secure the prize. Lincoln's fellow-members placed the bill for the removal of the capital in his hands. He was so kind and genial, and had so many stories for the entertainment of the members, that those who did not accept his political opinions were ready to listen to what he had to say in regard to the matter. His statements were so clear and arguments so conclusive that he brought about the passage of the bill.

The members from Sangamon and Morgan counties were greatly elated over what they had accomplished. At Macoupin's Point, where they passed a night on their homeward journey, they made the tavern ring with merriment - all except Lincoln, who was depressed in spirits.

"What is the trouble?" asked Mr. Butler.

"Well, I have no particular interest in having Springfield the capital," he said. "I am more concerned in getting some capital for myself. I have been trying to get started in life, but haven't made much headway. I am in debt, and all the money I have received at Vandalia will go to pay it."

"What do you intend to do for a living?" Butler asked.

"I would like to leave New Salem, make my home in Springfield, and study law.”

"Make my house your home as long as you please," said Mr. Butler, who comprehended how greatly they were indebted to him in securing the passage of the bill. (*)

A banquet was provided by the people of Springfield upon their arrival, at which the following sentiment complimenting Lincoln was given: "He has fulfilled the expectations of his friends and disappointed the hopes of his enemies."

It is a great point gained when a young man finds out for what he is best fitted in life. During the two sessions of the Legislature at Vandalia, Abraham Lincoln had met lawyers in debate. He 1837. saw their qualifications and natural ability, and had measured himself with them. He had been studying the few law-books which his friends had loaned him, and had been drifting almost insensibly towards the law as an occupation; but if he was to be a lawyer he must begin in earnest to prepare himself. He was twenty-eight years old. He was no longer postmaster; no longer surveyor for the Government. He was in poverty, with the unpaid notes signed by himself and Berry hanging over him. He was poorer than on that day when Nancy Miller made him a pair of jean trousers. Every village had its lawyer; in Springfield there were several gentlemen who were well educated.

What chance was there for him? Yet the decision was made calmly and resolutely.

The song birds were building their nests and the forest trees putting forth their leaves, when the young man who had secured the passage of the bill which made Springfield the capital entered the store of Joshua Speed and threw his saddle-bags upon the counter. He intended to make Springfield his home. Thenceforth he was to be a lawyer.

"I want to get a room, and must have a bedstead and some bedding. How much shall I have to pay?" he said.

Mr. Speed took up his slate and jotted down the items: the cost of the bedstead, bed-tick, sheets, blankets, and wash-basin. "Seventeen dollars," said the store-keeper.

"I have no doubt it is cheap, but I haven't the money to pay for the articles. If you can trust me till Christmas, and if I succeed in my experiment of being a lawyer, I will pay you then; if I fail, probably I never shall be able to pay you."

No ripple of laughter came from his lips, no smile illumined the countenance, and the sad eyes were looking far away. Mr. Speed was his friend, but never before had he seen him so dejected.

"I can fix things better than that," said the store-keeper. "I have a large room and a double bed up-stairs, and you are welcome to occupy the room and share the bed with me."

With his spare clothing and two law-books in his saddle-bags he ascends the stairs. "I am moved!" his exclamation. He comes down with a beaming face, the sadness all gone. (*)

Major John T. Stuart, who had been a fellow-soldier in the campaign against the Indians, was ready to receive him as a partner. We are not to conclude that a crowd of people came flocking to the office of Stuart & Lincoln with cases for the court; on the contrary, not many clients darkened their doors during the summer.

There came a gentleman, one day, who announced himself as agent of the Post-office Department at Washington.

"You were at one time, two or three years ago, postmaster at New Salem, I think?" said the stranger.

"Yes, I believe so."

"I think your account has never been settled.”

"No, it has not. I have been wondering why somebody did not come round to square up things. I have been keeping the money." He goes up-stairs, returns with an old stocking, and counts out half-dollars,

shillings, and sixpences-the exact amount due the United States. (') In his poverty it has been held sacred. Long ago it was written, “He that is faithful in that which is least is faithful also in much."

