ernor signed the bill. The sheriff put Miss Crandall in jail—into a cell from which a man accused of murdering his wife had just been taken. Her alleged crime was teaching colored children. There were men on the jury who did not think that she had committed any crime, and she was set at liberty. Once more the school began, which made some of the people of Canterbury so angry that they set her house on fire, but she extinguished the flames. A mob threw stones through the windows and broke down the doors, so that she could no longer keep school.

The people of Canterbury, however, were not any more prejudiced against the colored people than those living in other towns throughout the Northern States. In Pittsfield, N. H., the Rev. Mr. Storrs was offering a prayer at an antislavery meeting, when the sheriff entered the pulpit and dragged him down the steps and out-of-doors. He had committed no crime, and was doing what he had a right to do under the constitution and laws of the State. James G. Birney, who lived in Kentucky, was a lawyer and also a minister, arguing cases in court during the week and preaching on Sunday. He was a slave-holder, but did not think it right to hold slaves, and so moved to Ohio and gave his slaves their freedom. He established the "Philanthropist," a newspaper which advocated the abolition of slavery. It so stirred up the people of Cincinnati that they held a public meeting. Jacob Bennett, one of the judges of the Superior Court and Senator in Congress, presided. It was not a meeting of ruffians, but of men who called themselves gentlemen. Many of them, doubtless, thought they were doing right, and what would be for the welfare of the community, by going to the office of the "Philanthropist" and throwing the type into the street and the printing-press into the river. They tried to find Mr. Birney, with the intention of giving him a coat of tar and feathers. Having destroyed the printing-office, they broke the windows and doors of the houses occupied by colored people; not that the negroes had done anything wrong, but because they were negroes.

The colored people of Philadelphia fared worse than those in Cincinnati. A mob killed one, beat others with clubs, treated women and girls indecently, broke down the doors and smashed the windows of fifty-four houses, and threw the furniture into the street, just because they had African blood in their veins.

Some of the women of Boston formed an antislavery society. The young printer, Mr. Garrison, was present at one of their meetings. Mary Parker was reading a chapter in the Bible and offering prayer

when a mob gathered about the building. The mayor of the city, Mr. Lyman, rushed in. "I entreat you to dissolve the meeting," he said. "We demand protection," the reply. "I cannot protect you." The mob seized Garrison, put a rope about his neck, and dragged him into the street. "Hang him!" they shouted. But the police hustled him

WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON.

into a carriage and took him to the jail to save him from the excited crowd; not altogether from men whose homes were in narrow alleys, but who had ships on the sea bringing cotton from Southern cities-men who went from their counting-rooms to well-furnished houses, and who sat in cushioned pews on Sunday.

While this was going on in Boston, another mob was breaking up a meeting in Philadelphia and burning the building in which it was held. Many of the ministers in the Northern States, instead of being foremost in joining the antislavery societies, thought that slavery was sanctioned by the Bible, and was ordained for the welfare of the human race. We are to keep in mind the fact that Southern and Central Illinois was largely settled by people from Kentucky; that Abraham Lincoln was from that State, as were all his fellow-members in the Legislature from Sangamon County. By the ordinance of 1787, passed by Congress, slavery had been prohibited in the North-west Territory, which included Illinois; but in 1823 an amendment to the Constitution admitting slavery had been submitted to the people, which was rejected by a majority of only 1800 votes in a total of nearly 11,000.

On the last day of the session of 1836 a member of the Legislature introduced a series of resolutions which deprecated any discussion of slavery by the people, and which bitterly denounced the Abolitionists. Abraham Lincoln was very far from being an Abolitionist, but he did not like the spirit of the resolutions. He believed that the people had a right to discuss any question. He thought the institution of slavery was founded on injustice; that it was not good for any community; that Congress had the right to abolish it in the District of Columbia and in the Territories, but ought not to exercise the right except when the people in the District and Territories asked for its abolition. He wrote a protest against the resolutions, but could get only Dan Stone

to sign it. His Whig friends were fearful that if they were to sign they might lose some votes when the next election came round. The protest was Abraham Lincoln's first public expression in regard to slavery.

It was a time when everybody was intending to get rich-the period of grand schemes and great expectations. The multiplying of steamboats on the rivers and lakes, the opening of the Erie Canal, the fertility of the land in Illinois, together with other things, brought a great many people into the State. The prairies were dotted with whitetopped wagons of emigrants; towns and villages were springing up; people who bought land from the Government and divided it into village lots expected to obtain several hundred dollars for an acre; those who obtained their farms from the Government for $1.25 per acre expected that they would erelong be worth $10 or $15 per acre. Chicago, which in 1830 was only a little collection of houses, had become an important point. Vessels were coming and going. A canal which was to connect Lake Michigan with the Illinois River had been surveyed, and the Legislature, of which Abraham Lincoln was a member, had appropriated $500,000 to carry on the construction. So much land was taken by settlers that there was a surplus of more than $40,000,000 in the Treasury of the United States. The land-offices were crowded with people-many of whom were not settlers-paying for land which was rapidly to increase in value. Everybody wanted railroads constructed. Each member had his pet scheme. The people of Alton wanted roads leading northward and eastward from that town, which would make it the rival of St. Louis. The men who were mining lead at Galena wanted a road which would run the entire length of that State to the Ohio River. There were to be roads east and west, north and south-in all, more than 1400 miles. No surveys had been made; neither did any one make an estimate of their cost; but the Legislature voted $8,000,000 for the various schemes, and $4,000,000 to help on the canal, besides $200,000 to improve the rivers. No one thought of raising the money by taxation. It was said it could be had by the sale of bonds to people in the Eastern States. The State would have no difficulty in raising money to pay the interest on the bonds, which the rich men in New York and across the Atlantic would be eager to purchase. Such the reasoning. Towns were laid out, which, it was believed, would soon become bustling cities.

The members from Sangamon County determined to make Springfield the capital of the State. Other towns were equally determined to

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.

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'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,