Wayne Whipple 
 
Class 1 
 
 Book 
 
 Goffiiigtit}^". 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSrr. 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
^ THE 
 HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 THE SOUL OF THE MAN AS 
 
 REVEALED IN STORY 
 
 AND ANECDOTE 
 
 BY 
 
 WAYNE WHIPPLE 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE STORY LIFE OF 
 WASHINGTON," ETC. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 
 GEORGE W. JACOBS & COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1915. BY GEORGE W. JACOBS & COMPANY. 
 PUBLISHED AUGUST. 1915 
 
 
 All rights reserved 
 Printed in U. S. A. 
 
 AUG -6 1915 
 
 OCI.A40Gllil6 V 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 THE MOTHER-HEART 
 
 Over a hundred years ago a little 
 heart began to beat in a log hovel in the 
 backwoods of Kentucky — a heart that 
 was to grow big and swell with the 
 hopes and throb with the griefs of the 
 nation and of the whole world. But 
 its mother 
 
 **Gave US Lincoln and never knew." 
 
 It is doubtful if poor Tom Lincoln's 
 wife ever raised her eyes in faith — as 
 many a mother does hope against hope 
 — that her son might become the first 
 man in the neighborhood or nation. 
 There seemed to be nothing ahead in 
 the hard, barren lot of her little baby 
 7 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 boy for Nancy Hanks Lincoln to keep 
 and ponder in her heart. Nancy was, 
 "according to her hghts," a God-fear- 
 ing woman. She would have been full 
 content to have this baby grow up a 
 good boy, kind to his father and mother 
 and sister Sarah, and good to their 
 backwoods neighbors, so few and far 
 between. 
 
 Thomas Lincoln, the child's father, 
 was a tough, hearty, well-meaning, 
 shiftless, thriftless man whom his wife 
 had taught, after their marriage, to 
 scrawl his own name. 
 
 In their crude, primitive way, Tom 
 and Nancy Lincoln were religious. 
 They went to camp-meeting together 
 when pioneer preachers like Peter 
 Cart Wright held forth with such vim 
 and power that sinners, "under convic- 
 tion," writhed on the ground and 
 finally came out shouting victory over 
 sin. Both the Lincoln baby's parents 
 8 
 
THE MOTHER-HEART 
 
 had "got the power" more than once. 
 Thomas's rehgion was so practical that 
 Dennis Hanks, a relative of his wife, 
 said of him: 
 
 "Tom thought a heap o' Nancy, an' 
 he was as good to her as he knowed how. 
 He didn't drink or swear or play cyards 
 or fight — an' them was drinkin', cussin', 
 quarrelsome days. Tom was popy- 
 lar, an' he could lick a bully if he had 
 to." 
 
 Both the Lincoln boy's parents be- 
 lieved in and talked about the heart 
 life. They had heard all about "ex- 
 perimental religion" at camp-meeting. 
 So, whatever else Abraham Lincoln 
 may have lacked in his backwoods life, 
 he did have true heart culture. His 
 mother, in her humble way, builded bet- 
 ter than she knew — a palace instead of 
 the comfortable cabin she longed for all 
 her sad, disappointed days and nights, 
 by teaching little Abe to be good and 
 9 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 kind and true. She would have been 
 happy if she could have known that her 
 son would gi'ow to be a local exhorter 
 or a pioneer preacher. Yet out of her 
 ignorance and privations she gave her 
 child the master-key to the grandest life 
 of practical religion ever worked out in j 
 a human career. 
 
 Even the dull, hard days of Lincoln's 
 childhood radiated with the warmth of 
 his boyish heart. He was happy with 
 his sister, two years older, and Sarah 
 was always proud of her brother. 
 Their mother used to read to them in 
 the lonely twilight hours from the Bible, 
 *'The Pilgrim's Progress," and others 
 of the few books to be had in the back- 
 woods of Kentucky in those days. 
 
 Little Abe, only five or six years old, 
 would work hard and long, chopping, 
 tugging and lugging home spicewood 
 branches that would make the firelight 
 brighter and give out a pleasant smell 
 10 
 
THE MOTHER-HEART 
 
 while their mother read to them. The 
 brightness and sweetness of those early 
 memories remained with Lincoln al- 
 ways. 
 
 When he was only nine, a year or so 
 after the removal of the Lincoln fam- 
 ily to Indiana, he came to know the 
 utter desolation of home without a 
 mother. Nancy Lincoln was taken 
 with a strange and terrible disease 
 which smote the early settlers. They 
 called it "the milk-sick" because it at- 
 tacked the cattle also. The mother 
 knew at once that she was doomed to 
 die. Calling Sarah and Abraham to 
 the side of her rough bed of poles, bark 
 and leaves, she made them promise to 
 be good to each other and take care of 
 their poor father. 
 
 Little Abe helped the heartbroken 
 Tom saw the rough boards out of trees 
 to make a rude coffin, and they buried 
 11 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 the body of the good wife and mother 
 "without benefit of clergy." Cousin 
 Dennis Hanks related of little Abe: 
 
 ''Sometimes he would write with a 
 piece of charcoal on the point of a burnt 
 stick, on the fence or floor. We got a 
 little paper at the coimtry town and I 
 made ink out of blackberry briar root 
 and a little copperas in it. I made his 
 first pen out of a turkey-buzzard 
 feather. Sometimes he would write 
 with a stick in the white sand down by 
 the crick bank, and leave it till the 
 waves would blot it out." 
 
 It is said that the first letter the boy 
 ever wrote was to beseech old "Parson" 
 Elkin, who had known their mother in 
 their "old Kentucky home," to come 
 and preach a sermon over his mother's 
 grass-grown grave in the edge of the 
 clearing. This the good old man did 
 the following summer. No wonder the 
 12 
 
THE MOTHER-HEART 
 
 thoughtful, grateful little boy held such 
 a mother in loving remembrance, ex- 
 claiming fervently to a friend long 
 afterward : 
 
 "All I am or hope to be I owe to my 
 sainted mother!" 
 
 13 
 
THE HEART IN THE HOME 
 
 Thomas Lincoln, the widower, was 
 lonely, restless and moody. All that 
 two children of nine and eleven could 
 do, Abraham and Sarah did to comfort 
 and cheer their forlorn father. But he 
 disappeared one day and was gone sev- 
 eral weeks, — on a longer hunting trip 
 than usual, the children thought. 
 When he returned he brought a new 
 mother with three children of her own. 
 The Lincoln boy soon learned to love 
 his stepmother, who was not long in 
 finding out that *'Abe was no common 
 boy." Many years later the second 
 Mrs. Lincoln said of her illustrious 
 stepson: 
 
 **I can say what scarcely one mother 
 in a thousand can say — Abe never gave 
 14 
 
THE HEART IN THE HOME 
 
 me a cross word or look, and never re- 
 fused, in fact or appearance, to do any- 
 thing I asked liiin. I had a son John, 
 who was raised with Abe. Both were 
 good boys, but I must say, both being 
 now dead, that Abe was the best boy 
 I ever saw or expect to see." 
 
 Mrs. Sarah Lincohi had good reason 
 to speak in the highest praise of young 
 Abraham's devotion. He never ceased 
 to be grateful for her sympathy and 
 kindness to him, as a boy, encom'aging 
 him to read and study, and persuading 
 his father to let him go to school a few 
 weeks now and then. Tom Lincoln 
 and the rough neighbors, in their igno- 
 rance, thought Abe took to reading 
 books only to shirk work. His father 
 thought his longing to go to school was 
 a sign of "pure laziness." So he took 
 him out of school, when he allowed him 
 to go at all, for the smallest reasons. 
 Strong as Abe was, and work as hard 
 15 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 as he might, he could never earn more 
 than twenty-five or thirty cents a day. 
 This pitiful pay his father always took 
 and kept. 
 
 Most youths would have left home in 
 disgust, but Abraham stood by, help- 
 ing heroically and making his step- 
 mother's hard life with his shiftless 
 father comfortable and even cheer- 
 ful. 
 
 Little a^ he was permitted to go to 
 school there are many stories told of 
 Abe Lincoln's doings there — not mis- 
 chievous acts, nor even prodigies of 
 learning, but deeds of kindness to 
 everybody. His first "composition" 
 was an earnest appeal against cruelty 
 to animals. 
 
 He was always the champion of the 
 helpless, no matter how humble the ob- 
 ject of any ill-treatment might be. 
 One day he came and caught a group 
 16 
 
THE HEART IN THE HOME 
 
 of mischievous boys putting live coals 
 on a poor mud-turtle's back. The lads, 
 and several girl friends, laughed to see 
 the turtle moving slowly and aimlessly 
 about in its surprise and misery. 
 When Abe Lincoln saw what was going 
 on he dashed into the group in a frenzy 
 of wrath, snatched the shingle from the 
 ringleader's hand, dashed the burning 
 coals off the poor turtle's back, then be- 
 gan beating the boys with the thin 
 board. When he had scattered them 
 right and left, according to one of the 
 girls who witnessed the sudden scene, 
 "he preached against such cruelty" and, 
 with angry tears in his deep gray eyes, 
 told the snickering offenders that a ter- 
 rapin's or "an ant's life is as sweet to 
 it as ours is to us." 
 
 Abraham's heart ached for the un- 
 fortunate, especially when others held 
 aloof and said they deserved their lot. 
 17 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 Late one cold night he, with several 
 cronies, found a man they knew lying 
 drunk in the freezing mud beside the 
 road. 
 
 "He has made his bed," said the other 
 fellows, "now let him lie in it." 
 
 But to Abe this seemed monstrous. 
 The rest went on to their homes and 
 left him to his thankless task. The 
 poor drunkard might freeze to death if 
 left as he was. But he was big and 
 heavy — a dead weight. One of his 
 friends described this act of mercy: 
 
 "Abe, seeing he was to have no help, 
 bent his mighty frame, and, taking the 
 big man in his long arms, carried him 
 a great distance to Dennis Hanks's 
 cabin. There he built a fire, warmed, 
 and rubbed, and nursed him through 
 the entire night. The man often told 
 John Hanks that it was *mighty clever 
 in Abe to tote me to a warm fire that 
 cold night,' and was very sure that 
 18 
 
THE HEART IN THE HOME 
 
 Abe's strength and benevolence had 
 saved his hfe." 
 
