their grain with a sickle, or gathered it with a cradle. In 1833 Obed Hussey invented a machine for reaping, and in 1834 Cyrus McCormick took out a patent for a similar machine. Mr. Manny, of Chicago, also

took out a patent, which McCormick claimed was an infringe1857. ment. Mr. Manny employed two able lawyers to defend his claim George Harding, of Philadelphia, who understood mechanics, and Abraham Lincoln, who was to take up the points of law involved. Mr. Reverdy Johnson, of Baltimore, regarded as one of the ablest lawyers in the country, was employed by Mr. McCormick. Mr. Lincoln prepared himself with great care, and was quite ready to meet Mr. Johnson in argument.

Judge McLean, of the Supreme Court, was to hear the case in Cincinnati. Mr. Lincoln reached that city and found that Mr. Manny had also engaged Edwin M. Stanton, of Pittsburg. The three lawyers met for consultation. Only two of them could be heard by the Court. Mr. Harding, by mutual consent, was to present the mechanical features of the invention. Who should present the legal points, Lincoln or Stanton? By custom it was Lincoln's right. He was prepared, Stanton was not. "You will speak, of course," said Stanton. "No, you," the courteous reply. "I will," the answer, and Mr. Stanton abruptly and discourteously left the room. He had taken a great dislike to Lincoln, who overheard him in an adjoining room say to a friend: "Where did such a lank creature come from? His linen duster is blotched on his back with perspiration and dust, so that you might use it for a map of the continent." (")

Mr. Lincoln felt the discourtesy. He had looked forward to the contest with keen zest, but Stanton had rudely pushed him aside and assumed superiority.

May, 1858.

We have seen Mr. Lincoln, when clerk in Offut's store in New Salem, vanquishing Jack Armstrong in a wrestling match, and Jack from that day becoming a true and steadfast friend. It was Hannah Armstrong, wife of Jack, who mended the clerk's clothing. He was ever welcomed to the Armstrong cabin. But Jack had died and Hannah was in trouble. To whom should she go but to the great-hearted friend, no longer reseating chairs or surveying land, but foremost among the lawyers of Illinois? It was a sad story. Her son William was in jail, accused of killing James T. Metzger. He went to a camp-meeting, drank too much whiskey, and quarrelled with Metzger.

A fatal blow was struck either by William or by a boon companion.

The people were so bitter against him that the trial was to be at Beardstown, in another county.

"Hannah, I'll do all I can for you." That was all Lawyer Lincoln could say.

The court-house is filled with people. The evidence in the case is very much against William. The witnesses swear they heard the quarrelling between him and Metzger. It was in the evening. They saw Bill strike the fatal blow.

"You say that you saw him strike the fatal blow?" Lincoln asks. "Yes."

"What time was it?"

"About eleven o'clock in the evening."

"Was it a bright night?"

"Yes, the moon was nearly full."

"What was its position in the sky?"

"It was just about the position of the sun at ten o'clock in the forenoon."

"You say that the moon was nearly full, and shining so bright that you could see Bill strike the blow."

"Yes."

Lawyer Lincoln takes an almanac from his pocket and shows it to the jury. "Gentlemen, either this witness is wrong or this almanac is wrong, for it says there was no moon that night. Which will you believe?" Very eloquent are the closing words of his argument. Hannah Armstrong is looking up into his face. He sees the white hair and the wrinkled brow of the woman who has been as a mother to him. There is no conclusive evidence that her son plunged the knife into the side of the murdered man. The almanac contradicts the witnesses who testify that they saw the stroke by the light of the moon. There are tears in his eyes as he tells the jury about the dead father, the cabin where he lived; how it had been a home to himself; how tenderly the woman sitting by his side had cared for him; how the son, with no father to restrain him, had fallen into bad company. With all the evidence before them the jury could not unmistakably say that William struck the blow. The jurors brush the tears from their sunburnt faces. The judge cannot conceal his emotion, and there is a sound of stifled sobbing in the room as he pictures the past.

The jury render its verdict of "not guilty." The court-room suddenly changes to a scene of congratulation- lawyer, judge, a great crowd of citizens shaking hands with Mr. Lincoln.

The summer birds were singing, but Abraham Lincoln did not heed them as he walked the streets. Old acquaintances met him, but he did not see them. He was lost in thought. At times his friends saw him take a scrap of paper from his hat and the stub of a pencil from his pocket and jot down a few words. In by-gone years his hat had been the New Salem Post-office, but it had come to be a receptacle of his thoughts. When he reached his office he usually emptied it of the bits of paper, dipped his pen into a large wooden inkstand, and wrote out the thoughts that had come to him. He was thinking about the decision of Chief-justice Taney, of what was going on in Kansas, and smiled as he reflected upon the predicament in which Douglas found himself. He looked into the future, and the smile faded away. He saw what other men did not see, that either slavery or freedom was to be supreme in the nation; that ever since the advent of Jesus Christ on earth righteousness and liberty had been making headway against wrong and slavery. He had an abiding faith in God, and saw that sooner or later freedom was to win.

