and her children had been slaves in Kentucky, but their master had brought them to Illinois and given them their freedom. Her son was a cabin-boy on a steamboat. When the boat reached New Orleans the boy went on shore, and, not having a pass, was arrested. He was in jail, and would soon be sold into slavery because he had no money to pay the fees due the jailor. He was a citizen of Illinois. "What can you do for the boy, legally and constitutionally?" wrote Lincoln to the Governor of the State.

"I am powerless; I have no authority," was the reply.

Mr. Lincoln saw as never before the aggressiveness of slavery; how it was laying its iron hands upon citizens of Illinois. He walked the floor with rising indignation. "I'll have that negro back, or I'll have an agitation in this State that shall last twenty years, if need be, to give the Governor authority to act in such a case!" he exclaims. He obtained $200, and secured the return of the boy.

It was a pleasure for him to help others. He loved justice and right. He would not undertake to conduct a case in court unless he had right on his side. It was a very strange announcement which he made when a case was called in which he appeared as counsel: "May it please your honor, I have examined this case with great care; the only question at issue is one of authority. I have not been able to find any authority to sustain my side, but I have found several cases in point on the other side. I will give them, and submit the case to the Court." Instead of presenting his own side, or instead of sitting in silence, he had given the argument and authority on the side of his opponent.

A lawyer in Beardstown received a call from Lincoln. "I learn," said the latter, "that you are suing some of my clients, and I have come to see about it."

"Yes, I have brought suit against a man in order to make him carry out a contract. Here is the agreement between the parties. Read it, and see if I have not justice on my side," the reply.

"You are right. Your client is justly entitled to what he claims, and I shall so represent it to the Court. It is against my principle to contest what is clearly a matter of right." (")

Right first, justice always, chicanery never-those were the principles of Abraham Lincoln.

A man wanted him to undertake a case, told his story, and was astonished to hear Lincoln reply: "Yes, I can doubtless obtain your case for you. I can set the whole neighborhood at loggerheads. I can distress a widowed mother and her six fatherless children, and

thereby get you $600, to which you seem to have a legal claim, but which rightfully, as it appears to me, belong quite as much to the woman and her children as to you. You must remember that some things are legally right which are not morally right. I will not undertake your case, but will give you a little advice, for which I shall charge nothing. You seem to be an energetic man, and I advise you to make $600 some other way."

At Clinton there was so interesting a case that men and women from all the surrounding country crowded the court-room. Fifteen women were arraigned. A liquor seller persisted in selling whiskey to their husbands after the wives begged him not to do so. He cared nothing for their protestations, but laughed in their faces. The tears upon their cheeks did not move him. What should they do? There was no law to stop him. They marched to the groggery, smashed in the heads of the barrels with axes, and broke the demijohns and bottles. The fellow had them arrested. No lawyer volunteered to defend them. Abraham Lincoln, from Springfield, entered the room. There was something about him which emboldened them to speak to him. "We have no one to defend us. Would it be asking too much to inquire if you can say a kind word in our behalf?" the request.

The lawyer from Springfield rises. All eyes are upon him. "May it please the Court, I will say a few words in behalf of the women who are arraigned before your honor and the jury. I would suggest, first, that there be a change in the indictment, so as to have it read, 'The State against Mr. Whiskey,' instead of 'The State against the Women.' It would be far more appropriate. Touching this question, there are three laws: First, the law of self-protection; second, the law of the statute; third, the law of God. The law of self-protection is the law of necessity, as shown when our fathers threw the tea into Boston harbor, and in asserting their right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. This is the defence of these women. The man who has persisted in selling whiskey has had no regard for their well-being or the welfare of their husbands and sons. He has had no fear of God or regard for man; neither has he had any regard for the laws of the statute. No jury can fix any damages or punishment for any violation of the moral law. The course pursued by this liquor dealer has been for the demoralization of society. His groggery has been a nuisance. These women, finding all moral suasion of no avail with this fellow, oblivious to all tender appeal, alike regardless of their prayers and tears, in order to protect their households and promote the welfare of the community, united to suppress the nuisance.

The good of society demanded its suppression. They accomplished what otherwise could not have been done."

There was no need for him to say more. The whole case had been stated, and the jury understood it.

"Ladies," said the judge, "you need not remain any longer in court unless you desire to. I will require no bond of you; and if there should be any fine imposed, I will give you notice." The judge was so polite and smiling that everybody in the room understood that there was no probability of a fine. (*)

Mr. Cass had a case in court. He owned two yoke of oxen and a breaking-up plough which he wanted to sell, and which Mr. Snow's two sons bought, giving their note in payment. Neither of the boys had arrived at the age of manhood. Mr. Cass trusted that they would pay the note when it became due; but it was not paid. Abraham Lincoln questioned a witness:

66 Can you tell me where the oxen are now?" he asked.

66

They are on the farm where the boys have been ploughing."