 He could not see any one in need of 
 help without doing all he could to ren- 
 der aid. They used to laugh about his 
 appearing just in time (he was not in 
 school then) to prompt Kate Robey, 
 the "pretty girl" of the place, whom they 
 said Abe was "sweet on." The word 
 was "defied." The class had spelled it 
 every way but the right way and 
 Schoolmaster Crawford was so indig- 
 nant with them all that he had an- 
 nounced that if some one did not spell 
 the word right he would keep all of 
 them in after school. Miss Robey, the 
 last in the class, was essaying the word, 
 slowly feeling her way along: "d-e-f-" 
 she had said and was about to add a 
 hesitant "y," when, as she herself re- 
 lated — -"I saw Lincoln at the window; 
 he had his finger in his eye and a smile 
 on his face ; I immediately took the hint 
 19 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 that I must change the letter y into an 
 L Hence I spelled the word — the class 
 let out. I felt grateful to Lincohi for 
 this simple thing." 
 
 Schoolmaster Crawford was not the 
 Crawford who lent Abe the copy of 
 Weems's "Life of Washington" which 
 he read nearly all night before the blaz- 
 ing fire, then went to bed, laying it in 
 a chink in the mortar between the logs 
 beside his humble bed, to resume the 
 reading as soon as it was hght enough. 
 A storm came up in the night and the 
 book was soaked with rain and muddy 
 mortar. This Mr. Crawford, known 
 to the neighbors as "Old Blue-Nose," 
 made young Lincoln buy the old book 
 at a high price and "pull fodder" three 
 days at twenty-five cents a day to pay 
 for it! 
 
 Abe afterward worked for this hard 
 master, as a farm hand, while his sister 
 20 
 
THE HEART IN THE HOME 
 
 Sarah was there. A friend wrote of 
 young Lincoki's employment at Jo- 
 siah Crawford's: "Abe was reconciled 
 to his situation in this family by the 
 presence of his sister, and the oppor- 
 tunity it gave him of being in the com- 
 pany of Mrs. Crawford, for whom he 
 had a genuine attachment." 
 
 This lady told many stories of Lin- 
 
 /coln's sojourn under her roof. "Abe 
 
 was a sensitive lad, never coming where 
 
 he was not wanted." . . . "He was 
 
 tender and kind," like his sister, who 
 
 was at the same time her maid-of-all- 
 
 , work. Mrs. Crawford said also that 
 
 j"he always lifted his hat and bowed 
 
 (when he made his appearance." And 
 
 she related how, when he "went to see 
 
 the girls," he brought in the biggest 
 
 backlog and made the brightest fire; 
 
 and how the young people, sitting 
 
 around it, watching the way the sparks 
 
 flew, told their fortunes. He helped 
 
 21 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 pare apples, shell corn and crack 
 nuts. 
 
 The sports he preferred were those 
 that brought men together, the spelhng- 
 school, the husking bee, the "raising"; 
 of all these he was the hfe by his wit, 
 his stories, his good nature, his dog- 
 gerel verses, his practical jokes, and by 
 a rough kind of politeness. 
 
 The other boys went hunting, of 
 course. But young Lincoln's sympa- 
 thy for the helpless creatures made him 
 a poor sjDortsman. He could not kill 
 or maim the humblest of God's crea- 
 tures. In one of his shoii; autobiogra- 
 phies he referred to himself in the third 
 person : 
 
 "A few days before the completion 
 of his eighth year, in the absence of his 
 father, a flock of wild turkeys ap- 
 proached the new log cabin ; and Abra- 
 ham, standing inside, shot through a 
 22 
 
THE HEART IN THE HOME 
 
 crack and killed one of them. He has 
 never since pulled the trigger on any 
 larger game." 
 
 This was when scruples about inflict- 
 ing suffering on the lower orders of 
 creation were thought to be a sickly sort 
 of sentimentalism. But young Lin- 
 coln's heart could never see suffering 
 without yearning to bring relief. 
 
 While the family were moving to 
 Illinois they found that, after their 
 heavy wagon, drawn by two yoke of 
 oxen, had crossed an ice-filled stream, 
 they had left a little dog on the other 
 side. It was late; to turn back with 
 their clumsy team and lumbering wagon 
 was out of the question. Night was 
 coming on. The rest of the migrating 
 family were in favor of going on and 
 leaving "the little nuisance" to his fate. 
 But Abe could see the dog running up 
 and down the opposite bank, yelping in 
 23 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 distress. Long afterward, describing 
 this incident. President Lincoln said: 
 *'I could not bear the idea of aban- 
 doning even a dog. Pulling off shoes 
 and socks, I waded across the stream, 
 and triumphantly returned with the 
 shivering animal under my arm. His 
 frantic leaps of joy and other evidences 
 of a dog's gratitude amply repaid me 
 for all the exposure I had undergone." 
 
 Abraham made thirty dollars ped- 
 dling "notions" on their way from In- 
 diana to Illinois. Although he had 
 "turned twenty-one" on the way, he 
 seems to have given that precious sum 
 — amounting to much more in those 
 days than now — to make his father, who 
 had always kept his meager earnings, 
 and his stepmother more comfortable. 
 He would not leave them, though the 
 stepmother's children were able and 
 should have provided for her, until he 
 24 
 
THE HEART IN THE HOME 
 
 and John Hanks had helped raise a 
 commodious cabin, cleared and plowed 
 fifteen acres around it, and fenced it in 
 with the black walnut rails which after- 
 wards became world-famous. It was a 
 few of those historic fence rails that 
 pried Abraham Lincoln into the presi- 
 dency of the United States. Of 
 course, nothing was farther than the 
 presidency from his thoughts while he 
 was doing his utmost to help the father 
 who had always been mean to him, called 
 him lazy, and sneered at his desire to 
 "get an eddication." 
 
 After settling his f amilj^ in comfort 
 young Lincoln hovered near, splitting 
 rails for a neighbor to earn enough cot- 
 ton "jeans," dyed with butternut stain, 
 to make his "freedom suit" of clothes. 
 This was his preparation for that fa- 
 mous "winter of the deep snow," one of 
 the coldest and hardest winters known 
 even in those days. 
 
 25 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 When the dutiful and forgiving son 
 had established his reputation for kind- 
 ness in New Salem, and had been 
 elected to the Legislature of the State; 
 had been influential in having the capi- 
 tal of Illinois removed from Vandalia 
 to Springfield and had been practising 
 law in Springfield, a former fellow 
 clerk, William G. Greene, paid a visit 
 to Tliomas liincoln, still living in a log 
 hut in Coles County. Old Tom Lin- 
 coln even then inveighed against his 
 son's studious ways. He said to 
 Greene : 
 
 "I s'pose Abe's still a-foolin' hisself 
 with eddication. I tried to stop it but 
 he's got that fool idee in his head, an' 
 it can't be got out. Now I hain't got 
 no eddication, but I git along better 'n 
 if I had." 
 
 In 1851, after Abraham Lincoln had 
 served a term in Congress at Washing- 
 26 
 
THE HEART IN THE HOME 
 
 ton, he heard that his father was very ill. 
 Unable, on account of legal business, to 
 go to his father's side, he wrote to his 
 stepbrother, as Thomas Lincoln could 
 not read his letter: 
 
 'T sincerely hope father may recover 
 his health; but at all events, tell him to 
 remember to call upon and confide in 
 our merciful Maker, who will not turn 
 away from him in any extremity. He 
 notes the fall of the sparrow, and num- 
 bers the hairs of our heads, and He will 
 not forget the dying man who puts his 
 trust in Him." 
 
 27 
 
"WHO LOVETH WELL" 
 
 It was while clerking in a country 
 store in New Salem, that young Lin- 
 coln earned the nickname of "Honest 
 Abe." By the kindness of his heart he 
 endeared himself to everybody in the 
 village. He was more than merely 
 honest. A strictly just young man 
 would have saved a woman's change till 
 she came to the store again, and then 
 would have made an honest confession 
 and rectified his mistake. But Abra- 
 ham Lincoln could not eat his supper 
 till he had walked across the prairie 
 and refunded the money to one woman 
 or carried to another all the tea she had 
 paid for. 
 
 A year or so after he settled in New 
 Salem young Lincoln was elected cap- 
 28 
 
"WHO LOVETH WELL" 
 
 tain in the Black Hawk war. He saw 
 no fighting, but Captain Lincohi had a 
 chance to champion the oppressed. 
 The settlers had no love for "the poor 
 Indian." They did not hesitate to ex- 
 press their belief that "the only good 
 Indian is the dead Indian." 
 
 One day Lincoln heard some of his 
 men belaboring a forlorn, helpless old 
 red man, and preparing to string him up 
 as a spy. The Indian showed them a 
 pass, but they were hustling him along 
 and threatening him, when their tall 
 captain sprang out among them, his 
 eyes blazing with indignation. 
 
 "Fall back, men; fall back!" he 
 shouted, his voice trembling with anger. 
 "Let the Indian go — he hasn't done 
 anything — he couldn't hurt you if he 
 tried." 
 
 "Say, Cap'n," said one of the soi- 
 diers — "that ain't fair. We know what 
 we're doin'." 
 
 29 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 "Let this old man go. If you want 
 to hurt somebody, take it out o' me. 
 I'll fight you all, but you sha'n't hurt a 
 helpless Indian. When a man comes 
 to me for help he's going to get it if I 
 have to lick the whole of Sangamon 
 County!" 
 
 The big captain's challenge was not 
 accepted. One of the men of that day, 
 knowing the bitter enmity between the 
 early western settler and the red man, 
 said that Captain Abraham Lincoln 
 saved the life of that Indian from the 
 hatred of those lawless recruits at the 
 risk of his own. But Lincoln thought 
 little of his own heroism. Indeed, he 
 hardly recognized the act as courage- 
 ous. His own sense of fair play and 
 the Indian's unspoken gratitude were 
 reward enough. 
 
