soon, or I'll have a twenty years' agitation in Illinois, until the governor does have a legal and constitutional right to do something in the premises."

He and his partner immediately sent money of their own to a New Orleans correspondent, who procured the negro and returned him to his mother.

A person applied to Colonel E. D. Baker, who afterwards became United States Senator from Oregon, for aid in behalf of a fugitive slave.

"I'm sorry that I cannot serve you," Colonel Baker replied; "I should be glad to help the fugitive, but, as a political man, I cannot afford it."

The applicant then sought the advice of an ardent anti-slavery friend, who said :

"Go to Lincoln; he's not afraid of an unpopular case. When I go for a lawyer to defend an arrested fugitive slave other lawyers will refuse me, but if Mr. Lincoln is at home, he will always take my case."

Judge Treat furnishes the following :—

"A case being called for hearing in the court, Mr. Lincoln stated that he appeared for the appellant, and was ready to proceed with the argument. He then said: 'This is the first case I ever had in this court" [it was just after he was admitted to practice in the Circuit Court of the United States, December 3rd, 1839], “and I have therefore examined it with great care. As the court will perceive, by looking at the abstract of the record, the only question in the case is one of authority. I have not been able to find any authority to sustain my side of the case, but I have found several cases directly in point on the other side. I will now give these cases, and then submit the case.'

One lawyer, who could not understand that the true purpose of a court is to "establish justice," remarked, "The fellow is crazy."

Once, is a closely-contested civil suit, he found himself upon the wrong side of the case. His client had misrepresented the case, being "a slippery fellow." Lincoln succeeded in proving an account for his client, when the opposing attorney then "proved a receipt covering the entire cause of action." By the time he was through Lincoln had disappeared from the courtroom. The court sent to the hotel for him. "Tell the Judge," said Lincoln, " that I can't come: my hands are dirty, and I came over to clean them."

In the celebrated Patterson trial, a case of murder, Lincoln and Swett were counsel for the accused. After hearing the testimony, Lincoln was satisfied that the accused was guilty, and calling his colleague into another room, he said,

"Swett, the man is guilty."

"No doubt about that," Swett replied.

"And you must defend him; I can't."

Swett promised to do it, and he did it so well that he saved the guilty man from justice. They received a thousand dollars for services; but Lincoln declined to take a cent of it.

At another time he was defending a man indicted for larceny; and, being satisfied by the evidence that the accused was guilty, he called aside his colleagues, Parks and Young, and said: "He is guilty. If you can say anything for him, do it; I can't. If I attempt, the jury will see that I think he is guilty, and convict him, of course."

He conducted a suit against a railroad company, and damages were awarded to him. The railroad company proved, and the court allowed, a certain offset; and when the court was footing the amount, Lincoln arose and stated that his opponents had not proved all that was justly due them in offset, and proceeded to prove

and allow a further offset against his client. His purpose was to establish "exact justice." Sometimes, however, his sympathy for a poor fellow who was in danger of the penitentiary or gallows caused him to overlook "exact justice," as we have seen.

A woman called upon him to secure his services to prosecute a real-estate claim; and she put a cheque for two hundred and fifty dollars into his hand as a retaining fee.

"I will look the case over, and see what can be done," said Mr. Lincoln. "You may call to-morrow."

The woman called as requested on the next day. “I am obliged to say that there is not a peg on which to hang your claim,” Mr. Lincoln said to her.

"How so?" she inquired, with not a little disappointment.

He explained the case to her satisfaction, and she started to go.

"Wait a minute," he urged, fumbling in his pocket; "here is the cheque you left with me."

"But, Mr. Lincoln, that belongs to you; you have earned it," she answered.

"No, no, no!" responded Mr. Lincoln; "that would not be right. I can't take pay for doing my duty." And he insisted that she should take the cheque.

The testimony of his legal associates, at this point, is interesting. Mr. Gillespie says: "Mr. Lincoln's love of justice and fair play was his predominating trait. I have often listened to him when I thought he would state his case out of court. It was not in his nature to assume, or to attempt to bolster up, a false position. He would abandon his case first. He did so in the case of Buckmaster for the use of Denham vs. Beenes and Arthur, in our Supreme Court, in which I happened

to be opposed to him. Another gentleman, less fastidious, took Mr. Lincoln's place, and gained the case."

S. C. Parks, Esq., says: "I have often said, that for a man who was for a quarter of a century both a lawyer and politician, he was the most honest man I ever knew. He was not only morally honest, but intellectually so He could not reason falsely; if he attempted it he failed. In politics he never would try to mislead. At the bar, when he found he was wrong, he was the weakest lawyer I ever saw."

His old friend, Jack Armstrong, of New Salem, whose kind, good wife darned his stockings, made his shirts, and "got him something to eat while he rocked the baby," died not long after Lincoln settled in Springfield. The baby whom he rocked had grown into a stout but profligate young man of twenty-two years,-William D. Armstrong, and he was arrested for murder. The circumstances were as follows:-At a camp meeting in Mason County several fast young men became intoxicated, and then engaged in a "free fight," in which one Metzgar was killed. Armstrong and James H. Norris were charged with the murder. Norris was "tried in Mason County, convicted of manslaughter, and sentenced to the penitentiary for the term of eight years."

"Aunt Hannah," as Lincoln used to call his old benefactress, was plunged into terrible sorrow for her misguided son. She scarcely knew what to do. But, in her great grief, she recalled one who would come to her aid if possible—“the noble, good Abe," who rocked her Billy when he was a baby in the cradle. She sat down and wrote to Lincoln, telling him of her anguish, and beseeching him to help her boy if possible. The appeal brought tears to Lincoln's eyes, and enlisted his whole soul to save the accused for the sake of his mother. Now was the time for him to requite the many kindnesses

"Aunt Hannah" showed him under her humble roof. He sat down and wrote to her an affirmative answer, at the same time encouraging her to hope for the best, and asking her to come to Springfield at once. pledged his services also gratuitously.

He

Lincoln's letter was like a promise from the skies to "Aunt Hannah." Her almost broken heart took courage, and away she hastened to Springfield, the benefactress seeking a benefactor in the once poor boy she helped in her humble abode.

"Aunt Hannah" believed that her boy was not guilty of murder-that the fatal blow was not struck by him, but by another-that others sought to fasten the crime upon him because of his bad reputation. At the close of the interview Lincoln was of the same opinion, or, at least, thought there was no positive evidence that her son was the murderer. His heart was so thoroughly moved for the old lady that he resolved to save her boy from the gallows if possible. The excitement was intense, and everybody seemed willing to believe that Armstrong killed Metzgar. Lincoln saw that it would be well-nigh impossible to secure an impartial jury in these circumstances, and he said to Mrs. Armstrong,

"We must have the case put off if possible, until the excitement dies away."

"And let my son lie in prison all the while," Mrs. Armstrong answered, as if horrified by the thought that he should be incarcerated so long.

"There is no other alternative. Better that than to be condemned and executed in advance," Lincoln rejoined calmly.

"True, very true; but I'm impatient to see him free again."

"That is not strange at all, but I am satisfied that