"Have you seen them lately?"

"I saw them last week."

"How old are the boys now?"

"One is a little over twenty-one, and the other is nearly twentythree.".

"They were both under age when the note was given?"

"Yes, sir."

"That is all."

"Gentlemen of the jury: I do not think that those boys would have tried to cheat Mr. Cass out of his oxen but for the advice of their counsel. It was bad advice in morals and in law. The law never sanctions cheating, and a lawyer must be very smart indeed to twist the law so that it will sanction fraud. The judge will tell you what your own sense of justice has already told you-that if those boys were mean enough to plead the baby act when they came to be men, they at least ought to have taken the oxen and plough back to Mr. Cass. They ought to know that they cannot go back on their contract and also keep what the note was given for."

So plain the case the jury, without leaving their seats, rendered a verdict, and the young men were obliged to pay for the oxen and plough, besides learning a wholesome lesson.

While riding the circuit Abraham Lincoln was taking a lively interest in political affairs. There was much dissatisfaction throughout the

country with the administration of President Van Buren, whom the Democratic party renominated. The Whig party nominated General William Henry Harrison, of Ohio, who was born in a log-cabin, who fought a battle with the Indians at Tippecanoe, in Indiana, and whom the Whigs called "Old Tippecanoe.' He won other battles against the British in Canada. During the campaign there were mass-meetings, log-cabins, processions, brass bands,

oxen roasted whole, flag-raisings, speeches, and songs. The songs sung told about General Harrison, his eating corn-bread and drinking cider. Abraham Lincoln was making speeches throughout Illinois for Harrison. His speeches were enlivened with anecdotes and stories, and were much liked by the people. His partner, Mr. Stuart, was a member of Congress. With one member of the firm in Washington, and the other giving his attention to politics, the spiders could spin their webs undisturbed in their law office. Not much money came from riding the circuit.

Once more he was elected to the Legislature. In the State-house he made the acquaintance of men of influence and position. In the bar-room of the hotel he was the centre of a circle of admiring listeners.

Springfield was no longer a small county seat, but the capital of the State, the resort of men and women of influence and position. It was a hospitable mansion-that of Ninian Edwards-which opened its doors to the Governor, judges, members of the Legislature, and distinguished visitors. They received a gracious welcome from the young bride, whose former home was in the most cultured town of Kentucky-Lexington. Shall we wonder that the young men of Springfield were often found in the parlor of the Edwards mansion, made doubly radiant and attractive by the presence of Mrs. Edwards and her unmarried sister, Mary Todd?

"I want to introduce you to Mary Todd," said Mr. Speed to Mr. Lincoln, as they entered the house of Mr. Edwards. Doubtless, the

acquaintance was all the more pleasurable to him from the fact that Miss Todd was acquainted with Henry Clay. She was twenty-one, vivacious, sparkling, the centre of a circle of admiring young men. She never was at a loss for a partner in the promenade, the minuet, or waltz. He did not dance, neither did he know how to play cards;() but yet she was never more vivacious than when in conversation with him. We are not to think that a young man who but a few years before pulled an oar and swung an axe to earn his daily bread, whose life had been a struggle against adversity, could at once become a general favorite in cultured society. He did not understand all the amenities of social intercourse; but somehow the attentions of Mr. Lincoln were more acceptable to Miss Todd than those proffered by other young men. As the weeks went on, friendship ripened to a marriage engagement. In his lonely chamber he was pondering a great question. Could he give her the affection that would be her due? Could he fill her life with joy? Ought he to accept her love when he could give so little in return? Not for the world would he imperil her happiness. Is it strange that the tears glistened upon her cheeks when he informed her he could not reciprocate her affection as he ought and as she deserved? Need we wonder that when he saw the tears he kissed them away and plighted his troth anew?

January, 1841.

The day fixed for the wedding arrived. The marriage of Abraham Lincoln and Mary Todd would be a notable social event. There was much preparation in the hospitable mansion of Ninian Edwards. The guests assemble; the feast is prepared; all are waiting. The bride in her beauty is ready to descend from her chamber to meet him who is to fill her life with happiness. He has not arrived. None of all the listening ears can hear his approaching footsteps. The evening wanes. He does not come. The guests take their departure; the lights are extinguished; the wedding-feast is not eaten. Mary Todd is in her chamber, overwhelmed with mortification. Joshua Speed searches for the delinquent groom, and finds him pale, haggard, and in the deepest melancholy. (') Heart-rending the letter which he sent to his friend, Mr. Stuart:

"I am the most miserable man living. If what I feel were equally distributed to the whole human family, there would not be a cheerful face on earth. Whether I shall ever be better I cannot tell; I awfully forebode I shall not. To remain as I am is impossible. I must die or be better." (")

In the mythology of our forefathers of Norseland a bird of ebony