 The love of his heart went out to- 
 wards the unfortunate, whether man, 
 30 
 
"WHO LOVETH WELL" 
 
 woman, bird or beast. This tenderness 
 made him the laughing-stock of his le- 
 gal friends on the Eighth Circuit of 
 Illinois. The lawyers used to ride 
 horseback, or drive about in buggies 
 from one county-seat to another, 
 to try their cases. Lawyer Lincoln 
 had as keen a sense of the ludicrous 
 as any of them, but he often fell 
 behind and was missed for hours when 
 his sensitive ear detected somewhere a 
 note of distress. 
 
 Once while driving through the mud 
 of Central Illinois, late in the fall, the 
 country lawyer was parrying the gibes 
 of his companions because of the new 
 clothes he wore, for Lincoln did not 
 often have a new suit. As they came 
 within a few miles of the little town of 
 Paris, the party's attention was at- 
 tracted from Lincoln's clothes to a pig 
 stuck in the mud and squealing lustily. 
 Although they all laughed at the pork- 
 31 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 er's absurd plight, the aniiiiars real dis- 
 tress soon overcame even Abraham 
 Lincoln's sense of the humorous and, in 
 spite of the jeers of his comrades, he 
 returned to the rescue of the hog, mud- 
 dying his new clothes in the act of kind- 
 ness. By laying fence-rails in the 
 mire, and using one as a fulcrum, he 
 pried the heavy animal out of the mud 
 with another rail, and had the satisfac- 
 tion of hearing its grateful grunts as it 
 trotted away, flopping its ears. Half 
 ashamed of his own tenderness he tried 
 to ward off his friends' jokes when he 
 caught up with them by explaining: 
 "If that farmer lost his pig, his poor 
 little children might have to go bare- 
 foot all winter." 
 
 On another occasion his companions 
 
 were annoyed and not a little amused to 
 
 see him hitch his horse and stride around 
 
 in the underbrush to catch two young 
 
 32 
 
"WHO LOVETH WELL" 
 
 birds fluttering on the ground in the 
 edge of a grove. Having caught the 
 fledglings, he hunted from tree to tree 
 till he foimd the nest from which they 
 had fallen, and put the birds back in a 
 place of safety. 
 
 An hour or so later, when he over- 
 took his friends again, they laughed at 
 this childish way of wasting time. 
 
 "Gentlemen," said he, "you may 
 laugh, but I couldn't have slept well to- 
 night if I had not saved those little 
 birds. Their cries and those of their 
 distracted mother would have rung in 
 my ears." 
 
 A Springfield lady used to like to tell 
 how she was standing — as a child at her 
 mother's gate, sobbing because the 
 hackman had failed to come and take 
 her and her trunk to the station for her 
 first outing on a train, to visit a girl 
 friend in a neighboring town. Mr. 
 33 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 Lincoln came along just then and asked 
 what was the matter. The little girl 
 sobbed out the heartrending story of 
 her disappointment. 
 
 "Cheer up," said the tall lawyer, 
 beaming kindly down at the child; 
 "we'll have to hurry." 
 
 Shouldering the trunk, he strode 
 away, while the little girl followed 
 after him, drying her eyes as she ran. 
 They were just in time. Putting trunk 
 and girl on the train, he kissed her good- 
 by and told her to "have a good time." 
 
 "It was just like himr exclaimed 
 that little girl grown to womanhood. 
 
 When Lincoln was a country law^^er 
 ahnost in middle life, he received his 
 first five-hundred-dollar fee. What 
 should he do with such a "bonanza"? 
 He decided to buy a quarter-section of 
 land to make his dear old stepmother 
 comfortable in her old age. She could 
 34 
 
nVHQ LQVETH WELL" 
 
 live on it and her sons could till the soil, 
 and it would hold the old woman's 
 family together. When he told a law- 
 yer-friend what he meant to do with so 
 much money, the man remonstrated 
 and advised him to give the old lady a 
 life-interest in the land in such a way 
 that it would revert to him at her death. 
 The struggling lawyer was indignant. 
 
 "I shall do no such thing," he said. 
 "It is a poor return, at best, for all the 
 good woman's devotion and fidelity to 
 me, and there is not going to be any 
 halfway business about it!" 
 
 His mother's and stepmother's rela- 
 tives were all illiterate ne'er-do-wells, 
 but instead of avoiding them, as none 
 of his own, he seemed to feel that they 
 were the more in need of his sympathy 
 and help. 
 
 During the great debates with Ste- 
 phen A. Douglas, Lincoln arrived at 
 Charleston, Illinois, worn out with 
 35 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 speaking and travel. When his friends 
 saw him going away from the comforts 
 of the hotel to call on a distant relative 
 of his stepmother, they remonstrated, 
 reminding him how much he needed 
 rest. He seemed surprised at the sug- 
 gestion. 
 
 *'Why," he exclaimed, "Aunt's heart 
 would be broken if I should leave town 
 without going to see her!" And he set 
 out, walking through the rain several 
 miles across the muddj^ prairie to call 
 on a remote relative of his stepmother. 
 
 People sometimes argue and disagree 
 about Lincoln's religion. He knew his 
 Bible and firmly believed in prayer. 
 But his belief was not a mere form. It 
 was the heart religion described by the 
 "Ancient Mariner": 
 
 "He prayeth well who loveth well 
 Both man and bird and beast." 
 
 36 
 
"WHO LOVETH WELL" 
 
 It was a true index to his character, 
 that when no one hired him to work he 
 could not be content with resting or 
 reading, much as he loved books. 
 While staying in the house of one of his 
 neighbors, among whom "Honest Abe" 
 was always welcome, he would rock the 
 cradle, play with the children, joke with 
 the young folks and tell his best stories 
 to the aged. It was said of him in 
 practical paraphrase of the scriptural 
 definition of "pure religion and unde- 
 filed," that he used to "visit the father- 
 less and widows in their affliction, and" 
 — chop their wood! 
 
 37 
 
THE HEART OF LOVE 
 
 Mr. Lincoln used to talk of love 
 among the dusty books of his dingy ; 
 
 law-office. ^ 
 
 'v. 
 
 "Did you ever write out a story in I 
 
 your mind?" he asked a friend one day. i 
 
 *'I did when I was a little codger. One 
 day a wagon, with a lady and two girls ' 
 
 and a man, broke down near us, and 
 while they were fixing up, they cooked \ 
 
 in our kitchen. The woman had books i 
 
 and read us stories, and they were the ^ 
 
 first of the kind I ever heard. ^ 
 
 "I took a great fancy to one of the > 
 
 girls, and when they were gone I j 
 
 thought of her a great deal, and one 
 day, when I was sitting out in the sun 
 by the house, I wrote out a story in my 
 88 
 
THE HEART OF LOVE 
 
 mind. I think that was the beginning 
 of love with me." 
 
 His first love was Ann, the comely 
 daughter of the keeper of Rutledge's 
 Tavern, where he boarded, for a time, 
 at New Salem. Abraham and Ann 
 studied grammar together, and the tall 
 boarder soon lost his heart. This must 
 have been when he learned how she had 
 been treated by her affianced, a young 
 man named McNamar, who had gone 
 east and had not even been heard of for 
 a long time. No doubt the element of 
 pity intensified his affection for the 
 young girl. William O. Stoddard, at one 
 time President Lincoln's private secre- 
 tary, has written fully of this love affair : 
 
 "It is not known precisely when Ann 
 Rutledge told her suitor that her heart 
 was his, but early in 1835 she permitted 
 it to be understood that she would 
 marry Abraham Lincoln as soon as his 
 39 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 legal studies should be completed. 
 That was a glorious summer for him; 
 the brightest, sweetest, hopef ulest he yet 
 had known. It was the fairest time he 
 was ever to see; for even now, as the 
 golden days came and went, they brought 
 increasing shadow on their wings. 
 
 *'On the 25th of August, 1835, just 
 before the summer died, Ann Rutledge 
 passed away from earth — but she never 
 faded from the heart of Abraham Lin- 
 coln, and the shadow of that great dark- 
 ness never entirely lifted from him. It 
 was then that he discovered, in a strange 
 collection of verses, those lines of Wil- 
 liam Knox, ever afterward his favorite 
 poem, beginning: 
 
 ** *Oh why should the spirit of mortal be proud?* 
 
 "There were well-grounded fears 
 
 that he might do himself some injury, 
 
 and a watch was vigilantly kept. He 
 
 had been, to that hour, a man of mar- 
 
 40 
 
THE HEART OF LOVE 
 
 velous poise and self-control, but, when 
 they came and told him she was dead, 
 his heart and will, and even his brain 
 itself gave way. He was frantic for a 
 time, seeming to lose even the sense of 
 his own identity, and all New Salem 
 said: 'Abe Lincoln's insane!' He pit- 
 eously moaned and raved: 
 
 " 'I never can be reconciled to have 
 the snow, rain and storms beat upon her 
 grave.' " 
 
 Too much has been made, by several 
 of Lincoln's biographers, of his so- 
 called love affair with Mary Owens. 
 Years after Miss Rutledge's death 
 Miss Owens came to visit her married 
 sister in New Salem. The sister an- 
 nounced her intention of making a 
 match between Mary and Abe Lincoln. 
 That of itself was enough to prevent 
 their caring much for each other. 
 Lawyer Lincoln called on Miss Owens, 
 41 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 and wrote several letters to her after his 
 removal to Springfield, apparently con- 
 sidering himself under a sort of obliga- 
 tion to marry the girl on account of all 
 her sister had said. 
 
 But Miss Mary Owens was a young 
 lady of spirit, as well as good looking 
 and intelligent, and she promptly cut 
 the Gordian knot by refusing her reluc- 
 tant suitor outright. 
 
