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at a loss to account for this apparent love of impurity, in a man of such exalted aims, such deep truthfulness, such high aspirations. The matter is easily explained.
Those who have heard these stories will readily admit that they are the wittiest and most amusing of their kind, and, when they have admitted that, they have in their minds the only reason of Mr. Lincoln's indulgence in them. It was always the elements of wit and humor that captivated him. He was not an impure man in his life, or in his imaginations. For impurity's sake, he never uttered an impure word, or made an impure allusion, but, whenever he found anything humorous, ludicrous or witty, he could not resist the inclination to use it, whatever the incidents might be with which it was associated. Anything that was morally beautiful touched him to tears. He was equally sensitive to all that was heroic, beautiful, grand, sweet, ludicrous and grotesque in human life. He wept as readily over a tale of heroic self-devotion, as he laughed over a humorous story.
It is also to be said that the habit of telling these exceptionable stories was the habit of his profession, in his region of country, at the time he was engaged in practice there. He indulged in them no more than his brother lawyers, and he excelled them in his stories no more than he did in everything else. It is to be said, further, that there is something in the practice of the law that makes these stories more tolerable in the legal profession, even when the members of it are Christian men-men of pure morals and pure instincts—than in any other profession in the world. The legal profession brings men into constant association with impurity, with the details of cases of shame, with all the smut and dirt that can be raked from the haunts of vice, with all the particulars of prurient dalliance and bestial licentiousness. With this habitual-this professional-familiarity with impurity, it is not strange that the sense of propriety in language becomes deadened; and none know better than lawyers that there is in their profession, in the older parts of the country as well as in the newer, great laxity of speech, touching subjects which they
would blush to introduce-which would cost them their selfrespect and the respect of the community to introduce-among women. Mr. Lincoln was not a sinner in this thing above other men, equally pure and good in his profession. It is not a habit to be justified in any man. It is not a habit to be tolerated in any man who indulges in it to gratify simply his love of that which is beastly. In Mr. Lincoln's case, it is a habit to be explained and regretted. His whole life had been spent with people without refinement. His legal study and practice had rendered this class of subjects familiar. It was the habit of his professional brethren to tell these objectionable stories, and, even if his pure sensibilities sometimes rebelled— for he possessed and always maintained the profoundest respect for women-the wit and humor they contained overtempted him.
One of the most beautiful traits of Mr. Lincoln was his considerate regard for the poor and obscure relatives he had left, plodding along in their humble ways of life. Wherever upon his circuit he found them, he always went to their dwellings, ate with them, and, when convenient, made their houses his home. He never assumed in their presence the slightest superiority to them, in the facts and conditions of his life. He gave them money when they needed and he possessed it. Countless times he was known to leave his companions at the village hotel, after a hard day's work in the court room, and spend the evening with these old friends and companions of his humbler days. On one occasion, when urged not to go, he replied, "Why, aunt's heart would be broken if I should leave town without calling upon her;" yet he was obliged to walk several miles to make the call.
A little fact in this connection will illustrate his ever-present desire to deal honestly and justly with men. He had always a partner in his professional life, and, when he went out upon the circuit, this partne vas usually at home. While out, he frequently took up anisposed of cases that were never entered at the office. In these cases, after receiving his fees, he divided the money in his pocket book, labeling each sum
(wrapped in a piece of paper,) that belonged to his partner, stating his name, and the case on which it was received. He could not be content to keep an account. He divided the money, so that if he, by any casualty, should fail of an opportunity to pay it over, there could be no dispute as to the exact amount that was his partner's due. This may seem trivial, nay, boyish, but it was like Mr. Lincoln. But we must set aside the professional man for a while, to notice other affairs which mingled in his life.
THE "Sangamon Chief," as Mr. Lincoln had been popularly named, was placed upon the legislative ticket again in 1840, and re-elected. At a special session of the previous legislature, held during 1839, Vandalia as the capital of the state had been forsaken, and Springfield received the legislature and the archives and offices of the state government. Mr. Lincoln was in the legislature, and, at the same time, at home. The fact reconciled him to holding an office which he felt to be a disadvantage to his business, for he could attend upon his duties at the State House, and, at the same time, have a care that his professional interests were not entirely sacrificed. In the only session held by the legislature of 1840, no important business of general interest was transacted. The democratic preponderance in the state had been partially restored and was still maintained, and although Mr. Lincoln was again the first man on the whig side and the candidate for speaker, for which office he was supported by more than the strength of his party, he was defeated as he had been in 1838. This session finished up Mr. Lincoln's connection with the legislature of the state, for, although urged by the people to represent them again, considerations of a private nature made him peremptory in his refusal to be again a candidate. It is recorded, however, that he was re-elected in 1854, and that he resigned before taking his seat. The election was made against his will, for a larger political life was already dawning upon him. It was about this time that a strange incident in his private
life occurred-one, certainly, which was quite in discord with his principles and feelings. A sharp, sarcastic poem appeared in the Sangamon Journal, edited at that time by Simeon Francis. The poem had an evident allusion to James Shields, a young lawyer of Springfield, and since a United States Senator from Illinois. General Shields was at that time hotblooded and impulsive, and, instead of laughing off the matter, regarded it seriously, and demanded of Mr. Francis the author's name. Mr. Francis knew at once what the demand meant, and sought to delay his answer. He asked the young man for a day to consider whether he should reveal the name of his contributor or not. The request was granted, when Mr. Francis went to work to ascertain how he could lift the responsibility of the publication from his own shoulders, as the writer of the poem was a lady. On inquiry among the lady's friends, he ascertained that Mr. Lincoln was, at least, one of her admirers, and that he possibly bore a tenderer relation to her. Accordingly he went to Mr. Lincoln, and told him that he was in trouble, and explained to him the cause of his difficulty. It seemed certain that somebody would be obliged to fight a duel with Mr. Shields, or be branded by him as a coward; and Mr. Francis, though entirely responsible for the publication of a lady's poem shrank, in a very unworthy way, from the alternative.
As soon as Mr. Lincoln comprehended the case, and saw what Mr. Francis expected of him, he told the editor that if Mr. Shields should call again, and demand the author's name, to inform him that he, Lincoln, held himself responsible for the poem. The result was just what was expected, at least by Mr. Francis. Mr. Lincoln at once received a challenge and accepted it. There must have existed in that part of the country, at that time, a state of feeling on this subject which cannot now be comprehended among the people of the North. With a natural aversion to all violence and bloodshed, with a moral sense that shrank from the barbaric arbitrament of the duel, with his whole soul at war with the policy which seeks to heal a wound of honor by the commission of a crime, he