brought out, tried, and sentenced to pay a fine. Meanwhile the steamboat had left, and the boy was liable to be sold into slavery to pay his fine. Word was sent to the boy's mother, in Illinois, and, in her extremity, she came to Lincoln, who had gained some reputation as being one of the very few lawyers in Springfield who dared to undertake a case involving what were called the rights of slavery. Lincoln was very much moved, and he besought his partner, Mr. W. H. Herndon, to go and see the Governor and ask if there was no way by which a free negro, held in duress in New Orleans, could be brought home. The Governor regretted very much to say that there was no remedy provided by the constitution or the laws for such a state of facts. He could do nothing. Lincoln rose to his feet, in great excitement, and said: "By the Almighty! I'll have that negro back soon, or I'll have a twenty years' excitement in Illinois until the Governor does have a legal and constitutional right to do something in the premises!" The twenty years' excitement came in due time, but, meanwhile, the two lawyers sent money of their own to New Orleans, entrusting the case to a correspondent; the fine and other expenses were paid and the boy sent home to his grateful mother.

It is related of Edward D. Baker, Lincoln's friend and comrade, that, being once asked to undertake a suit in which the rights of a fugitive slave were involved, he said that, as a public man and a politician, he did not dare to take it. An antislavery friend of the man who was in trouble was next applied to for

advice, and he said: "Go to Lincoln. He's not afraid of an unpopular case. When I go for a lawyer to defend an arrested fugitive slave, other lawyers will refuse me, but if Lincoln is at home he will always take my case."

The reader will remember that the leader of "the Clary's Grove boys," Jack Armstrong, became Lincoln's steadfast friend and ally, after the tussle between him and young Lincoln, in Salem, during Lincoln's rough apprenticeship in the company of the frontiersmen. When Jack Armstrong was married, and had become a steady-going householder, his home was always open to the welcome visits of his old friend. Here, when lack of employment cast him down, Lincoln found a harbor of rest and refuge. It was in Mrs. Jack Armstrong's house that a chance visitor first saw Lincoln, prone on a trundle-bed, rocking a cradle with one foot while he read aloud. And in later years, when Jack Armstrong was dead and his boy had grown to man's estate, his mother came to Lincoln in great trouble. Her son, William D. Armstrong, had been arrested for murder. Lincoln knew nothing of the case, but he undertook it, and, after looking into the facts, became assured that the lad was innocent.

It appeared that young Armstrong, in company with some of his mates, had visited a camp-meeting and had become involved in a quarrel. The difficulty was prolonged into the night, and, in the course of the fracas, a mortal blow was dealt to a young man on the opposite side of the dispute, whatever it was. The evidence against the prisoner was

solid and substantial, although chiefly circumstantial, except that one witness did swear that he saw the prisoner inflict the fatal blow with a slung-shot, by "the light of the moon, which was shining brightly." Lincoln surprised everybody by his calm, merciless, and destructive analysis of the evidence, which, to him, looked like a conspiracy against young Armstrong. But when he came to the evidence of the man who had made oath that he beheld the blow delivered by the light of the brightly shining moon, he called for an almanac and showed that on the night in question there was no moon at all! The climax was reached, and the jury brought in a verdict of "not guilty." The widow had not been able to endure the suspense in court, and had gone out into a pasture to weep and pray alone. Before the sun went down, a messenger came running to her with the glad tidings: "Bill is free; your son is cleared." For this inestimable service Lincoln would take no fee. No record of the argument in the case has been left, but one who heard it says his plea was irresistible. Even before he reached the climax of his argument, by his manly eloquence he had succeeded in convincing the jury, as he had convinced himself, that young Armstrong was innocent. And this was done, too, when popular prejudice was all against the prisoner, and when, in consequence of the prevailing belief in his guilt, Lincoln had been obliged to have the trial moved to another circuit. It has been said that Lincoln resorted to a trick and introduced an old almanac to deceive the jury. But to those who knew him, this tale is simply incred

ible. Lincoln never employed unworthy tricks. The foreman of the jury afterwards offered to make affidavit that the almanac used by Lincoln was of the year of the murder.

While we are considering Mr. Lincoln as a lawyer, it may be as well to read what an eminent judge said of him. When the news of Lincoln's death, in 1865, was officially noted in the courts of the State, Judge Drummond, of Chicago, said: "I have no hesitation in saying that he was one of the ablest lawyers I have ever known." And, speaking of his personal appearance and manner at the bar, the Judge said:

"With a voice by no means pleasant, and, indeed, when excited, in its shrill tones sometimes almost disagreeable, without any of the personal graces of the orator, without much in the outward man indicating superiority of intellect, without great quickness of perception, still, his mind was so vigorous, his comprehension so exact and clear, and his judgment so sure, that he easily mastered the intricacies of his profession, and became one of the ablest reasoners and most impressive speakers at our bar." "He always tried a case fairly and honestly. He never intentionally misrepresented the evidence of a witness or the argument of an opponent. He met them squarely, and if he could not explain the one or answer the other, substantially admitted it. He never misstated the law according to his own intelligent view of it.'

Lincoln's voice was not sonorous, and at times it rose to a high, somewhat shrill key. In ordinary conversation his tones were agreeable, and his enunciation clear. When excited, in speaking, he rose to a commanding height, so that one aged man hear

ing him speak from a political platform, for the first time after he had become famed in his own State, said: "He seemed to be about twenty foot high!" At such times Lincoln no longer was the homely and ungainly man that he was reputed to be. His eyes flashed fire; his appearance underwent a change as though the inspired mind had transformed the body; his face, darkened with malarial influences and seamed with the wrinkles of premature age, was transfigured with that mysterious "inner light" which some observers have said reminded them of a flame glowing within a half-transparent vase. Το the end of his life Lincoln adhered to the old-fashioned pronunciation of many familiar words. With him a chair was a "cheer"; legislature was "legislatur," and so on. In presenting a close argument he would stoop over towards his auditors, lower and lower, until he had got to the point where the demonstration was shot home upon those who had followed him. Then, with a sudden jerk, he would straighten himself up, as somebody has said, “like a jackknife." Unconscious although this was, it was very effective.