 When Lawyer Lincoln went to 
 Springfield to practise law, he had been 
 a member of the State Legislature at 
 Vandalia, and had been the leader of a 
 group of tall men, known as "the Long 
 Nine," who brought about the removal 
 of the State capital to Springfield. 
 But the young lawyer from New Salem 
 was poor. At first he slept in the loft 
 above the store of a young Kentuckian 
 named Joshua Speed until he was able 
 to occupy better quarters. About this 
 42 
 
THE HEART OF LOVE 
 
 time Speed hired, for "sweeper-out" 
 and clerk, a lad they called "Billy" 
 Herndon, who soon developed aspira- 
 tions of his own. 
 
 "Give the boys a chance" was a motto 
 of Lawyer Lincoln's. He started in to 
 help "Billy" become a lawyer, as Major 
 Stuart had helped him. 
 
 After he went into partnership with 
 Major Stuart, Mr. Lincoln kept on 
 helping Billy in his law studies. While 
 he was Judge Logan's partner Lincoln 
 learned to be a better lawyer himself, 
 and he used all his knowledge for the 
 benefit of Billy Herndon. When the 
 law partnership of Logan and Lincoln 
 was dissolved, Mr. Lincoln, against the 
 advice of his friends, took Billy into the 
 firm and hung out a "shingle" with 
 
 LINCOLN & HERNDON 
 43 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 in bright, fresh letters which remained, 
 though tarnished, after the senior part- 
 ner had gone to Washington to be 
 President of the United States. Billy, 
 with all his foster-partner's help, could 
 not bear anything like half the burden 
 of the business. He could stay in the 
 office, make engagements, entertain 
 waiting clients, and try easy cases in the 
 senior partner's absence. He did not 
 even sweep or dust the office as he 
 had done in Speed's store. But all 
 this made no difference to Mr. Lin- 
 coln. 
 
 Billy had little occasion to keep 
 books, for when the chief collected a fee 
 he would come in, seat himself at the 
 rickety little office table and say, 
 "Come, sit down, Billy, let's divide." 
 
 Then he would proceed to count out 
 what he was pleased to call "Herndon's 
 half," and push it across to Billy's side 
 of the table. 
 
 44 
 
THE HEART OF LOVE 
 
 The largest fee Mr. Lincoln ever re- 
 ceived was five thousand dollars from a 
 great railroad lawsuit, and Herndon 
 records in his "Life of Lincohi": "He 
 gave me my half as coolly as he would 
 have given a few cents for a paper." 
 
 Among those who had been kind to 
 Abe Lincoln in the early New Salem 
 days w^as Jack Armstrong, the Clary's 
 Grove bully the new clerk had to fight 
 to a finish to estabhsh his reputation as 
 a yoimg man of parts in that rough 
 community. Armstrong and his wife, 
 Hannah, became staunch friends and 
 admirers of "Honest Abe." When 
 Abraham Lincoln was out of employ- 
 ment he often visited the Armstrongs. 
 After he became famous it was Mrs. 
 Armstrong's boast that — 
 
 "Abe would come out to our house, 
 drink milk, eat mush, corn-bread and 
 butter, bring the children candy, and 
 4i5 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 rock the cradle while I got hun some- 
 thing to eat. 
 
 "I foxed his pants, and made his 
 shirts. . . . He would nurse babies, and 
 do anything to accommodate anybody. 
 Lincoln has stayed at our house two or 
 three weeks at a time." 
 
 When the hahy Lincoln had rocked 
 grew up, he got into sore trouble. He 
 was accused of murder. When Law- 
 yer Lincoln learned of this he wrote to 
 Hannah, the boy's mother — for Jack 
 Armstrong was now dead, the follow- 
 ing letter: 
 
 "Springfield, 111., Sept., 1857. 
 "Dear Mrs. Armstrong; 
 
 "I have just heard of your deep 
 affliction and the arrest of your son for 
 murder. 
 
 "I can hardly believe that he can be 
 capable of the crime alleged against him. 
 "It does not seem possible. I am 
 46 
 
THE HEART OF LOVE 
 
 anxious that he should be given a fair 
 trial, at any rate; and gratitude for 
 your long-continued kindness to me in 
 adverse circumstances prompts me to 
 offer my humble services gratuitously 
 in his behalf. 
 
 "It will afford me an opportunity to 
 requite, in a small degree, the favors I 
 received at your hand, and that of your 
 lamented husband, when your roof af- 
 forded me a shelter, without money and 
 lyithout price." 
 
 The Armstrong trial became a cele- 
 brated case. Mr. Lincoln drew out the 
 chief accusing witness, who testified 
 that he saw "Duff" Armstrong strike 
 the fatal blow by moonlight — then 
 proved by the almanac that the moon 
 was not shining at that hour. 
 
 Armstrong was acquitted. It was a 
 labor of love for Lawyer Lincoln. 
 The young man and his widowed 
 47 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 mother sobbed in each other's arms, 
 then turned to thank their tall ben- 
 efactor. "Duff" Armstrong pushed 
 through the crowd and grasped his de- 
 liverer's hand, but he could not speak. 
 "Tears of gratitude filled the young 
 man's eyes, expressing far more than he 
 could have done by words." 
 
 "The course of true love never did 
 run smooth" with Abraham Lincoln. 
 While he was in partnership with INIa- 
 jor Stuart, his partner's cousin, Mary 
 Todd, came from Louisville, Kentucky, 
 to live with her sister, Mrs. Ninian W. 
 Evans, in Springfield. 
 
 Of course, the rising young attorney 
 soon met the Kentucky belle. Miss 
 Todd was bright, witty and accom- 
 plished. She was at home in good so- 
 ciety and seemed to possess everything 
 Mr. Lincoln so sadly lacked. From 
 their first meeting he became her ardent 
 48 
 
 i 
 
THE HEART OF LOVE 
 
 admirer. He found her brilliant, viva- 
 cious and ambitious. She had boasted 
 to her girl friends that she meant some 
 day to be mistress of the White House. 
 
 There was apparent rivalry between 
 the "Little Giant" of the West, Ste- 
 phen A. Douglas, and Abraham Lin- 
 coln. These two men were opposites 
 in build, temperament, education and 
 character, and became hfe-long com- 
 petitors. No doubt it was Lincoln's 
 heart and sincerity that finally won the 
 favor of Mary Todd. They were re- 
 ported to be engaged. They had an 
 understanding at least. But he was 
 morbid, and often melancholy, and she 
 was high-strung. Their "understand- 
 ing" soon became a grievous misunder- 
 standing. 
 
 Lincoln grew more and more melan- 
 choly, and his bosom friend invited him 
 to Kentucky, where Speed was then liv- 
 ing, happily married. There the sad 
 49 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 swain recovered, to a degree, his men- 
 tal balance. Returning to Springfield 
 he threw himself into politics. He 
 published a humorous letter, in the 
 county paper, against the State Audi- 
 tor, James Shields, a vain, pompous 
 little Irishman, and signed it "Rebecca 
 of the Lost Townships." 
 
 This was followed by another * 'Re- 
 becca" letter, not written by Lincoln, 
 but by Miss Todd and a girl friend. 
 The points in it were sharp, not politi- 
 cal as Lincoln's had been, but personal 
 and therefore offensive. Shields called 
 on the editor in a rage and demanded 
 the name of the writer. 
 
 Lincoln told the editor to give his 
 name only, thus making himself re- 
 sponsible for both letters. Shields 
 challenged him to a duel. Lincoln ac- 
 cepted, choosing ridiculous weapons, 
 and imposing absurd conditions which 
 revealed the fact that, though Shields 
 50 
 
THE HEART OF LOVE 
 
 would have done his best to kill Lincoln, 
 he was unwilling even to hurt Shields. 
 When they came face to face, explana- 
 tions were possible, and the f oohsh duel 
 was averted. 
 
 Miss Todd's heart must have softened 
 toward the tall knight who had stood 
 ready to risk his life for her sake, for 
 they were married early in the Novem- 
 ber following the summer of the "Re- 
 becca" letters. 
 
 The story, however, that Lincoln 
 failed to appear at his own wedding, 
 after Miss Todd's family had prepared 
 the marriage supper and Mary had 
 donned her bridal attire, is not true. 
 This story first appeared in Herndon's 
 "Life of Lincoln" and has been re- 
 peated till it is believed by millions of 
 people, in spite of the fact that it has 
 been denied and disproved a hundred 
 times by intimate friends of the fami- 
 lies concerned. 
 
 51 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 Mrs. Lincoln joined her husband's 
 friends in opposing his undue consid- 
 eration for Wilham Herndon. But 
 this was useless. Mr. Lincoln would 
 brook no interference with "Billy," who 
 did not seem to appreciate the kindness 
 of his chief. He did not even keep the 
 office in decent order. 
 
 Aside from his failure to do what he 
 could not, and his disposition not to do 
 what he could, Billy took to drinking. 
 This gave his fatherly partner the keen- 
 est anxiety, for Lincoln was a temper- 
 ance man. He was more anxious for 
 Billy's sake than for his own, detrimen- 
 tal as were the junior partner's habits 
 to their business. 
 
 His wife's ambition and tact led 
 Mr. Lincoln to run for Congress, and 
 he was elected over the Rev. Peter 
 Cartwright, the famous backwoods 
 preacher. While he was away at the 
 national capital Herndon got into 
 52 
 
THE HEART OF LOVE 
 
 petty complications, and well-nigh 
 ruined their business by drinking and 
 negligence. Not content with that, he 
 wrote complaining letters to the senior 
 partner in Washington, Congress- 
 man Lincoln wrote long and patient re- 
 plies to "poor Billy," describing all that 
 was going on around him and treating 
 the young man at home as if he were the 
 sufferer instead of the offender. He 
 humored Billy thus, still hoping for bet- 
 ter things. 
 
