S. H. Jones ("Sam" Jones, as he was known) was another well-known character in Springfield, as well as throughout Illinois. He was a warm friend and supporter of mine in the early days.
James C. Robinson was twice elected to Congress. He and Governor Oglesby were opponents for State Senator from the district. A little story in this connection occurs to me, which Oglesby used to tell.
When running for the Senate, before the Civil War, Oglesby and Robinson travelled together over the district. The settlements in those days were very scattering, and as the rivals were good friends personally they agreed to go together and hold joint discussions. They held one every day, the understanding being that if either desired to talk anywhere else aside from the joint debate he had a right to do so.
At one place Robinson announced that he would make a speech in the courthouse. A large crowd greeted him, which he captured with one of his characteristic speeches. Oglesby was sitting in front of the hotel across the way by himself, and listening to the cheering. He became very uneasy lest Robinson should get the best of it.
Now it chanced that Oglesby could play a violin splendidly. A man came along with one in his hands, and Oglesby asked if he might borrow it for the evening, to which the man consented. He commenced playing in order to attract the crowd from Robinson, and in order to break up his meeting. He succeeded; one by one they came out of the courthouse, and when Oglesby swung into a stirring dance measure the crowd at once responded with an impromptu hoe-down.
Robinson, seeing his audience dwindling, quit speaking and came out himself. Taking in the situation at a glance, he pulled off his shoes and became the most enthusiastic participant, dancing first with one and then with another of his late hearers, winning them all back again and completely turning the tables against his adroit opponent.
This is a good illustration of early campaigning in the country districts of Illinois. There was the utmost good feeling, and a disposition to let the best man win.
Among the early men and incidents connected with the practice of the law in Springfield, in the sixties, and before and during the time I was Speaker of the House, the Rev. Peter Cartwright must not be forgotten. He was one of the prominent figures in the pioneer educational and religious life of the Western country, more particularly of Illinois. He was a wonderful type of the times— a man of great courage, of considerable ability, and most remarkable in his capacity as a minister of the Gospel. He believed in camp- meetings; and when Peter Cartwright conducted a camp-meeting the loafers and rowdies inclined to interrupt the worship knew they would invite trouble if they ventured to interfere with or annoy the meeting. He was ready, not only to preach the Gospel but to fight, as sometimes he felt it his duty to do. No man dared in the presence of Cartwright to interrupt the meeting, as in those times irresponsible parties hanging about such gatherings frequently attempted to do in his absence.
Cartwright was not only an able pioneer preacher, but he was a loyal Democrat, too. He believed in Democracy, and was ready to run on the Democratic ticket, or to advance the party's cause in any other way. He was nominated for Congress as against Mr. Lincoln, the only time Lincoln ever ran for Congress.
Some persons disapproved of Cartwright's activity in politics, questioning the propriety of it on the part of a minister. Among these was Judge Treat, then our Federal Judge in the Springfield district. The story goes that the Judge signified to Mr. Lincoln his dislike of Cartwright, and his willingness to lend a helping hand in case Lincoln should need help and would let him know the fact. He thought he could get a good many votes for Lincoln, and the latter thanked him and told him if he found need of his help he would let him know. On one occasion during the campaign Lincoln was walking along one side of the street when he saw Treat on the farther side, proceeding in the opposite direction, toward his home. Lincoln called out to him: "Judge, I won't need your help. I have got the better of the old Methodist preacher, and I will beat him; so I will not have to call upon you for help." This so embarrassed the judge, lest some one should hear what was being said, that he almost ran, in his hurry to get into his house.