those days. Some of them became famous in later years. Among these were Lyman Trumbull, afterwards United States Senator from Illinois; O. H. Browning, Senator, and Secretary of the Interior under Lincoln's administration; W. H. Bissell, Representative in Congress, and Governor of the State; David Davis, Senator, acting Vice-President, and also a justice of the Supreme Court of the United States; Stephen A. Douglas, Senator, and a candidate for the Presidency. So far as we know, none of these men, afterwards eminent in their time, had any expectation of their future successes in public life. But the modest Lincoln was in training for his exalted station: and it is worth while to note here that his associations were those that inspired and lifted him up, not dragged him down. It is likely that he regarded those about him with a respect akin to awe and that he never hoped at that time to be equal to them in reputation. How they regarded him, it is not necessary to inquire, except to know that nobody ever thought that he would, in time, distance them all in the race for distinction. He determined to excel, not to outstrip anybody; to do his best, leaving the results to God. Long after he had become President, he said that the true rule of life was to do one's "level best," leaving the rest to take care of itself. He believed that the best preparation for the duties of to-morrow was the faithful performance of the duties of to-day.

When we look at what young Lincoln had accomplished at the time of which we are writing, we shall see that he had already begun to evince great talent,

although he may not have been a man of mark. For example, in 1837, when he was not yet twenty-eight years old, he was asked to deliver a lecture before an association of young men in Springfield. He chose for his theme "The Perpetuation of our Political Institutions," rather an ambitious topic, one might say. But it was not a crude effort. Considering that it was the work of a self-taught man, who had never seen the inside of a college, it was remarkable as a piece of literary composition. It was the address of a thinking man, an ardent and devoted patriot. In order that the reader may have some notion of the earlier beginnings of Lincoln's statesmanship, one extract from this speech is subjoined. Alluding to our Revolutionary ancestors, he said:

"In history, we hope, they will be read of and recounted so long as the Bible shall be read. But even granting that they will, their influence cannot be what it heretofore has been. Even then, they cannot be so universally known nor so vividly felt as they were by the generation just gone to rest. At the close of that struggle, nearly every adult male had been a participator in some of its

scenes.

The consequence was, that of those scenes, in the form of a husband, a father, a son, or a brother, a living history was to be found in every family—a history bearing the indubitable testimonies to its own authenticity in the limbs mangled, in the scars of wounds received in the midst of the very scene related; a history, too, that could be read and understood alike by all, the wise and the ignorant, the learned and the unlearned. But those histories are gone. They can be read no more forever. They were a fortress of strength; but what the invading

foeman could never do, the silent artillery of that time has done the levelling of its walls. They are gone. They were a forest of giant oaks; but the resistless hurricane has swept over them and left only here and there a lonely trunk despoiled of its verdure, shorn of its foliage, unshading and unshaded, to murmur in a few more gentle breezes and to combat with its mutilated limbs a few more ruder storms, then to sink and be no more."

A little later, in 1839, there was a remarkable debate in the Illinois Legislature, in which the Democratic disputants were Stephen A. Douglas, John Calhoun, Josiah Lamborn, and Jesse B. Thomas. The Whig speakers were Stephen T. Logan, Edward D. Baker, Orville H. Browning, and Abraham Lincoln. All of these men were conspicuous figures in Illinois politics, and most of them became celebrated throughout the country in after years. During the debate, one of the speakers taunted the other side with the hopelessness of their cause and the fewness of their numbers. In replying to him, Lincoln said: "Address that argument to cowards and knaves. With the free and the brave it will effect nothing. It may be true; if it must, let it. Many free countries have lost their liberty, and ours may lose hers; but, if she shall, let it be my proudest plume, not that I was the last to desert, but that I never deserted her."

Martin Van Buren was then President, and all who opposed his administration were denounced and persecuted with a virulence unknown in these more liberal days. Alluding to this Lincoln said: "Bow to it I never will. Here, before heaven, and in the face of the world, I swear eternal fidelity to the just cause

of the land of my life, my liberty, and my love. The cause approved of by our judgment and our hearts, in disaster, in chains, in death, we never faltered in defending."

In 1840, the country was deeply stirred by the Presidential campaign of that year. Martin Van Buren was nominated by the Democrats, and General William H. Harrison by the Whigs. Lincoln was one of the Presidential electors on the Harrison ticket, and he took a lively interest in the canvass, making speeches and going on long expeditions for the sake of his candidate. Harrison lived in Ohio, where he had been one of the earlier pioneers. The dwelling of the pioneer, of course, was a log cabin; his favorite drink was supposed to be "hard" or sour, fermented apple cider. In a very short time the Harrison campaign became "the log-cabin and hardcider campaign." Even in the staid, old-fashioned cities and towns of the Eastern States, log cabins were built for rallying-places. Barrels of hard cider were kept on tap, and, instead of the customary tin cup for drinking purposes, gourds were ostentatiously hung out. Coon-skins were nailed on the outer walls of these symbolic log cabins. In some places extravagant expedients were resorted to in order to rouse public enthusiasm. In Boston, for example, a huge ball was made by covering a wood framework, some fifty feet in circumference, with painted cloth; and on the ends was lettered the legend, "This is the ball that is rolling on." The novel device was rolled through the streets of the city, on the occasion of a log-cabin parade, the big ball being

guided by ropes hitched to its axis. Campaign songsters, flags, and all sorts of inventions to stir up the people, were scattered broadcast all over the country.

Lincoln threw himself heart and soul into this extraordinary and memorable canvass. At a great meeting in Springfield, Edward Baker, Lincoln's close friend, was speaking in a large room next below the floor on which Lincoln's office was. A trap-door, once used for ventilating purposes, was cut in the ceiling over the spot where the speaker stood. Lincoln raised this slightly and listened to Baker's harangue. Presently, Baker, losing his temper, assailed the Democrats very hotly, and, as some of these were present, they made a rush for the speaker, crying: "Pull him off the platform!" To their intense surprise, the trap-door was lifted, and Lincoln's large feet, well known by their proportions, appeared; then his legs, and finally his body, slid down, and the tall son of the backwoods stood defiantly by the side of Baker. Quieting the rising tide by a wave of his hand, Lincoln said: "Gentlemen, let us not disgrace the age and country in which we live. This is a land where freedom of speech is guaranteed. Baker has a right to speak, and a right to be permitted to do so. I am here to protect him, and no man shall take him from this stand if I can prevent it." Lincoln had sufficient reputation for courage and muscle, as well as for fairness, to warrant that Baker should have no further interruption.