The trader looked up surprised, while several others near by, smiled a faint comprehension as to the state of affairs.
"Why, young man," said the trader, "that is my number, and mine is a single room."
"I beg pardon," stammered Abe, conscious that he had betrayed rusticity and ignorance; but not knowing exactly how to extricate himself, the good-hearted trader came to his aid—
"Were you ever in the city before?" asked he.
"Never before."
"Well, then, in memory of your advent, it shall be No. 11 too," and he quietly pushed the bottle across the table. So agreeable was he that Abe rallied, and the second bottle followed the fate of the first. On renewing the conversation after dinner, the trader was satisfied that Abe had 'lots' of 'horse sense,' but little of worldly experience, and he friendlily invited him to go out with him as a clerk; but, Abe declined. Had he gone—what? Perhaps he might have become a respectable Indian trader—perhaps he never had been elected President, and perhaps we would have had no rebellion.
A Severe Retort.
Uncle Abe took a great liking to the late Col. Ellsworth, and afterwards did him the honor of making a Colonel of him. The rebel Jackson did the rest, but enough of that. Many of our readers will recall the slim, spruce figure of Col. Ellsworth as he paraded the streets of Springfield, dressed in a unique Zouave uniform, a mere boy in appearance. He was full of animal spirits. He and Bob O'Lincoln were cutting up didoes in the Law office of Lincoln and Hornden, which greatly annoyed Uncle Abe, and he gently reproved them. Bob, a little nettled, replied by quoting the common couplet: