his smile has sunshine and warmth; and not the moonbeam's cold gleam: his conversation is homely but sincere his word is reliable: he gives no "word of promise to the ear but "broken to the hope:" you feel in his presence that here is a Man. Such was Abraham Lincoln-every inch a gentleman-not in form, but in substance.

In the Fall of 1857, he attended at the photograph gallery of Sam. Alschuler in Urbana, to have his picture taken : he was attired in a linen coat: doubtless the same one which he wore to Cincinnati just before, and which Stanton so rudely lampooned. The artist suggested that he should wear his black coat. Lincoln replied that he had left it home, and had none other there.

"Try my coat," said the accommodating artist: and the future emancipator was taken in a borrowed coat, with a velvet collar on, which shows plainly:-the picture being still in existence. On another occasion, earlier, a very poor artist induced him to sit and took a daguerreotype which resembled (not Lincoln but-say) the Wandering Jew: and exposed it in his outer show-case. Afterward, some of us were passing there, and the artist induced the Judge to sit, and when the Judge (who was quite vain) would get posed in a striking attitude, Alex. Harrison-a waggish Danville editor-would thrust out in his view this picture of Lincoln, and it was so comical that the portion of Davis lying below the belt would heave like a choppy sea: and we kept it up in spite of the Judge's remonstrances, and prevented his getting a picture. That made a case for the orgmathorial court and Alex. was tried and convicted that very night.

The most ridiculous case, our orgmathorial court had to try was of a lot of us, who went to Georgetown, in Vermillion County, one Saturday night on a political expedition: and chartered the second story of the hotel: then got a washpitcher full of bad whisky, and made a night of it. Next, (Sunday) morning we returned to Danville, and reaching a substantial farm house and finding the women folks at

church: were invited by the man, whom some of us knew, to inspect his house, and ate up half dozen (being all thero were) nice pies. I may add that Lincoln never had anything to do with such a scrape as that. We never would have dreamed of his being involved in any such: in fact in our orgmathorial courts, he was simply a spectator.

Occasionally on the circuit, we would be invited out to spend the evening, and of this sort of a thing, the Judge was very fond. He was very much at home in company, and had an excellent fund of "small talk," but Lincoln shirked all such invitations, all he could, and I have known of his sitting in the room all alone of an evening while the rest of us were at a ball or a party, and when we got back, our friend would be rolled up, fast asleep, in bed.

He would attend all entertainments, but really preferred going alone, and ensconcing himself in some nook or corner where he could see without being, himself, seen.

In the spring of 1855, John T. Stuart, who was his first law partner, his wife's cousin, and his neighbor, and Lincoln and myself were attending court at Bloomington, and all three staying at the Pike House, where we ate at the same table and went to court together, and, also, spent our leisure time together. One evening, a concert troupe was there, and when time came to attend, I went, and found Lincoln already there in one place and Stuart in another, and that was essentially Lincoln's style of doing such things.

This was the "Newhall" family of singers, of Jacksonville, one of whom was a Mrs. Hillis, a beautiful singer, and of her he said, "She is the only woman that ever appreciated me enough to pay me a compliment." "I thought," said Davis, "that you was an universal favorite with the fair sex." The "taverns" were ordinary, indeed, and frequently the court and bar were forced to spend the night at a farmhouse on the road. This was notably the case between Urbana and Danville, and between Charleston and Paris.

One night, when Judge Treat and four lawyers, including

Lincoln, were staying at a farmhouse east of Charleston, they were all put in two connecting rooms to sleep, in one of which was a fire, whose smoldering embers cast fitful flashes of light in the opaqueness of the two chambers. Judge Treat slept in the room with no fire, and getting up in his long nightgown in the night to visit the fireplace for something, awoke Gen. Linder, who slept in the room having the fire. The latter, being superstitious, thought a veritable ghost had entered the room, and he set up a series of shrieks, which Lincoln afterward avowed, chilled his blood to the extreme capillaries. Lincoln said, in describing the scene, that no one who had never heard such exclamations, could imagine the awful terror which the human voice could convey.

Arrived in town, the best room in the hotel was reserved for the judge and such lawyers as he would indicate, for single rooms were unknown on this circuit in Lincoln's day. At Danville, the ladies' parlor of the hotel was fitted up with a three-quarter bed for the Judge, and a double bed for Lincoln and myself. Artificial heat came from a wood fire on the hearth. There was a long dining-table, graced at the head by the Judge, who was flanked by the lawyers on each side. Then came jurymen, witnesses, prisoners out on bail, and the general public.

I well recollect a term of court at Urbana, where a prisoner, who was on trial for perjury, used to spend the evenings with us in the Judge's room; and of a term of court at Danville, where the prisoner, on trial for larceny, not only spent his evenings in our room, but took walks with us and ate in our immediate company,

Of dress, food, and the ordinary comforts and luxuries of this life, he was an incompetent judge. He could not discern between well and ill-cooked and served food. He did not know whether or not clothes fitted. He did not know when music was artistic or in bad taste. He did know, however, if it suited him, and he had a certain taste in that

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