 After returning to Springfield — ^he 
 dechned to run for Congress again be- 
 cause of other men who needed and de- 
 served the honor! — he found matters 
 going from bad to worse. Instead of 
 taking up the work where he had left 
 off, he had to revive it. Billy, besides 
 receiving half the earnings of the busi- 
 ness, was a drain upon it, for Mr. Lin- 
 coln had to bail him out and pay dam- 
 53 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 ages in saloons where Herndon and his 
 rowdy associates had broken mirrors 
 and furniture during their nightly 
 carouses. 
 
 When Billy failed to show up at the 
 office in the morning, Mr. Lincoln was 
 in suspense until he learned what had 
 become of him. Following his fears he 
 had little difficulty in finding his erring 
 partner. These experiences recurred 
 with sickening regularity. 
 
 An acquaintance heard Mr. Lincoln 
 say to himself one morning, as he sprang 
 up the courthouse steps two at a time, 
 ''I can't let Billy go to jail!" 
 
 Of course, Herndon would cry and 
 promise to amend, and his soft-hearted 
 partner would grasp both the young 
 man's hands in his and, choking back a 
 sob, his deep gray eyes filling with 
 tears, he would say: 
 
 "Z believe in you, Billy. I'm sure 
 you'll do better now. Let this be a les- 
 54 
 
THE HEART OF LOVE 
 
 son to you — a warning! Brace up, my 
 dear boy, and we'll beat yet." 
 
 But Abraham Lincoln's great, yearn- 
 ing heart was hoping against hope. 
 
 Mrs. Lincoln's devotion, thrift and 
 ambition must have done much to in- 
 spire and advance her husband in his 
 wonderful career. She once said of 
 him: 
 
 "Mr. Lincoln was the kindest man 
 and the most loving husband in the 
 world." 
 
 Whenever anything occurred that 
 would gratify her ambition, his first 
 thought was of "httle Mary." When 
 he received the telegram announcing his 
 nomination for the presidency of the 
 United States, he exclaimed, as he 
 pulled himself out of a crowd of con- 
 gratulating fellow-citizens : 
 
 * 'There's a little woman down on 
 Eighth street who will be glad to hear 
 55 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 the news — you must excuse me while I 
 tell her." 
 
 The night of November 6, 1860, 
 when Mr. Lincoln learned, about mid- 
 night, that he was elected President, he 
 hurried home and burst into the room 
 in which his wife lay asleep, exclaim- 
 ing: 
 
 'Mary! Mary! Mary! WE'RE 
 ELECTED!"' 
 
 Soon after this an old woman, whom 
 Mr. Lincoln knew as "Aunt Sally," 
 came from New Salem to say good-by 
 to "Honest Abe," before he "went to 
 Washington to be the President." The 
 President-elect was standing in the 
 spacious room placed at his disposal in 
 the State Capitol, talking with two men 
 of national renown, when the old 
 woman came in, shy and embarrassed. 
 He saw his old friend at once and hur- 
 ried across the room to meet her. Tak- 
 56 
 
THE HEART OF LOVE 
 
 ing both her hands in his, he led her to 
 the seat of honor. Presenting his dis- 
 tinguished visitors to her, he tried ten- 
 derly to reassure her and put her at ease 
 by saying, as reported by Miss Tarbell: 
 
 "Gentlemen, this is a good old friend 
 of mine. She can bake the best flap- 
 jacks you ever tasted for she has baked 
 them for me many a time." 
 
 After quite a long stay Aunt Sally 
 pulled out from her basket a huge pair 
 of coarse yarn socks she had knit for 
 Mr. Lincoln. Taking the stockings by 
 the toes, he held one down each side of 
 his gigantic boots, exclaiming: 
 
 *' She's got my latitude and longitude 
 about right, hasn't she?" 
 
 Then, in simple words, he expressed 
 his thanks to the good old woman for 
 her thoughtful kindness, promised to 
 wear those very socks in the White 
 House, and to think of her as he did so. 
 
 Great joker as Mr. Lincoln was, 
 57 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 with his dominant sense of humor, he 
 was incapable of winking behind the 
 back of any person who had been kind 
 to him. He never said or did things 
 for mere pohteness' sake. He had 
 none of the veneer of societj^ but pos- 
 sessed the soMd heart of oak. 
 
 58 
 
"GREAT-HEART" IN THE WHITE 
 HOUSE 
 
 On that memorable Monday, Febru- 
 ary 11th, 1861, President-elect Lincoln 
 took his leave of Springfield, at the 
 railroad station, with the following 
 brief utterance — according to the sten- 
 ographic report of a newspaper corre- 
 spondent, who was himself an avowed 
 infidel: 
 
 "My Friends: — No one not in my 
 position can appreciate the sadness I 
 feel at this parting. To these people 
 I owe aU that I am. Here I have lived 
 more than a quarter of a century; here 
 my children were born, and here one of 
 them lies buried. I know not how soon 
 I shall see you here again. A duty de- 
 59 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 volves upon me which is, perhaps, 
 greater than that which has devolved 
 upon any man since the days of Wash- 
 ington. He would never have suc- 
 ceeded except for the aid of Divine 
 Providence, upon which he at all times 
 relied. I feel that I cannot succeed 
 without the same Divine aid which sus- 
 tained him, and in the same Almighty 
 Being I place my reliance for support; 
 and I hope you, my friends, will pray 
 that I may receive that Divine assist- 
 ance, without which I cannot succeed, 
 but with which success is certain. 
 I bid you all an affectionate farewell." 
 
 At Indianapolis, on their roundabout 
 route to Washington, Robert- Lincoln, 
 then a youth of seventeen, lost the trav- 
 eling bag which contained his father's 
 Inaugural Address. The Honorable 
 Robert Todd Lincoln, during the cen- 
 tennial celebration of his father's birth, 
 60 
 
GREAT HEART' 
 
 made the following correction of this 
 popular but mistakenly told story: 
 
 ''In the first place, it did not happen 
 at Harrisburg, as is generally reported, 
 but at Indianapohs. When we entered 
 the old Bates House there I set my 
 vahse down with those of the others of 
 our party, in the hotel office, and they 
 were all, mine among the rest, carried 
 away and put in a small room back of 
 the clerk's desk. I soon missed the bag 
 and was greatly alarmed because Father 
 had confided to me its precious contents, 
 the only copy of his Inaugural, which 
 he had written before leaving Spring- 
 field. 
 
 " I went at once and reported the loss 
 to him and, together, we had a search 
 made. The missing vahse was soon 
 found. There is no truth whatever in 
 the story that Father opened another 
 'gripsack' just like his, and found 'a 
 flask of whiskey, a pack of cards and a 
 61 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 soiled paper collar!' Nor did he take 
 out the Inaugural, put it in his pocket, 
 and tell a cheap, ill-fitting story, as one 
 biographer, whose data were furnished 
 him by Herndon, states with great 
 elaboration. 
 
 *'This is what actually happened: 
 He handed me the bag, and said gently, 
 'There, Bob, see if you can't take care 
 of it now.' That was more like him. 
 He believed in giving his own boys, as 
 well as others, a chance. He showed 
 that he trusted me with his most valued 
 possession, and you may depend on it 
 I was faithful to that trust!" 
 
 Abraham Lincoln went to Washing- 
 ton with an aching heart. He lived 
 every day as if it were his last on earth. 
 He had much before him which he hoped 
 to be able to do. He found chaos 
 everywhere — a panic of statecraft in 
 the North, an epidemic of anarchy in 
 62 
 
"GREAT HEART" 
 
 the South. The leading minds of the 
 country seemed to have gone daft. 
 They advocated the most foolhardy 
 schemes. Seward, his greatest rival, 
 now his Secretary of State, actually 
 proposed that President Lincoln should 
 keep his hands off the helm and let him, 
 Seward, steer the Ship of State! Sew- 
 ard and Chase, and later, McClellan 
 and Stanton, each felt that he, himself, 
 alone, was divinely appointed to save 
 the Union. 
 
 They did not believe in their chief. 
 The party that had elected Lincoln 
 looked on with misgivings. They felt 
 that the people, after all, had been car- 
 ried away by their boundless enthusi- 
 asm, so that the "Rail- Splitter" had 
 been washed up into the White House 
 by a tidal wave of popular frenzy, and 
 left there high and dry like a stranded 
 sea monster out of his natural element. 
 When President Lincohi's subordi- 
 63 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 nates insulted him by patronizing him, 
 
 **He knew to bide his time.'* 
 
 He replied to Secretary Seward with 
 the masterful tenderness he had shown 
 to his stepbrother ten years earlier, 
 when John proposed a scheme about as 
 foolish and visionary as the Secretary 
 of State's plan for getting up a war 
 with England! 
 
 Mr. Lincoln had practised ruling his 
 own s]3irit and forgiving in advance; 
 in his dealings with his father, he had 
 learned many lessons in self-repression, 
 self-denial and self-sacrifice, while 
 smarting under his sense of the injus- 
 tice done him when he was called lazy 
 and a shirk, as he lay beside his wooden 
 shovel, trying to study b}^ the flickering- 
 firelight — preparing himself, heart and 
 soul, for these very crises in his life. 
 
 There was something more than 
 64 
 
"GREAT HEART" 
 
 human in Abraham Lincohi's charity. 
 No mortal man was ever more possessed 
 of the love that "suffereth long and is 
 kind; — beareth all things, believeth all 
 things, hopeth all things, endureth all 
 things." 
 
 People understood him the more 
 slowly because of his many stories, 
 which were so unexpected and strange 
 that those who heard them failed to 
 comprehend their deep import. When 
 self-appointed delegations came to pro- 
 test against this or to urge that, the 
 kindness of his heart always rescued the 
 situation with a story. 
 
 And those stories! The sympathy 
 in them was exquisite. Instead of hid- 
 ing a sting they were full of balm and 
 the oil of gladness for the smarts and 
 wounds of his listeners. Men some- 
 times scoffed because Lincoln laughed 
 while relating them. But he did not 
 65 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 laugh at his stories so much as mth his 
 hearers, from the pure joy of giving 
 pleasure. If ever there was "a face 
 illumined" by the glowing heart behind 
 it, it was Abraham Lincoln's. That is 
 why a woman left him one day, exclaim- 
 ing: 
 
 "They say 'Mr. Lincoln's an ugly 
 man.' It's a wicked lie — I think he has 
 the loveliest face I ever saw!" 
 