Events were taking place which set Abraham Lincoln thinking about the value of free institutions under a government of the people. A negro in St. Louis who had committed a terrible crime was taken from jail by a mob before he had been tried by the court, chained to a stake, and burned to death. After the poor wretch was dead, men and boys amused themselves by throwing stones at the skeleton. Rev. Elijah P. Lovejoy, editor of a religious paper, published an article in which he said that while the negro deserved to die, such conduct was no better than that of savages who burned prisoners of war at the stake, and who danced around their victims while the fire was doing its work. The men who burned the negro did not like such plain talk, and organized another mob, which entered the printing-office, destroyed the types, and threw the press into the river. Mr. Lovejoy left St. Louis and set up a new office in Alton, Ill., thinking the people of that town would respect the freedom of the Press; but when the new printing-press ar rived from Cincinnati, ruffians broke it in pieces and destroyed the types. Another press was purchased in Cincinnati. The mayor was notified, and a request made for its protection. He appointed Mr. Lovejoy and a large number of citizens special policemen to protect the property. The press arrived, and was put into a stone warehouse. "It is our determination to protect our property," said Mr. Lovejoy and the others, as they assembled in the building in the evening with their guns. "You are acting in accordance with the law," said the mayor. A howling mob beset the building and fired into it. Those within returned the fire, killing one and wounding another. "Burn them out!" shouted the ruffians, raising a ladder and kindling a fire on the roof. Mr. Lovejoy and others stepped out-of-doors to fire at those on the ladder; but several of the mob fired upon them, and he fell mortally wounded. The other citizens, knowing if they remained they would be burned to death, fled from the building, the mob firing at them as they ran. Having gained possession, they broke the press and threw it into the river. (*)

The men who committed the murder little thought that instead of suppressing agitation they were helping it on. In many places throughout the Northern States public meetings were held denouncing the outrage. Mr. Lovejoy had written articles against slavery, but men who were not in sympathy with the Abolitionists saw that the freedom of the Press was the great question to be considered.

The young men of Springfield formed a lyceum for the consideration of questions affecting the interests of the people. The discussions were carried on around the great fireplace in Mr. Speed's store, with the hickory logs blazing on the hearth, and the audience sitting on nailcasks and benches. Abraham Lincoln and Stephen A. Douglas were so able in argument and keen at repartee that the store could not accommodate those who came to hear them, and the meetings were held in

the Presbyterian church. They took up the affair at Alton. It came to the lot of Lincoln to deliver an address. He chose for his theme "The Perpetuation of Our Political Institutions." He was twenty-eight years of age. Seven years had passed since he entered the State driving an ox-team. He had pulled an oar on the Mississippi, navigated the Sangamon, been a soldier in the Black Hawk War, storekeeper, land-surveyor, and legislator. The people listened wonderingly to the opening sentences:

"In the great journal of things happening under the sun, the American people find our account running under date of the nineteenth century of the Christian era. We find ourselves in peaceful possession of the fairest portion of the earth as regards extent of territory, fertility of soil, and salubrity of climate. We find ourselves under the government of a system of political institutions conducing more essentially to the ends of civil

and religious liberty than any of which the history of former times tells us. We find ourselves the legal inheritors of these fundamental blessings. We toiled not in the acquirement or the establishment of them; they are a legacy bequeathed to us by a once hardy, brave, and patriotic, but now lamented and departed, race of ancestors."

The words that fall from his lips are the utterances of a statesman-of one who is looking into the future, who comprehends in some degree the mighty forces that are shaping the future of the country. He speaks of the action of the mob which a few weeks before had burned a negro in St. Louis, and of the peril of the country. What sentences are these!

"There is no grievance that is a fit object of redress by mob law.

"Many great and good men, sufficiently qualified for any task they should undertake, may ever be found whose ambition would aspire to nothing but a seat in Congress, a gubernatorial or a presidential chair; but such belong not to the family of the lion or the brood of the eagle. What! Think you these places would satisfy an Alexander, a Cæsar, or a Napoleon? Never!

"Towering genius disdains a beaten path. It seeks regions hitherto unexplored. It does not add story to story upon the monuments of fame erected to the memory of others. It denies that it is glory enough to serve under any chief. It scorns to tread in the footsteps of any predecessor, however illustrious. It thirsts and burns for distinction, and, if possible, will have it, whether at the expense of emancipating slaves or enslaving free men. Is it unreasonable, then, to expect that some man possessed with the loftiest genius, coupled with ambition sufficient to push it to its utmost stretch, will at some time spring up among us? And when such an one does, it will require the people to be united, attached to the Government and laws, and generally intelligent, to successfully frustrate the design." (")

Is this prophecy? Is there some unseen intelligence of another realm whispering to him of the part he is to play in the drama of his country's history? Why did he, six years before, raise his right hand to heaven, as he came from the heart-rending scene in the slave-market of New Orleans, swear a solemn oath that, if the opportunity ever came to him, he would hit the institution of slavery a staggering blow? Is it that his own spirit is already thirsting and burning for the emancipation of 3,000,000 slaves? Interpret the words as we may, they will ever stand as remarkable utterances-seemingly prophetic when read in connection with the events of his subsequent life.

1838.

In the election of members for the Legislature, Mr. Lincoln was again a candidate. His opponent, Colonel Taylor, said the Whig party was composed of aristocrats, who wore broadcloth and rode in fine carriages, whereas the Democrats were poor men, who worked hard to get a living. The rich Whigs lived in luxurious homes, while the Democrats were found in log-cabins.