ABRAHAM LINCOLN'S INKSTAND.

Mr. Lincoln was not an Abolitionist, but was against the further extension of slavery. Possibly before the formation of the Republican Party he could not have said just what course ought to be pursued to bring about its final extinction. He was being educated by passing events. He read the "Antislavery Standard," the New York "Tribune," the Chicago "Tribune," which came regularly to his office. "Never did a man," said his partner, Mr. Herndon, "change as did Mr. Lincoln. No sooner had he planted himself right on the slavery question than his whole soul seemed burning. He blossomed right out. Spiritual things became clear to him."

The hotels of Springfield were filled with delegates from all the counties in the State. They were discussing the great question of the

1858.

hour- the decision of the Supreme Court, its effect on the June 16, "Popular Sovereignty" doctrine of Douglas. They had read about the massacre in Kansas, and were enthusiastic over the formation of the Republican Party. In a quiet chamber Abraham Lincoln was reading his speech to several of his confidential friends. He wanted their opinion in regard to it. These the opening sen

tences:

"If we could first know where we are and whither we are tending, we could better judge what to do and how to do it. We are now far into the fifth year since a policy was initiated with the avowed object and confident promise of putting an end to slavery agitation. Under the operation of that policy that agitation has not only not ceased, but has constantly augmented. In my opinion it will not cease until a crisis has been reached and passed. A house divided against itself cannot stand.' I believe this Government cannot endure permanently half slave and half free. I do not expect the Union to be dissolved, I do not expect the house to fall, but I do expect it will cease to be divided. It will become all one thing or all the other. Either the opponents of slavery will arrest the further spread of it, and place it where the public mind shall rest in the belief that it is in the course of ultimate extinction, or its advocates will push it forward till it shall become alike lawful in all the States, old as well as new, North as well as South."(*)

His friends were startled.

"It will never do for you to make that speech," they said. you say is true, but the time has not come for you to say it. defeat your election. It will ruin the Republican Party."

"What It will

He does

Mr. Lincoln hears them, rises from his chair, stands erect. not look into the faces of those around him. It is the old far-away look, as if seeing what they cannot see.

"My friends, I have given much thought to this question. The time has come when these sentiments should be uttered. If it is decreed that I should go down because of this speech, then let me go down linked with it to the truth. Let me die in the advocacy of what is just and right."

If it is decreed. He believes in God, a being of absolute justice and truth, who directs the affairs of men and nations. He himself is of little account. Justice and truth are eternal, and if need be he will go down in their defence.

Not quite half a century has gone by since his mother folded him in her arms in the cheerless Kentucky home, less than twenty-five years since he was swinging an axe in the woods on the bank of the Sangamon; but, with a great prize before him, he tramples all political and personal considerations beneath his feet. In this supreme hour he stands with the steadfast men of all the ages. Not a word is changed. He will deliver it as written or not at all.

He exposed the plan by which Kansas was to be made a Slave State, and slavery carried into the Free States-a plan arranged by Stephen A. Douglas, Franklin Pierce, Roger B. Taney, and James Buchanan. "We cannot," he said, "absolutely know that all these exact adaptations are the result of preconcert. But when we see a lot of framed timbers, different portions of which we know have been gotten out at different times and places by different workmen-Stephen, Franklin, Roger, and

James, for instance-and when we see these timbers joined together, and see that they exactly make the frame of a house or a mill, all the tenons and mortises exactly fitting and all the lengths and proportions exactly adapted to their respective places, and not a piece too many or too few, not omitting even scaffolding, we find it impossible not to believe that Stephen, Franklin, Roger, and James all understood one another from the beginning, and all worked upon a common plan drawn before the first blow was struck."

The convention nominated him as candidate for Senator, but the delegates went home with heavy hearts, fearing the sentiments expressed would not be acceptable to the Republicans of the State.

"The first ten lines of your speech will bring about your defeat,” wrote his friend Swett from Chicago.

"You have made a great mistake," the words of another.

"If I had," wrote Mr. Lincoln in reply, "to draw my pen across my

LEONARD SWETT.

record and erase my whole life from sight, and if I had one poor choice left as to what I should save from the wreck, I should choose that speech and leave it to the world as it is."

Douglas and Lincoln both visited Chi

cago. A great crowd assembled in front of the Tremont House to listen to a speech from the former. He had many ardent friends who admired his great abilities and his winning ways. He knew Mr. Lincoln

was in the city and courteously invited him to take a seat on the platform. It was a gracious act. The invitation was accepted. The thousands in the street had an opportunity of seeing the two foremost men of the State, both of them in the full vigor of manhood.