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a “loafer.”
He assured those with whom he came in contact that he was a piece of floating driftwood; that after the winter of deep snow, he had come down the river with the freshet; borne along by the swelling waters, and aimlessly floating about, he had accidentally lodged at New Salem.
Looking back over his history we are forced to conclude that Providence or chance, or whatever power is responsible for it, could not have assigned him to a more favorable refuge.
His introduction to the citizens of New Salem, as Mentor Graham1 the school-teacher tells us, was in the capacity of clerk of an election board.
Graham furnishes ample testimony of the facility, fairness, and honesty which characterized the new clerk's work, and both teacher and clerk were soon bound together by the warmest of ties.
During the day, when votes were coming in slowly, Lincoln began to entertain the crowd at the polls with a few attempts at story-telling.
My cousin, J. R. Herndon, was present and enjoyed this feature of the election with the keenest relish.
He never forgot some of Lincoln's yarns and was fond of repeating them in after years.
The recital of a few stories by Lincoln easily established him in the good graces of all New Salem.
Perhaps he did not know it at the time, but he had used the weapon nearest at hand and had won.2
1 Nicolay and Hay in the Century make the mistake of spelling this man's name “Menton” Graham. In all the letters and papers from him he signs himself “Mentor” in every case.--J. W. W.
2 “In the afternoon, as things were dragging a little, Lincoln the new man, began to spin out a stock of Indiana yarns. One that amused me more than any other he called the lizard story. “The meeting-house,” he said, “was in the woods and quite a distance from any other house. It was only used once a month. The preacher — an old line Baptist — was dressed in coarse linen pantaloons, and shirt of the same material. The pants, manufactured after the old fashion, with baggy legs and a flap in front, were made to attach to his frame without the aid of suspenders. A single button held his shirt in position, and that was at the collar. He rose up in the pulpit and with a loud voice announced his text thus: ‘I am the Christ, whom I shall represent to-day.’ About this time a little blue lizard ran up underneath his roomy pantaloons. The old preacher, not wishing to interrupt the steady flow of his sermon, slapped away on his legs, expecting to arrest the intruder; but his efforts were unavailing, and the little fellow kept on ascending higher and higher. Continuing the sermon, the preacher slyly loosened the central button which graced the waist-band of his pantaloons and with a kick off came that easy-fitting garment. But meanwhile Mr. Lizard had passed the equatorial line of waist-band and was calmly exploring that part of the preacher's anatomy which lay underneath the back of his shirt. Things were now growing interesting, but the sermon was still grinding on. The next movement on the preacher's part was for the collar button, and with one sweep of his arm off came the tow linen shirt. The congregation sat for an instant as if dazed: at length one old lady in the rear of the room rose up and glancing at the excited object in the pulpit, shouted at the top of her voice: ‘If you represent Christ then I'm done with the Bible.’ ”” -J. R. Herndon, Ms., July 2, 1865.
The Herndon's Lincoln Pubishing Company, Springfield, Ill., 1888.
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