return of the money, but without success.
Then suit was brought.
The day before the trial I hunted up for Lincoln
, at his request, a history of the Revolutionary War
, of which he read a good portion.
He told me to remain during the trial until I had heard his address to the jury.
“For,” said he, “I am going to skin Wright
, and get that money back.”
The only witness we introduced was the old lady, who through her tears told her story.
In his speech to the jury, Lincoln
recounted the causes leading to the outbreak of the Revolutionary struggle, and then drew a vivid picture of the hardships of Valley Forge
, describing with minuteness the men, barefooted and with bleeding feet, creeping over the ice. As he reached that point in his speech wherein he narrated the hardened action of the defendant in fleecing the old woman of her pension his eyes flashed, and throwing aside his handkerchief, which he held in his right hand, he fairly launched into him. His speech for the next five or ten minutes justified the declaration of Davis
, that he was “hurtful in denunciation and merciless in castigation.”
There was no rule of court to restrain him in his argument, and I never, either on the stump or on other occasions in court, saw him so wrought up. Before he closed, he drew an ideal picture of the plaintiff's husband, the deceased soldier, parting with his wife at the threshold of their home, and kissing their little babe in the cradle, as he started for the war. “Time rolls by,” he said, in conclusion; “the heroes of ‘76 have passed away and are encamped on the other ”