On the loss of a first love, one Annie Rutledge--a name he said he always loved--his friends were alarmed for his health and sanity. They took away the knife every man carried in the West, and discovered it was the obligatory one presented to the ugliest man and not to be disposed of otherwise than to one still homelier.
There is a record of the clerical gentleman to whom Lincoln was justified in offering it, who died with it in his uncontested possession, in Toronto.
As is the custom, an office-holder going out of his seat calls on the President with his successor to transfer the seals and other tokens. The unlucky man enumerated the good qualities of his substitute, and was surprised that Mr. Lincoln should dilate upon his with excessive regrets that he was going to leave the service. This Mr. Addison was indeed a first-class servant, but uncommonly ill-favored.
"Yes, Addison," said the chief, "I have no doubt that Mr. Price is a pearl of price, but--but nothing can compensate me for the loss of you, for, when you retire, I shall be the homeliest man in the government!"
BETTER LOOKING THAN EXPECTED.
(Related by the President to Grace Greenwood):
"As I recall it, the story, told very simply and tersely, but with inimitable drollery, ran that a certain honest old farmer, visiting the capital for the first time, was taken by the member of Congress for his 'deestrict,' to some large gathering or entertainment. He went in order to see the President. Unfortunately, Mr. Lincoln did not appear; and the congressman, being a bit of a wag, and not liking to have his constituent disappointed, designated Mr. R., of Minnesota. He was a gentleman of a particularly round and rubicund countenance. The worthy agriculturist, greatly astonished, exclaimed:
"Is that old Abe? Well, I du declare! He's a better-lookin' man than I expected to see; but it do seem as how his troubles have druv him to drink!'"
LINCOLN AND SUPERSTITION.
Childhood's impressions are ineffaceable, though they may be for a time set aside. Abraham Lincoln with all his lofty mind, acquiesced in the vulgar belief when he took his son Robert to have the benefit of a "madstone," at a distance from where the boy was dog-bitten. He made the pact with the Divine Power as to the Emancipation Act, with a sincerity which robbed worldly wisdom of its sting, and he had dreams and visions like a seer.