 It may have been "homely," but Mr. 
 Lincoln's face was never *'ugly." It 
 often shone "like the face of an angel," 
 for his fervent sympathy made him like 
 an angel of light to many a breaking 
 heart. 
 
 It was his heart that prompted the 
 Emancipation Proclamation long be- 
 fore it was promulgated — but his head 
 held it back until the fullness of the time 
 was come. Then he announced it with 
 fear and trembling, but afterwards his 
 heart rejoiced. 
 
 66 
 
"GREAT HEART" 
 
 The Gettysburg Address is warm 
 with the rare love of Lincoki's hfe. 
 There is a new story, which illustrates 
 his ever ready sympathy — of a shy old 
 Quakeress who fainted in front of the 
 speaker's stand shortly before he rose 
 to deliver that immortal address. He 
 saw the crowd pressing tighter around 
 her, so he came at once to the rescue. 
 
 "Here," he commanded, "hand that 
 lady up to me." Tenderly placing the 
 unconscious woman in the rocking- 
 chair reserved for himself, he half -knelt 
 beside her, so when she began to revive, 
 she found herself being fanned anx- 
 iously by the President of the United 
 States — in the face and eyes of about 
 fifteen thousand people! This was too 
 much for the shrinking old lady in plain 
 garb. 
 
 "I — feel — better now," she pro- 
 tested feebly. "I want — to — to go — 
 back there," pointing to where her hus- 
 67 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 band stood looking up at her in won- 
 dering solicitude. 
 
 "O, no, indeed!" laughed Mr. Lin- 
 coln kindly. "You're all right up here. 
 It was all we could do to pull you up 
 out of that crowd, and we could never 
 stick you down into it again!" 
 
 Thus reassured the simple old lady 
 forgot the thirty thousand eyes while 
 she listened, sitting among the most il- 
 lustrious men of her day, to a short, 
 simple speech — but one of the subhmest 
 addresses ever delivered. 
 
 A young theological student, named 
 Henry E. Jacobs, had worked his way 
 up close to the speaker's platform dur- 
 ing Edward Everett's two-hour ora- 
 tion. He has recently described Mr. 
 Lincoln's manner in delivering his brief 
 address on this great occasion. 
 
 "I watched the President closely," 
 said the Rev. Dr. Jacobs, fifty years 
 68 
 
"GREAT HEART" 
 
 afterward. "When he saw that Mr. 
 Everett's long oration was drawing to a 
 close, he took from an inside pocket two 
 or three small leaves of paper and be- 
 gan to read them with his eye-glasses 
 perched near the end of his nose, glanc- 
 ing furtively over them to right and 
 left, like a schoolboy about to be called 
 on to recite a poorly prepared lesson. 
 But he gave the closest attention to the 
 final words of the orator of the day, 
 and, becoming absorbed, he absently 
 crammed his mussed-up manuscript 
 back into the capacious pocket. 
 
 "During the singing of a dirge, writ- 
 ten by a Gettysburg man. President 
 Lincoln drew forth the few pieces of 
 paper and conned them over till the 
 time came for him to deliver it. 
 
 "Holding those few precious pages, 
 
 now in one hand, now in the other, he 
 
 looked at them casually — his glasses 
 
 still astride the tip of his nose — as if 
 
 69 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 reading — until he came to the closing 
 words, 'of the people, by the people, 
 for the people,' he held the little sheets 
 straight down before him in both hands 
 and bowed as he pronounced the prep- 
 ositions 'of,' 'by' and 'for' — to right, 
 to left and to the front — then, straight- 
 ening up to his full height, he spread 
 out his long arms (the pages were then 
 in his right hand) as he impressively 
 uttered the final words, 'shall not — 
 perish from — the earth.' 
 
 "It is absurd to say the President 
 was not applauded on that occasion. 
 He was interrupted several times, and 
 roundly cheered at the close of his 
 speech. 
 
 ''Not a train left Gettysburg all day 
 until the President's special went out 
 that night. In the afternoon there 
 were some services in the Presbj^terian 
 church. I don't remember who the 
 70 
 
"GREAT HEART" 
 
 speaker was — but he was not a man of 
 national renown. 
 
 "Yet President Lincoln insisted on 
 going to hear him. He invited Secre- 
 tary-of- State Seward to accompany 
 him, then sent for old John Burns, the 
 village cobbler, who had gone into the 
 fight in his Sunday clothes and distin- 
 guished himself for bravery. He was 
 afterward immortalized by Bret Harte 
 as the hero of the ballad 'John Burns of 
 Gettysburg.' The President invited 
 the Gettysburg cobbler to go with him 
 to the church and it was the proudest 
 hour in John Burns's life when he 
 marched through the streets of the town 
 with the President of the United States 
 on one arm and the Secretary of State 
 on the other. 
 
 "In this simple act Mr. Lincoln 
 
 meant to honor every hero in the town, 
 
 for there were other men of Gettysburg 
 
 who had risked and given their lives for 
 
 71 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 their country in that three days' con- 
 flict — the greatest battle in the heroic 
 history of the world." 
 
 As to the speech itself, it seems 
 strange now that of all men, Edwin 
 M. Stanton, the Secretary of War, who 
 was not even present at Gettysburg on 
 that occasion, should have been among 
 the first to appreciate the simj)le gran- 
 deur of the Gettysburg Address. 
 Stanton — rude, sneering, caustic, con- 
 temptuous Stanton — who had taken 
 almost devilish delight in insulting 
 Lincoln when they first met, eight 
 years earlier, in the great McCormick 
 Reaper case — Stanton, who had called 
 Mr. Lincoln a gorilla, an imbecile 
 and a fool — with many a profane ex- 
 pletive — up to the very day the Presi- 
 dent made him war secretary! Mind 
 alone could never have conquered the 
 obdurate soul of Secretary Stanton. 
 It was Lincoln's heart that wrought 
 72 
 
GREAT HEART" 
 
 this greatest miracle of his hfe. 
 
 In spite of Stanton's atrocious treat- 
 ment of him, President Lincoln recog- 
 nized the sterling worth and patriotism 
 of his motives so he said he was glad to 
 bear Stanton's snarling ways for the 
 good the Secretary could do the nation. 
 People at home and abroad freely criti- 
 cized Mr. Lincoln for allowing his Sec- 
 retary of War to oppose and stultify 
 him in so many ways, often doing and 
 saying trivial, annoying things. But, 
 little by little, as a trainer breaks a frac- 
 tious horse, Lincoln tightened his rein, 
 until one day, with the utmost kindness, 
 yet with adamantine firmness, the 
 President said: 
 
 "Mr. Secretar}^, it will have to be 
 done." 
 
 And it was done. 
 
 73 
 
HIS CHANGE OF HEART 
 
 A colored seamstress in the White 
 House tells a sad story of Lincoln's 
 love for his children. Willie, the 
 second living son, had taken a severe 
 cold, but the doctor said there was no 
 danger, and advised Mrs. Lincoln to 
 go on and give a grand reception for 
 which thousands of invitations had been 
 issued. While this function was in 
 progress in the East Room it was found 
 that Willie was very ill indeed. 
 
 ^'During the evening Mrs. Lincoln 
 came upstairs several times and stood 
 by the bedside of the suffering boy. 
 She loved him with a mother's heart, 
 and her anxiety w^as great. The night 
 passed slowly, morning came, and 
 Willie was worse. He lingered a few 
 74 
 
HIS CHANGE OF HEART 
 
 days and died. God called the beau- 
 tiful spirit home, and the house of joy 
 was turned into a house of mourning. 
 
 "I was worn out with watching, and 
 was not in the room when Willie died, 
 but I was immediately sent for. I as- 
 sisted in washing and dressing him, and 
 then laid him on the bed, when Mr. Lin- 
 coln came in. I never saw a man so 
 bowed down with grief. He came to 
 the bed, lifted the cover from the face of 
 the child, gazed at it long and earnestly, 
 murmuring: 
 
 " 'My poor boy! He was too good 
 for this earth. God has called him 
 home. I know he is much better off in 
 Heaven, but then we loved him so! It 
 is hard — hard — to have him die!' 
 
 "Great sobs choked his utterance. 
 He buried his head in his hands, and his 
 tall form was convulsed with emotion. 
 I stood at the foot of the bed, my eyes 
 full of tears, looking at the man in si- 
 75 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 lent, awe-stricken wonder. His grief 
 unnerved him, and made him like a 
 weak, passive child. I did not dream 
 that his rugged nature could be so 
 moved; I shall never forget those 
 solemn moments. There is a grandeur 
 as well as a simplicity about the picture 
 that will never fade. 
 
 *'Mrs. Lincoln was inconsolable. In 
 one of her paroxysms of grief the Presi- 
 dent kindly bent over his wife, took her 
 by the arm and gently led her to a 
 window. With a stately gesture he 
 pointed to the lunatic asylum, as he said : 
 
 " 'Mother, do you see that large white 
 building on the hill yonder? Try to 
 control your grief or it will drive you 
 mad, and we may have to send you 
 there.' " 
 
 This anxious warning was no misap- 
 prehension. Mary Todd's girlish ambi- 
 tion to be mistress of the White House 
 76 
 
HIS CHANGE OF HEART 
 
 had been fulfilled — but with how many 
 sorrows! The President's mansion 
 was a house of mourning nearly all the 
 time the Lincolns lived in it, until the 
 terrible tragedy that drove them out of 
 it. Mrs. Lincoln never again went 
 into the room in which Willie died, nor 
 would she enter the Blue Room after 
 his funeral was held there. 
 
 Although the Lincolns had lost their 
 baby boy, Eddie, years before leaving 
 Springfield, the death of Willie almost 
 unhinged the reason of the fond 
 mother, and weighed down the father's 
 life with a sadness he never could shake 
 off. An attendant in the White House 
 saw the President walking up and down 
 the spacious chamber, and heard him 
 saying to himself: 
 
 *'This is the hardest trial of my life. 
 Why is it? Why is it?" 
 
