down, but God cares, and humanity cares, and I care; and with God's help I shall not fail. I may not see the end; but it will come, and I shall be vindicated; and these men will find they have not read their Bible right. "Much of this was uttered as if he were speaking to himself, and with a sad, earnest solemnity of manner impossible to be described. After a pause, he resumed:

''Dosen't it seem strange that men can ignore the moral aspect of this contest? No revelation could make it plainer to me that slavery or the Government must be destroyed. The future would be something awful, as I look at it, but for this rock on which I stand,' (alluding to the Testament which he still held in his hand,) 'especially with the knowledge of how these ministers are going to vote. It seems as if God had borne with this thing (slavery) until the very teachers of religion had come to defend it from the Bible, and to claim for it a divine character and sanction; and now the cup of iniquity is full, and the vials of wrath will be poured out.'

"Everything he said was of a peculiarly deep, tender, and religious tone, and all was tinged with a touching melancholy. He repeatedly referred to his conviction that the day of wrath was at hand, and that he was to be an actor in the terrible struggle which would issue on the overthrow of slavery, although he might not live to see the end.

"After further reference to a belief in the Divine Providence, and the fact of God in history, the conversation turned upon prayer. He freely stated his belief in the duty, privilege, and efficacy of prayer, and intimated, in no unmistakable terms, that he had sought in that way the Divine guidance and favor. The effect of

this conversation upon the mind of Mr. Bateman, a Christian gentleman whom Mr. Lincoln profoundly respected, was to convince him that Mr. Lincoln had, in a quiet way, found a path to the Christian standpoint— that he had found God, and rested on the eternal truth of God. As the two men were about to separate, Mr. Bateman remarked:

'I have not supposed that you were accustomed to think so much upon this class of subjects; cetainly your friends generally are ignorant of the sentiments you have expressed to me.'

"He replied quickly: 'I know they are, but I think more on these subjects than upon all others, and I have done so for years; and I am willing you should know it.'"

When his clients had practiced gross deception upon him, Mr. Lincoln forsook their cases in mid-passage; and he always refused to accept fees of those whom he advised not to prosecute. On one occasion, while engaged upon an important case, he discovered that he was on the wrong side. His associate in the case was immediately informed that he (Lincoln) would not make the plea. The associate made it, and the case, much to the surprise of Lincoln, was decided for his client. Perfectly convinced that his client was wrong, he would not receive one cent of the fee of nine hundred dollars which he paid. It is not wonderful that one who knew him well spoke of him as "perversely honest.

Lincolns Visit to Kansas.

Captain J. R. Fitch, of Evanston, Ill., in a contribution to the N. W. Christion Advocate, gives a very interesting account of Mr. Lincoln's visit to Kansas, which is as follows:

In the winter of 1859, shortly after the memorable contest between Abraham Lincoln and Stephen A. Douglas for the United States Senate, in which, although Illinois had given a Republican majority of 4,000 votes, the Democrats secured a majority of the Legislature on joint ballot, thereby securing the election of the minority candidate, an invitation was extended to Mr. Lincoln to pay a visit to the then Territory of Kansas.

Mr. Lincoln graciously accepted the invitation, and appointed a time convenient for him to come. A committee was appointed to meet him at the nearest railroad station, which was in Missouri between St. Joseph and Neston.

If my memory serves me, the committee consisted of Mark W. Delahay, afterwards United States District Judge; D. J. Brewer, now one of the Associate Justices of the Supreme Court; Hon. Henry J. Adams, Uncle George Keller, Josiah H. Kellogg, and myself. On the appointed day we met Mr. Lincoln at the station with carriages and drove down to Leavenworth city.

In the evening a meeting was held in Stockton's hall. The hall was crowded to its utmost capacity, and when Mr. Lincoln rose to speak he seemed to unwind himself, and, as he straightened himself up, he reminded me of a telescope being opened out, joint by joint. He stood there at first like a whipped boy at school, the most awk

ward specimen of humanity it had ever been my pleasure to look upon.

When he began his address, however, the impression was instantaneous that an orator was talking—a man who thoroughly believed every word he was saying. The audience was spellbound as he told of the crimes committed for the perpetuation of slavery.

The pro-slavery Democrats had secured seats for themselves in one part of the hall. Among them was a Presbyterian minister from Kentucky, a fine looking but very vain man.

After Mr. Lincoln had poured his hot shot into the proslavery party as long as the minister, whose name was Pitzer, could stand it, he rose and called out in a loud voice:

How about amalgamation?"

Mr. Lincoln, turning toward him, said:

"I'll attend to you in a minute, young man," then went on and finished his sentence. Then, turning to where Mr. Pitzer had been standing, said:

Where is the young man who asked me about amalgamation?"

Mr. Pitzer rose in all dignity, and in a tone of voice that seemed to say: "Watch me squelch him," replied, "I am the gentleman."

Mr. Lincoln, pointing his long, bony finger at him, and swinging his arm up and down, replied:

I never knew but one decent, respectable white man to marry a colored woman, and that was an ex-Democratic Vice-president from the State of Kentucky."

Mr. Pitzer turned, and with the exclamation of, “I never heard Colonel Richard M. Johnson so insulted be

fore,” made his way out of the hall amid the jeers and gibes of the crowd.

Whether Mr. Lincoln knew that Mr. Pitzer was from Kentucky or not I never knew, but all Democrats and Republicans alike felt that the rebuke was well merited.

After the meeting was over, Mr. Lincoln and friends were invited to the home of Judge Delahay, where Mr. Lincoln was entertained. We had refreshments, including wine, of which almost everyone, except Mr. Lincoln, partook.

The next day we escorted him back to the train, and to my dying day I shall never forget our parting. I was only twenty-two years old.

Mr. Lincoln bade each one good-bye, and gave each a hearty grasp of the hand. He bade me good-bye last, and as he took my hand in both of his, and stood there towering above me, he looked down into my eyes with that sad, kindly look of his, and said:

"My young friend, do not put an enemy in your mouth to steal away your brains."

At that moment I thought I never should again. And, oh, how that look haunted me in after years before I knew the better way, when in my moments of weakness I was tempted to put the intoxicating cup to my lips.

And though those loving eyes are closed in death, yet that look is never very far from me. It is with me now while I pen these lines; it is photographed on my heart, a blessed memory of our martyred President.