When the case came up in Kankakee, during the autumn of 1855, counsel for the plaintiff secured a change of venue to Champaign County. This greatly troubled Father Chiniquy. The heavy expense—far beyond his means—of bringing witnesses and lawyers to a distant tribunal, as well as the perils of a trial among strangers appalled him. He was leaving the court-room cast down by these prospects, when an unknown well-wisher, hurrying up with eager words of sympathy, urged that Abraham Lincoln be retained to take part in the defense.
“But,” queried the priest, “who is that Abraham Lincoln? I never heard of that man before.”
To which the other responded: “Abraham Lincoln is the best lawyer and the most honest man we have in Illinois.”
Returning to where his counsel were still in consultation, Chiniquy asked their opinion of the suggestion. They warmly approved, so he accompanied this new-found friend to the telegraph office. In a brief exchange of messages over the Springfield wire, Lincoln promised his aid. Then the stranger, still preserving his incognito, paid the operator, gave the priest a few further words of encouragement, and hastened away. He had not been gone long before Spink entered the office, for the purpose of retaining that same attorney, but it was too late.
At the May term of the following year, when the trial opened in Urbana, Mr. Lincoln, according to agreement, appeared for the defense. He aroused the admiration of his client by the skill with which he both met the evidence of the prosecution and marshaled the witnesses on their own side. As most of the persons concerned were French Canadians, the testimony had to be taken chiefly through an interpreter. This drew the proceedings out to tedious lengths, and increased the labors of counsel not a little. The trial was, however, slowly approaching its close when one of the jurymen appeared to be in great distress.
“What is that juror crying about?” asked Judge Davis, who presided.
“My child is dying,” was the sobbing answer.
A neighbor, coming into court had, unperceived by any one, whispered these tidings to the unfortunate father. His grief so moved the judge that, after a few questions addressed to the newcomer, he said to the juryman: “You’re discharged,—go at once.”
Then, turning to the counsel in the case, His Honor inquired: “Gentlemen, will you proceed with the eleven jurymen?”
After both sides had consulted, Lincoln responded, “We will”; but Norton replied, “We decline.” So the jury had to be discharged, and the case was continued to the October term.