 A caller, wishing to comfort the 
 heart-broken President, told him that 
 77 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 good people all over the land were 
 praying for him. He replied grate- 
 fully: 
 
 "I am glad to hear that. I want 
 them to pray for me. I need their 
 prayers." 
 
 The chastening effect of this great 
 grief was manifest in many ways. He 
 told an intimate friend that this be- 
 reavement had brought him closer to 
 the Father than any previous experi- 
 ence. When he, as President-elect, 
 said good-by to his Springfield neigh- 
 bors, he referred to "Divine Provi- 
 dence" in the abstract. But as the cares 
 and responsibilities of the nation 
 weighed him down, the divine Being 
 came to present Himself as a concrete 
 personality. His accountability to 
 God, as well as to the people, made him 
 take a common-sense view of his own 
 weakness and need of help. He said to 
 Noah Brooks, a Western newspaper 
 78 
 
HIS CHANGE OF HEART 
 
 corresi^ondent who often called at the 
 White House: 
 
 "I should be the veriest shallow and 
 self-conceited blockhead upon the foot- 
 stool if, in the discharge of the duties 
 that are put upon me in this place, I 
 should hope to get along without the 
 wisdom that comes from One w^ho is 
 stronger and wiser than all others." 
 
 He remarked to a distinguished min- 
 ister from New York, not long after 
 the beginning of the war: 
 
 *'If it were not for my firm behef in 
 an overruling Providence it would be 
 difficult for me, in the midst of such 
 complications of affairs, to keep my 
 reason on its seat. But I am confident 
 that the Almighty has His plans and 
 will work them out: and so, whether 
 we see it or not, they will be the wisest 
 and best for us." 
 
 Different members of the President's 
 79 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 life-guard have told of finding him 
 dressed and reading the Bible before 
 the rest of the family were up in the 
 morning; and of seeing him on his 
 knees in an agony of prayer long after 
 the others had retired for the night. 
 
 While friends were urging him to 
 emancipate the slaves, President Lin- 
 coln prayed a good deal. This atti- 
 tude of mind, referred to by members 
 of the Cabinet, is revealed in the closing 
 words of the Emancipation Proclama- 
 tion: 
 
 "And upon this act, sincerely be- 
 lieved to be an act of justice warranted 
 by the Constitution, I invoke the consid- 
 erate judgment of mankind and the 
 gracious favor of Almighty God." 
 
 He issued this proclamation when he 
 felt sure that it could be delayed no 
 longer. "Public sentiment would sus- 
 tain it — many of his warmest friends 
 and supporters demanded it — and he 
 80 
 
HIS CHANGE OF HEART 
 
 had promised God that he would do it." 
 Before this he had talked much with 
 some of his advisers of his belief that 
 God would perform the impossible. 
 Yet delegations of ministers came to 
 coach the President concerning the will 
 of God, as though there were no direct 
 way for him to find out the divine plan. 
 One day, when he had the Emancipa- 
 tion Proclamation all ready, and in his 
 pocket waiting for the right juncture 
 of the war and affairs of State before 
 announcing it, a clergyman called and 
 asserted, with solemn unction, that he 
 had received a special revelation that 
 the right psychological moment for 
 freeing the slaves had arrived, and that 
 he had come from Chicago to bring the 
 divine message. 
 
 "Well, now, ain't that strange?" said 
 
 the President, with a smile the minister 
 
 did not then understand. *'Here I am, 
 
 studying that very question day and 
 
 81 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 night, for weeks and months — and I 
 am the one to act in this important 
 matter, too — so ain't it rather odd that 
 the only channel the Divine Master can 
 send this message by is the roundabout 
 route by way of that awful, wicked city 
 of Chicago?" 
 
 The pious reflections and exhorta- 
 tions of ministers and others who as- 
 sumed to have a monopoly of heavenly 
 wisdom, tried even Abraham Lincoln's 
 long-suffering patience. Once, "in the 
 burden and heat of the day," a clergy- 
 man said, with unctuous solemnity, "I 
 hope the Lord is on our side." 
 Mr. Lincoln promptly answered: 
 "I am not at all concerned about that 
 — ^but it is my constant anxiety and 
 prayer that I and this nation shall be 
 on the Lord's sideT 
 
 More than a year after Willie's 
 82 
 
HIS CHANGE OF HEART 
 
 death the President remarked to a vis- 
 itor: 
 
 "I made a solemn vow before God 
 that if General Lee was driven back 
 from Pennsylvania I would cro\^Ti the 
 result with a declaration of freedom to 
 the slaves." 
 
 It was natural to a man whose re- 
 ligion was a matter of experimental 
 common sense to find a crisis in his re- 
 ligious life in the great crisis of the life 
 of the whole nation. After the battle 
 of Gettysburg the President went to 
 call on General Sickles, who had lost a 
 leg in an engagement there. Mr. Lin- 
 coln related to the wounded general his 
 religious experience in connection with 
 the great battle: 
 
 *'I had no fears for Gettysburg, and 
 
 if you really want to know I will tell 
 
 you why. In the stress and pinch of 
 
 the campaign there, I went to my room 
 
 83 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 and got down on my knees and prayed 
 Almighty God for victory at Gettys- 
 burg. I told Him that this is His 
 country and the war is His war, but 
 that we really couldn't stand another 
 Fredericksburg or Chancellorsville. 
 
 ''And then and there I made a 
 solemn vow with my Maker that if He 
 would stand by the boys at Gettysburg 
 I would stand by Him. And He did, 
 and 1 will! 
 
 "After this, I don't know how it was, 
 and it is not for me to explain, but 
 somehow or other, a sweet comfort 
 crept into my soul, that God Almighty 
 had taken the whole thing into His 
 own hands, and we were bound to win 
 at Gettysburg." 
 
 In the last year of his life a minister 
 from Illinois asked President Lincoln 
 if he was a Christian! Instead of re- 
 senting this impertinence, as many a 
 84 
 
HIS CHANGE OF HEART 
 
 man in his position would have done — 
 especially a man who, in his letters, 
 speeches, conversation and daily life 
 had given unmistakable evidences of 
 his devotion — Mr. Lincoln replied as 
 simply as a child: 
 
 "When I left Springfield I asked the 
 people to pray for me: I was not a 
 Christian. When I buried my son — 
 the severest trial of my life — I was not 
 a Christian. But when I went to Get- 
 tysburg and saw the graves of thou- 
 sands of our soldiers, I then and there 
 consecrated myself to Christ." 
 
 85 
 
HIS LOVE FOR LITTLE TAD 
 
 Mr. Lincoln seldom spoke of Willie. 
 Robert was away at Harvard. When 
 he came home from college he went 
 right to the front as one of General 
 Grant's aides. Thus only Thomas, 
 nicknamed "Tad, the pet of the na- 
 tion," was left at home. The boy was 
 passionately affectionate — his father's 
 inseparable companion. A word from 
 the father would make the boy laugh 
 gleefully, or melt him to tears. He did 
 not seem to wish for any other play- 
 mate. One of the President's life- 
 guard has recorded that the only times 
 Mr. Lincohi ever seemed happy were 
 while they were romping through the 
 stately rooms of the Executive Man- 
 sion together, whooping like wild In- 
 86 
 
HIS LOVE FOR LITTLE TAD 
 
 dians, playing horse, carrying the boy 
 "pickaback," or holding him high on his 
 shoulders, where he had been in the 
 habit of carrying both boys when Willie 
 was playing too. The loss of the older 
 boy seemed to intensify the father's de- 
 votion to httle Tad. 
 
 At such times tlie boy's small cup of 
 joy was brimful, and he exx^ressed it 
 by chuckling and shouting: 
 
 "Papa-day! O Papa-day!" 
 
 The little fellow had an impediment 
 in his speech, due to a slight cleft in his 
 palate, so that strangers could not 
 readily understand him. But his 
 father understood his afflicted bo}'^ — 
 every word! No matter who was with 
 the President, or what grave matters 
 might be discussed by Seward, Stanton 
 or Sumner — if little Tad spoke, his 
 father was all attention, bending fondly 
 down to the boy, for the time oblivious 
 87 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 of all else. Senators and secretaries 
 were sometimes annoyed by Tad's in- 
 terruptions, but their very impatience 
 seemed to intensify Mr. Lincoln's 
 yearning over his lonely, afflicted son 
 with a passion of tenderness which was 
 much more than mere doting indul- 
 gence. 
 
 Dinging the long, grave Cabinet 
 meetings Tad played about, falling 
 asleep on the floor or climbing into his 
 father's lap and taking a nap there. 
 He accompanied the President to For- 
 tress Monroe, and, clinging to his fath- 
 er's hand, they stalked and trotted 
 through the streets of fallen Richmond 
 together. 
 
 While the President was making his 
 last, happy speech from the northern 
 portico of the White House, in re- 
 sponse to a serenade congratulating him 
 because the war was over, little Tad 
 88 
 
HIS LOVE FOR LITTLE TAD 
 
 stood by, grabbing the leaves of his 
 father's manuscript as he dropped them 
 for the boy to catch. When they 
 floated down too slowly to suit him. 
 Tad tugged the tails of the President's 
 long black coat and demanded in a 
 shrill, piping voice; 
 
 "Give me 'nother paper, Papa-day!" 
 
 It was at the close of this carefully 
 written address, beginning, "We meet 
 this evening, not in sorrow, but in glad- 
 ness of heart," that the President, as he 
 was about to retire within the mansion, 
 called out to the serenading "Northern" 
 band to play "Dixie," joyously adding, 
 "We have a right to 'Dixie' now!" 
 
 This expression of his heart-love for 
 the South, in spite of all the bitterness 
 fostered against him in the rebelling 
 States, was Lincoln's last public utter- 
 ance. 
 
 When he went into the house Mrs. 
 Lincoln called his attention to the fact 
 89 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 that he might easily have been shot 
 while speaking, and begged him not to 
 expose himself so recklessly again. 
 
