Lincoln's Yarns and Stories Part 31

Being in Washington one day, the Rev. Robert Collyer thought he'd take a look around. In pa.s.sing through the grounds surrounding the White House, he cast a glance toward the Presidential residence, and was astonished to see three pairs of feet resting on the ledge of an open window in one of the apartments of the second story. The divine paused for a moment, calmly surveyed the unique spectacle, and then resumed his walk toward the War Department.

Seeing a laborer at work not far from the Executive Mansion, Mr.

Collyer asked him what it all meant. To whom did the feet belong, and, particularly, the mammoth ones? "You old fool," answered the workman, "that's the Cabinet, which is a-settin', an' them thar big feet belongs to 'Old Abe.'"

A BULLET THROUGH HIS HAT.

A soldier tells the following story of an attempt upon the life of Mr.

Lincoln "One night I was doing sentinel duty at the entrance to the Soldiers' Home. This was about the middle of August, 1864. About eleven o'clock I heard a rifle shot, in the direction of the city, and shortly afterwards I heard approaching hoof-beats. In two or three minutes a horse came dashing up. I recognized the belated President. The President was bareheaded. The President simply thought that his horse had taken fright at the discharge of the firearms.

"On going back to the place where the shot had been heard, we found the President's hat. It was a plain silk hat, and upon examination we discovered a bullet hole through the crown.

"The next day, upon receiving the hat, the President remarked that it was made by some foolish marksman, and was not intended for him; but added that he wished nothing said about the matter.

"The President said, philosophically: 'I long ago made up my mind that if anybody wants to kill me, he will do it. Besides, in this case, it seems to me, the man who would succeed me would be just as objectionable to my enemies--if I have any.'

"One dark night, as he was going out with a friend, he took along a heavy cane, remarking, good-naturedly: 'Mother (Mrs. Lincoln) has got a notion into her head that I shall be a.s.sa.s.sinated, and to please her I take a cane when I go over to the War Department at night--when I don't forget it.'"

NO KIND TO GET TO HEAVEN ON.

Two ladies from Tennessee called at the White House one day and begged Mr. Lincoln to release their husbands, who were rebel prisoners at Johnson's Island. One of the fair pet.i.tioners urged as a reason for the liberation of her husband that he was a very religious man, and rang the changes on this pious plea.

"Madam," said Mr. Lincoln, "you say your husband is a religious man.

Perhaps I am not a good judge of such matters, but in my opinion the religion that makes men rebel and fight against their government is not the genuine article; nor is the religion the right sort which reconciles them to the idea of eating their bread in the sweat of other men's faces. It is not the kind to get to heaven on."

Later, however, the order of release was made, President Lincoln remarking, with impressive solemnity, that he would expect the ladies to subdue the rebellious spirit of their husbands, and to that end he thought it would be well to reform their religion. "True patriotism,"

said he, "is better than the wrong kind of piety."

THE ONLY REAL PEACEMAKER.

During the Presidential campaign of 1864 much ill-feeling was displayed by the opposition to President Lincoln. The Democratic managers issued posters of large dimensions, picturing the Washington Administration as one determined to rule or ruin the country, while the only salvation for the United States was the election of McClellan.

We reproduce one of these 1864 campaign posters on this page, the t.i.tle of which is, "The True Issue; or 'That's What's the Matter.'"

The dominant idea or purpose of the cartoon-poster was to demonstrate McClellan's availability. Lincoln, the Abolitionist, and Davis, the Secessionist, are pictured as bigots of the worst sort, who were determined that peace should not be restored to the distracted country, except upon the lines laid down by them. McClellan, the patriotic peacemaker, is shown as the man who believed in the preservation of the Union above all things--a man who had no fads nor vagaries.

This peacemaker, McClellan, standing upon "the War-is-a-failure"

platform, is portrayed as a military chieftain, who would stand no nonsense; who would compel Mr. Lincoln and Mr. Davis to cease their quarreling; who would order the soldiers on both sides to quit their blood-letting and send the combatants back to the farm, workshop and counting-house; and the man whose election would restore order out of chaos, and make everything bright and lovely.

THE APPLE WOMAN'S Pa.s.s.

One day when President Lincoln was receiving callers a buxom Irish woman came into the office, and, standing before the President, with her hands on her hips, said:

"Mr. Lincoln, can't I sell apples on the railroad?"

President Lincoln replied: "Certainly, madam, you can sell all you wish."

"But," she said, "you must give me a pa.s.s, or the soldiers will not let me."

President Lincoln then wrote a few lines and gave them to her.

"Thank you, sir; G.o.d bless you!" she exclaimed as she departed joyfully.

SPLIT RAILS BY THE YARD.

It was in the spring of 1830 that "Abe" Lincoln, "wearing a jean jacket, shrunken buckskin trousers, a c.o.o.nskin cap, and driving an ox-team,"

became a citizen of Illinois. He was physically and mentally equipped for pioneer work. His first desire was to obtain a new and decent suit of clothes, but, as he had no money, he was glad to arrange with Nancy Miller to make him a pair of trousers, he to split four hundred fence rails for each yard of cloth--fourteen hundred rails in all. "Abe" got the clothes after awhile.

It was three miles from his father's cabin to her wood-lot, where he made the forest ring with the sound of his ax. "Abe" had helped his father plow fifteen acres of land, and split enough rails to fence it, and he then helped to plow fifty acres for another settler.

THE QUESTION OF LEGS.

Whenever the people of Lincoln's neighborhood engaged in dispute; whenever a bet was to be decided; when they differed on points of religion or politics; when they wanted to get out of trouble, or desired advice regarding anything on the earth, below it, above it, or under the sea, they went to "Abe."

Two fellows, after a hot dispute lasting some hours, over the problem as to how long a man's legs should be in proportion to the size of his body, stamped into Lincoln's office one day and put the question to him.

Lincoln listened gravely to the arguments advanced by both contestants, spent some time in "reflecting" upon the matter, and then, turning around in his chair and facing the disputants, delivered his opinion with all the gravity of a judge sentencing a fellow-being to death.

"This question has been a source of controversy," he said, slowly and deliberately, "for untold ages, and it is about time it should be definitely decided. It has led to bloodshed in the past, and there is no reason to suppose it will not lead to the same in the future.

"After much thought and consideration, not to mention mental worry and anxiety, it is my opinion, all side issues being swept aside, that a man's lower limbs, in order to preserve harmony of proportion, should be at least long enough to reach from his body to the ground."

TOO MANY WIDOWS ALREADY.

A Union officer in conversation one day told this story:

"The first week I was with my command there were twenty-four deserters sentenced by court-martial to be shot, and the warrants for their execution were sent to the President to be signed. He refused.