the war, compiled one of the fullest of these collections and one that is perhaps as reliable as any. I own a copy of this book which once was the property of Isaac N. Arnold. Upon its flyleaf Mr. Arnold wrote that in his judgment about half of these stories were probably stories that Lincoln had actually told. It is quite certain that very many of the anecdotes attributed to him are in no proper sense his.

The question has been hotly debated whether Lincoln ever told immodest stories. The answer is that in the days when he was riding the circuit, his taste in the matter of stories was on a level with that of the other lawyers of the period. His growth into an appreciation of higher and finer things was gradual; and was the more marked in that period of his spiritual evolution which came with the war and Lincoln's heavy responsibilities.

It is almost hopeless to attempt to convey the essence of a joke through the printed page alone. The aptness of Lincoln's humor depended upon the circumstances, and also upon Lincoln's own tone and manner. These we can not adequately reproduce. A few of the better attested of Lincoln's stories are necessary to a book like this, but only distantly can they suggest the meaning which Lincoln and his associates found in them.

Early in January, 1861, Colonel Alexander K. McClure received a telegram from President-elect Lincoln, asking McClure to visit him at Springfield. Colonel McClure described his disappointment at first sight of Lincoln in these words:

"I went directly from the depot to Lincoln's house and rang the bell, which was answered by Lincoln himself opening the door. I doubt whether I wholly concealed my disappointment at meeting him.

"Tall, gaunt, ungainly, ill clad, with a homeliness of manner that was unique in itself, I confess that my heart sank within me as I remembered that this was the man chosen by a great nation to become its ruler in the gravest period of its history.

"I remember his dress as if it were but yesterday-snuff-col

ored and slouchy pantaloons, open black vest, held by a few brass buttons; straight or evening dress-coat, with tightly fitting sleeves to exaggerate his long, bony arms, and all supplemented by an awkwardness that was uncommon among men of intelligence.

"Such was the picture I met in the person of Abraham Lincoln. We sat down in his plainly furnished parlor, and were uninterrupted during the nearly four hours that I remained with him, and little by little, as his earnestness, sincerity and candor were developed in conversation, I forgot all the grotesque qualities which so confounded me when I first greeted him."

In Lincoln as in other strong men, there was marked individuality. Lincoln recognized this quality in other men, and he knew better than to expect great strength in any man without some counterbalancing weakness. As Lincoln was on his way to Washington to make his last desperate effort to secure appointment as land commissioner, he rode through Indiana on a stage. As they were approaching Indianapolis, Lincoln had as traveling companion an old Kentuckian who was returning from Missouri. Lincoln excited the old gentleman's surprise by refusing to accept either of tobacco or French brandy.

When they separated that afternoon, the Kentuckian to take another stage bound for Louisville, he shook hands warmly with Lincoln, and said, good-humoredly:

"See here, stranger, you're a clever but strange companion. I may never see you again, and I don't want to offend you, but I want to say this: My experience has taught me that a man who has no vices has very few virtues. Good day."

Few enough were the men who, having any little whim to gratify, considered the President too busy a man to serve their interests. To a curiosity-seeker who desired a permit to pass the lines to visit the field of Bull Run, after the first battle, Lincoln made the following reply: "A man in Cortlandt County

raised a porker of such unusual size that strangers went out of their way to see it.

"One of them the other day met the old gentleman and inquired about the animal.

"'Wall, yes,' the old fellow said, 'I've got such a critter, mi'ty big un; but I guess I'll have to charge you about a shillin' for lookin' at him.'

"The stranger looked at the old man for a minute or so, pulled out the desired coin, handed it to him and started to go off. 'Hold on,' said the other, 'don't you want to see the hog?'

"No,' said the stranger; 'I have seen as big a hog as I want to see!'"

An astonishing number of people wanted passes to the South. Some of these were mere curiosity-seekers. Some were people who professed to be able to exert influence that would assist in progress toward peace. Many were Confederate spies, who, on pretext of sickness in the family or other dire necessity, wanted liberty to pass through the Union into the Confederate lines. These requests were of course an embarrassment, but many such were made.

A man called upon the president one day and solicited a pass for Richmond.

"Well," said the president, "I would be very happy to oblige, if my passes were respected; but the fact is, sir, I have, within the past two years, given passes to two hundred and fifty thousand men to go to Richmond, and not one has got there yet."

The applicant quietly and respectfully withdrew.

Lincoln often surprised applicants for office by an apparently irrelevant story, and he sometimes cut the knot of a complicated tangle in a thoroughly characteristic and unexpected way.

A commissioner to the Hawaiian Islands was to be appointed, and eight applicants had filed their papers, when a delegation appeared at the White House on behalf of a ninth. Not only