and invited by her to make his home there for a time.

The family gathered around the story-telling missionary after supper, and listened to his tales of the Rhine, all of which had some soul-lesson in his view, and enabled him to preach by parables. No stories better served this peculiar mission than Baron Fouque's, and this night he related Thiodolf, the Icelander.

There came a rap at the door.

"Who can that be?" said Mrs. Duncan in alarm.

She opened the door, and a tall, dark-faced young man stood before her.

"Why, Abe," said Mrs. Duncan, "what has brought you here at this late hour? I hope that nothing has happened!"

"That bill of yours. You paid me two dollars and six cents, did you not?

It was not right."

"Isn't it? Well, I paid you all that you asked me, like an honest woman, so I am not to blame for any mistake. How much more do you want? If it isn't too much I'll pay it, for I think that you mean well."

"More! That isn't it, Mrs. Duncan; you paid me six cents too much--you overpaid me. It was my fault."

"Your fault!--and honest Abe Lincoln, you have walked two miles out of your way to pay me that six cents! Why didn't you wait until to-morrow?"

"I couldn't."

"Why, what is going to happen?"

"I can't sleep with a thing like that on my conscience. Now I feel light and free again."

"Come in, if it is late. We've got company--a Tunker--teaches, preaches, and works. May be you have met him before. He's been traveling down in Indiana and middle Illinois."

Abraham came in, and Jasper rose to receive him.

"Lincoln," said the wandering school-master, "it does my heart good to see you. I see that you have grown in body and in soul. What brought you here? I have been telling stories for hours. Sit down, and tell us about what has happened to you since we met last."

The tall young man sat down.

"He's clark down to Orfutt's store now," said Mrs. Duncan, "and his word is as good as gold, and his weights are as true as the scales of the Judgment Day. Why, one day he made a wrong weight of half a pound, and as soon as he found it out he shut up the shop and went shivering through the village with that half-pound of tea as though the powers of the air were after him. He's schooled his conscience so that he couldn't be dishonest if he were to try. I do believe a dishonorable act would wither him and drive him crazy."

"Character, which is the habit of obedience to the universal law of right, is the highest school of life," said Jasper. "That is what I try to teach everywhere. But Abraham has heard me say that before. Where have you been since I saw you last? Tell me, what has been your school of life?"

"I have been to New Orleans in a flat-boat. I went for Mr. Orfutt, who now keeps the store in this place. When I came back he gave me a place in his store here. I have been here ever since."