 According to a trusted servant in the 
 White House, President Lincoln, dur- 
 ing the last week of his life, spoke in 
 the highest praise of General Robert E. 
 Lee. Robert Lincoln had just re- 
 turned from Virginia with General 
 Grant, and showed a photograph he 
 had of the Confederate commander to 
 his father. The President gazed ear- 
 nestly at the picture and remarked to 
 his son: 
 
 *'It is the face of a noble, brave man." 
 
 Before the sad death of "Stonewall" 
 Jackson, he had been heard to say of 
 the Southern general: 
 
 "He is a brave, Presbyterian soldier. 
 If we, in the North, had more such gen- 
 erals, this war would not drag along 
 
 so." 
 
 90 
 
HIS LOVE FOR LITTLE TAD 
 
 Lincoln, a Southerner himself, and 
 married to a Southern lady, had great 
 tenderness for the South. There was 
 a compartment in his private cabinet 
 crammed with threats of assassination. 
 To these he never referred except to 
 say there was no use of taking precau- 
 tions or "gettin' skeert," as he pro- 
 nounced it. 
 
 "If they want to kill me," he said with 
 a smile, "they'll do it somehow." 
 
 He lived his life "with a heart for any 
 fate," in the spirit of the Man who 
 breathed out His love for all mankind 
 on the first Good Friday, long ago, 
 saying: 
 
 "Father, forgive them, they know not 
 what they do." 
 
 Good Friday, 1865, fell on the four- 
 teenth of April. They had the regu- 
 lar Cabinet meeting — Lincoln's last. 
 At its close they congratulated the 
 President pn his improved appear- 
 91 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 ance already, for his face had grown 
 more and more ghastly and drawn and 
 anxious all through the terrible days 
 and nights of the war. To Stanton he 
 looked no longer like a gorilla or an im- 
 becile, for the war secretary remarked 
 that day to the Attorney General, 
 "Didn't our chief look grand to-day!" 
 
 That very night the conquering hero 
 became, in fact, what he had long been 
 at heart — a martyr. The next morn- 
 ing, at twenty-two minutes after seven, 
 when the heart of Lincoln ceased to 
 beat, it was Stanton — heart-conquered, 
 loyal, devoted, loving, heart-broken 
 Stanton — who closed the dying eyes of 
 his tender-hearted chief; then he turned 
 away, his whole frame shaking with 
 suppressed emotion as he whispered 
 tenderly : 
 
 "Now he belongs to the ages!" 
 
 92 
 
THE HEARTBROKEN PEOPLE 
 
 The world stood aghast, and the 
 American people were stricken with 
 grief. Even the Southern leaders sud- 
 denly realized that the South had lost 
 its best friend in the North. As for 
 the Northern people, they met on Pa- 
 triots' Day (April 19th) in their own 
 places, in city and country, and 
 
 "Wept with the passion of an angry grief," 
 
 while the simple funeral services were 
 going on in the East Room of the 
 White House. Twenty-five millions 
 of men, women and children are esti- 
 mated to have gathered all over the civ- 
 ilized world and sobbed out their sor- 
 row over the death of the well-beloved 
 President. Strong men, never known 
 93 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 to weep over their own troubles or pri- 
 vate sorrows, broke down and cried like 
 little children when they heard of the 
 murder of Abraham Lincoln. 
 
 But Lincohi did not become a multi- 
 millionaire in hearts at a single bound. 
 The people mourned the man more 
 than the President. It was by no acci- 
 dental combination or sequence of 
 events that the whole world wept by 
 Lincoln's bier. He began by endear- 
 ing himself to his own family, and a 
 few backwoods relations and neighbors. 
 Then New Salem learned to love him, 
 as it never loved any one else. So of 
 Springfield and the Eighth Judicial 
 Circuit of Illinois. 
 
 When the supporters and henchmen 
 of Seward, Chase and Cameron came 
 to that Chicago Convention, in 1860, 
 they utterly failed to comprehend Lin- 
 coln's strange popularity. In their 
 94 
 
HEARTBROKEN PEOPLE 
 
 perplexity they did not grasp the fact 
 that they were contending with the 
 "principalities and powers" of Abra- 
 ham Lincohi's tender and all-inclusive 
 heart. 
 
 They laughed at the very idea of a 
 "rail-splitter president," and sneered 
 at his "coarse, clumsy jokes." Then 
 they tried to account for all they could 
 not comprehend by calling him "a man 
 of the people." This was true in a 
 sense, but only in the highest sense. 
 Lincohi was "the man with a heart" — 
 and the people saw through and recog- 
 nized him as the one "man after their 
 own hearts." 
 
 Douglas, his life-long rival, knowing 
 something of his popularity, remarked 
 when he heard of Lincoln's nomination: 
 "Every tar-barrel in Illinois will be 
 burning to-night." This enthusiasm 
 spread all over the North like a prairie 
 
 fire. 
 
 95 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 On a tidal wave of heart responding 
 to heart, Lincohi was carried 
 
 "From prairie cabin up to Capitol.'* 
 
 During the war, which quickly fol- 
 lowed, a large part of the patriotism of 
 the soldiers was their personal love for 
 Abraham Lincoln. To them he seemed 
 the living personification of their coun- 
 try, threatened and wronged. "Father 
 Abraham" meant more to them even 
 than "Uncle Sam," in those awful days. 
 
 When President Lincoln issued call 
 after call for soldiers, and for more 
 soldiers, and still more, men and boys 
 seemed never to tire of responding: 
 
 **We are coming, Father Abraham, 
 Three hundred thousand more.'* 
 
 Americans are sometimes accused of 
 a certain lack of patriotism because 
 they fail to rise when "The Star- 
 Spangled Banner" is played, some- 
 96 
 
HEARTBROKEN PEOPLE 
 
 times flippantly, in a musical medley. 
 But the men and boys of '61, as well as 
 those of '76, give the lie direct and 
 eternal to all such false accusations. 
 Patriotism, in the United States of 
 America, is much more than a feeling 
 which finds its expression and satisfac- 
 tion in mere matters of sentiment and 
 etiquette — it is the religion of country. 
 
 The *'Boys in Blue" said among 
 themselves, in exulting tones when 
 they spoke of Lincoln, 'Tie cares for 
 us! he loves us!" and they cheerfully, 
 and even humorously — to be like him — 
 marched into the jaws of death for his 
 dear sake. It was a far different love 
 from that inspired in his generals and 
 grenadiers by Napoleon, for their loy- 
 alty flagged and failed. They knew 
 that Napoleon's ambition was for him- 
 self first, then for them, as a means of 
 gaining it. It was Napoleon's want of 
 97 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 heart that made him a colossal failure, 
 while Lincoln's self -giving soul crowned 
 his life, though he was murdered, with 
 success immortal. Almost from baby- 
 hood Lincoln was a burning and shining 
 light emblazoning in letters of living 
 fire his own illustrious words: 
 
 "With malice toward none; with 
 
 charity for all." 
 
 • ••••• 
 
 Where Tad had been the night 
 of Lincoln's assassination no one knew, 
 but Thomas Pendel, the faithful door- 
 keeper of the White House, relates 
 that the boy came in very late at the 
 basement door and clambered up the 
 lower stairway, crying — "Tom Pen! 
 Tom Pen! They've killed Papa-day! 
 They've killed my Papa-day!" 
 
 They brought Mrs. Lincoln home in 
 a state of colla^Dse. The only wonder 
 is that the horrible scene in which she 
 98 
 
HEARTBROKEN PEOPLE 
 
 had participated did not rob her of 
 reason altogether. During the gusts 
 of grief to which she gave way in spite 
 of herself, little Tad would look up at 
 her in terror, and cry out: 
 
 "Don't cry so. Mamma, or you'll 
 break my heart!" 
 
 Then the sorrow-stricken mother 
 would crush the child in a passionate 
 embrace, cover his upturned face with 
 kisses and tears, and summon all the 
 resolution she could for his sake. 
 Standing between his mother and his 
 small brother, poor Robert had need of 
 all the manly tenderness of liis nature 
 — "so like his father's," they said. 
 
 The terrific strain was too great for 
 the desolate little woman, widowed by 
 the most hideous cruelty, and she lay 
 utterly prostrated, unable to go on that 
 winding journey from Washington to 
 Springfield, and be present at the burial 
 99 
 
THE HEART OF LINCOLN 
 
 of the bodies of her husband and Wil- 
 lie — unable for many weeks even to 
 leave the White House to the new 
 President, Andrew Johnson, and his 
 large family. 
 
 Poor little Tad was lonely. He 
 missed his father sadly. He would 
 wander through the great, empty rooms 
 as though he were looking for some one. 
 Many times a day he was heard to 
 murmur : 
 
 "O Papa-day! where's my Papa-day? 
 I'm tired of playing by myself. I want 
 to play 'together' — only a little while — 
 just this once, please, Papa-day!" 
 
 His sense of loneUness invaded even 
 his dreams. The ever-watchful door- 
 keeper, or one of the life-guard, would 
 lie down beside the little fellow and try 
 to soothe and comfort him through the 
 long, troubled nights. 
 
 One minute he seemed, in his dreams, 
 to be romping once more with his great, 
 100 
 
HEARTBROKEN PEOPLE 
 
 tall playfellow, gurgling, chuckling and 
 crying out: 
 
 "Papa-day! O Papa-day!" 
 
 Then the sense of his great loss pene- 
 trated his sleep, and he would sob out, 
 "O Papa-day, where's my Papa-day?" 
 
 "Your papa's gone," said the life- 
 guard, hoarsely — "gone to Heaven." 
 
 Little Tad listened and his eyes 
 opened wide. "Do you think Papa- 
 day's happy there?" he asked eagerly. 
 
 "Yes, yes, I'm sure of it, Taddie 
 dear, your papa's happy now." 
 
 "O, I'm glad, so glad!" sighed the 
 little boy — "for Papa-day never was 
 happy here." 
 
 THE END 
 
 101