Lincoln's Yarns and Stories [141]
from the minds of the living erased.
"The hand of the king, that the sceptre hath borne, The brow of the priest, that the mitre hath worn, The eye of the sage, and the heart of the brave, Are hidden and lost in the depths of the grave.
"The peasant, whose lot was to sow and to reap, The herdsman, who climbed with his goats up the steep; The beggar, who wandered in search of his bread, Have faded away like the grass that we tread.
"The saint, who enjoyed the communion of heaven, The sinner, who dared to remain unforgiven; The wise and the foolish, the guilty and just, Have quietly mingled their bones in the dust.
"So the multitude goes--like the flower or the weed That withers away to let others succeed; So the multitude comes--even those we behold, To repeat every tale that has often been told:
"For we are the same our fathers have been; We see the same sights our fathers have seen; We drink the same stream, we view the same sun, And run the same course our fathers have run.
"The thoughts we are thinking, our fathers would think; >From the death we are shrinking, our fathers would shrink; To the life we are clinging, they also would cling-- But it speeds from us all like a bird on the wing.
"They loved--but the story we cannot unfold; They scorned--but the heart of the haughty is cold; They grieved--but no wail from their slumber will come; They joyed--but the tongue of their gladness is dumb.
"They died--aye, they died--and we things that are now, That walk on the turf that lies o'er their brow, And make in their dwellings a transient abode, Meet the things that they met on their pilgrimage road.
"Yea! hope and despondency, pleasure and pain, Are mingled together in sunshine and rain; And the smile and the tear, the song and the dirge, Still follow each other, like surge upon surge.
"'Tis the wink of an eye,--'tis the draught of a breath;-- >From the blossom of health to the paleness of death, >From the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud:-- Oh! why should the spirit of mortal be proud?"
FIVE-LEGGED CALF.
President Lincoln had great doubt as to his right to emancipate the slaves under the War power. In discussing the question, he used to like the case to that of the boy who, when asked how many legs his calf would have if he called its tail a leg, replied, "five," to which the prompt response was made that calling the tail a leg would not make it a leg.
A STAGE-COACH STORY.
The following is told by Thomas H. Nelson, of Terre Haute, Indiana, who was appointed minister to Chili by Lincoln:
Judge Abram Hammond, afterwards Governor of Indiana, and myself arranged to go from Terre Haute to Indianapolis in a stage-coach.
As we stepped in we discovered that the entire back seat was occupied by a long, lank individual, whose head seemd to protrude from one end of the coach and his feet from the other. He was the sole occupant, and was sleeping soundly. Hammond slapped him familiarly on the shoulder, and asked him if he had chartered the coach that day.
"Certainly not," and he at once took the front seat, politely giving us the place of honor and comfort. An odd-looking fellow he was, with a twenty-five cent hat, without vest or cravat. Regarding him as a good subject for merriment, we perpetrated several jokes.
He took them all with utmost innocence and good nature, and joined in the laugh, although at his own expense.
After an astounding display of wordy pyrotechnics, the dazed and bewildered stranger asked, "What will be the upshot of this comet business?"
Late in the evening we reached Indianapolis, and hurried to Browning's hotel, losing sight of the stranger altogether.
We retired to our room to brush our clothes. In a few minutes I descended to the portico, and there descried our long, gloomy fellow traveler in the center of an admiring group of lawyers, among whom were Judges McLean and Huntington, Albert S. White, and Richard W. Thompson, who seemed to be amused and interested in a story he was telling. I inquired of Browning, the landlord, who he was.
"The hand of the king, that the sceptre hath borne, The brow of the priest, that the mitre hath worn, The eye of the sage, and the heart of the brave, Are hidden and lost in the depths of the grave.
"The peasant, whose lot was to sow and to reap, The herdsman, who climbed with his goats up the steep; The beggar, who wandered in search of his bread, Have faded away like the grass that we tread.
"The saint, who enjoyed the communion of heaven, The sinner, who dared to remain unforgiven; The wise and the foolish, the guilty and just, Have quietly mingled their bones in the dust.
"So the multitude goes--like the flower or the weed That withers away to let others succeed; So the multitude comes--even those we behold, To repeat every tale that has often been told:
"For we are the same our fathers have been; We see the same sights our fathers have seen; We drink the same stream, we view the same sun, And run the same course our fathers have run.
"The thoughts we are thinking, our fathers would think; >From the death we are shrinking, our fathers would shrink; To the life we are clinging, they also would cling-- But it speeds from us all like a bird on the wing.
"They loved--but the story we cannot unfold; They scorned--but the heart of the haughty is cold; They grieved--but no wail from their slumber will come; They joyed--but the tongue of their gladness is dumb.
"They died--aye, they died--and we things that are now, That walk on the turf that lies o'er their brow, And make in their dwellings a transient abode, Meet the things that they met on their pilgrimage road.
"Yea! hope and despondency, pleasure and pain, Are mingled together in sunshine and rain; And the smile and the tear, the song and the dirge, Still follow each other, like surge upon surge.
"'Tis the wink of an eye,--'tis the draught of a breath;-- >From the blossom of health to the paleness of death, >From the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud:-- Oh! why should the spirit of mortal be proud?"
FIVE-LEGGED CALF.
President Lincoln had great doubt as to his right to emancipate the slaves under the War power. In discussing the question, he used to like the case to that of the boy who, when asked how many legs his calf would have if he called its tail a leg, replied, "five," to which the prompt response was made that calling the tail a leg would not make it a leg.
A STAGE-COACH STORY.
The following is told by Thomas H. Nelson, of Terre Haute, Indiana, who was appointed minister to Chili by Lincoln:
Judge Abram Hammond, afterwards Governor of Indiana, and myself arranged to go from Terre Haute to Indianapolis in a stage-coach.
As we stepped in we discovered that the entire back seat was occupied by a long, lank individual, whose head seemd to protrude from one end of the coach and his feet from the other. He was the sole occupant, and was sleeping soundly. Hammond slapped him familiarly on the shoulder, and asked him if he had chartered the coach that day.
"Certainly not," and he at once took the front seat, politely giving us the place of honor and comfort. An odd-looking fellow he was, with a twenty-five cent hat, without vest or cravat. Regarding him as a good subject for merriment, we perpetrated several jokes.
He took them all with utmost innocence and good nature, and joined in the laugh, although at his own expense.
After an astounding display of wordy pyrotechnics, the dazed and bewildered stranger asked, "What will be the upshot of this comet business?"
Late in the evening we reached Indianapolis, and hurried to Browning's hotel, losing sight of the stranger altogether.
We retired to our room to brush our clothes. In a few minutes I descended to the portico, and there descried our long, gloomy fellow traveler in the center of an admiring group of lawyers, among whom were Judges McLean and Huntington, Albert S. White, and Richard W. Thompson, who seemed to be amused and interested in a story he was telling. I inquired of Browning, the landlord, who he was.