Part 28 (1/2)

”What did you see in New Orleans?”

”Slavery--men sold in the market like cattle. Jasper, it made me long to have power--to control men and congresses and armies. If I only had the power, I would strike that inst.i.tution hard. I said that to John Hanks, and he thought that slavery wasn't in any danger from anything that I would be likely to do. It don't look so, does it, elder? I have one vote, and I shall always cast that against wrong as long as I live. That is my right to do.

”Elder, listen. I want to tell you what I saw there one day, in a slave-pen. I saw a handsome young girl, with white blood in her, brought forward by a slave-driver and handled and struck with a whip like a horse. I had heard of such things before, but it did not seem possible that they could be true. Then I saw the same girl sold at auction, and purchased by a man who carried the face of a brute. When she saw who had purchased her, she wrung her hands and cried, but she was helpless and hopeless; and I turned my face toward the sky and vowed to give my soul against a system like that. I'm a Free-Soiler in my heart, and I have faith that right is might, and that the right in this matter will one day prevail.”

Jasper remained with Mrs. Duncan for some days, and then formed a small school in the neighborhood, on the road to the town of Springfield, Illinois.

While teaching here he could not but notice the growth of Orfutt's clerk in the confidence of all the people. In all the games, he was chosen umpire or referee; in most cases of dispute he was consulted, and his judgment was followed. Long before he became a lawyer, people were accustomed to say, in a matter of casuistry:

”Take the case to Lincoln. He will give an opinion that will be fair.”

Amid this growing reputation for character, a test happened which showed how far this moral education and discipline had gone.

A certain Henry McHenry, a popular man, had planned a horse-race, and applied to young Lincoln to go upon the racing stand as judge.

”The people have confidence in you,” he said to Lincoln.

”I must not, and I will not do it,” said Lincoln. ”This custom of racing is wrong.”

The man showed him that he was under a certain obligation to act as judge on this occasion.

”I will do it,” he said; ”but be it known to all that I will never appear at a horse-race again; and were I to become a lawyer, I would never accept a case into which I could not take an honest conscience, no matter what the inducements might be.”

There was a school-master in New Salem who knew more than the honest clerk had been able to learn. This man, whose name was Graham, could teach grammar.

Abraham went to him one day, and said:

”I have a notion to study grammar.”

”If you ever expect to enter public life, you should do so,” said Mr.

Graham. ”Why not begin now and recite to me?”

”Where shall I secure a book?” asked the student of this hard college of the wood.

”There is a man named Vaner, who lives six miles from here, who has a grammar that I think he will be willing to sell.”

”If it be possible, I will secure it,” said Lincoln.

He made a long walk and purchased the book, and so made a grammar-school, a cla.s.s of one, of his leisure moments in Orfutt's store.

While he thus was studying grammar, the men whom he thirty or more years afterward made Cabinet ministers, generals, and diplomats were enjoying the easy experiences of schools, military academies, and colleges. Not one of them ever dreamed of such an experience of soul-building and mind-building as this; and some of them, had they met him then, would have felt that they could not have invited him to their homes. Orfutt's store and that one grammar were not the elms of Yale, or the campus of Harvard, or the great libraries or bowery streets of English Oxford or Cambridge. Yet here grew and developed a soul which was to tower above the age, and hold hands with the master spirits not only of the time but the ages.

Years pa.s.sed, and one day that sad-faced boy, who was always seeking to make others cheerful amid the clouds of his own gloom, stood before a grim council of war. He had determined to call into the field of arms five hundred thousand men.

”If you do that thing,” said a leader of the council, ”you can not expect to be elected again President of the United States.”

The dark form rose to the height of a giant and poured forth his soul, and he said: