“There are quite a few Old Line Whigs, sir,” ventured Stephen, smiling.
“Joe,” said Mr. Lincoln, “did you ever hear Warfield's definition of an Old Line Whig?”
Mr. Medill had not.
“A man who takes his toddy regularly, and votes the Democratic ticket occasionally, and who wears ruffled shirts.”
Both of these gentlemen laughed, and two more in the seat behind, who had an ear to the conversation.
“But, sir,” said Stephen, seeing that he was expected to go on, “I think that the Republican party will gather a considerable strength there in another year or two. We have the material for powerful leaders in Mr. Blair and others” (Mr. Lincoln nodded at the name). “We are getting an ever increasing population from New England, mostly of young men who will take kindly to the new party.” And then he added, thinking of his pilgrimage the Sunday before: “South St. Louis is a solid mass of Germans, who are all antislavery. But they are very foreign still, and have all their German institutions.”
“The Turner Halls?” Mr. Lincoln surprised him by inquiring.
“Yes. And I believe that they drill there.”
“Then they will the more easily be turned into soldiers if the time should come,” said Mr. Lincoln. And he added quickly, “I pray that it may not.”
Stephen had cause to remember that observation, and the acumen it showed, long afterward.