“I Reckon It’s him”
Only seventeen days from the incident narrated just now, the National Convention met at Philadelphia to nominate a national ticket, whose nominees should be inimical to the further spread of human slavery.
At the same time, an extra session of the Circuit Court of Champaign County convened at Urbana, Illinois, to dispose of a large mass of unfinished business. Judge Davis held the court, and Lincoln, having a few cases to try, attended.
At the Judge’s request, I secured a room for Lincoln, him and myself at the American House, kept by one John Dunaway. This primitive hostelry had three front entrances from the street, but not a single hall down-stairs; one of these entrances led directly into the ladies’ parlor and from it an entrance was obtained to the dining-room, and also from another corner a flight of stairs conducted us to our room. Close by the front and dining-room doors was kept a gong which our vulgar boniface was wont to beat vigorously, as a prelude to meals; he standing in the doorway immediately under our windows; and thereby causing us great annoyance.
This term of court was extremely prosaic, having for trial cases meagre both in amount and incident, tried usually by the court without the aid of a jury.
The weather was dry and hot: our surroundings were not conducive to comfort, and I don’t recollect to have ever attended a more uninteresting term of court.
The way we appropriated the news was thus: The Chicago Press used to reach town by the noon mail. Lincoln and Davis would go to the room direct from court, while I would go to the postoffice and gef Judge Cunningham’s paper. I would then read the news to them in our room.
While coming in one day with the paper I met Dunaway, our host, coming down from our room, where he had been and still was searching anxiously for his gong, which some ruthless hand had, alas, abstracted. When I had reached the room I was in the presence of the culprit. Lincoln sat awkwardly in a chair tilted up after his fashion, looking amused, silly and guilty, as if he had done something ridiculous, funny and reprehensible.
The Judge was equally amused; but said to him: “Now, Lincoln, that is a shame. Poor Dunaway is the most distressed being. You must put that back,” etc., etc.
It seems that Lincoln, in passing through the dining-room, had seen the offending and noisy instrument; and in a mischievous freak had secreted it between the top and false bottom of a center table, and where no one would have thought of looking for it. But he and I immediately repaired to the dining-room and while I held the two contiguous doors fast Lincoln restored the gong to its accustomed place, after which he bounded up the stairs, two steps at a time, I following.
I think it was on that very day — if not it was on the next day, at any rate it was on Thursday, June 19th, I read from the Chicago paper the following: “John C, Fremont was nominated for President on the first ballot. All the New England States went bodily for Fremont, except eleven votes for McLean. New York gave 93 for Fremont.” Next day at noon I was on hand with the paper again, from which I read the following, viz.: “The convention then proceeded to an informal ballot for Vice-President, which resulted as follows: Dayton, 259; Lincoln, 110; Ford, 7; King, 9; Banks, 29; Sumner, 30; Collamer, 15; Johnson, 2; Pennington, 7; Carey, 3. Mr. Eliot, of Massachusetts, withdrew the names of Sumner, Wilson and Banks at their requests. Wilmot’s name was then withdrawn. The motion was then carried to proceed to ‘a final ballot. Dayton was then unanimously nominated for Vice-President with the following exceptions: New York, Pennsylvania and Connecticut 20 for Lincoln,” etc. Davis and I were greatly excited, but Lincoln was phlegmatic, listless and indifferent: his only remark was: “I reckon that ain’t me; there’s another great man in Massachusetts named Lincoln, and I reckon it’s him.”
Next day I got the paper, as usual, and saw, not only that it was our Lincoln, but learned what remarks were made in the convention. The Judge and I were especially incensed at Palmer’s reply to a question proposed, it being that we could carry Illinois either with or without Lincoln. The inquiry was made about Lincoln: “Will he fight ?” Lincoln betrayed no other feeling except that of amusement, at the sole qualification demanded.
I may observe, that we had not expected Lincoln to be a candidate at this time; all talk about his candidacy was abstract, and not concrete as yet: our favorite was Judge McLean.
The succeeding day I got the paper early and started to court with it before its adjournment. I met Lincoln at the west gate of the Court House square, quite alone, coming from court, which had not, even then, adjourned. He was grave, gloomy, thoughtful and abstrasted. I handed him the paper, which contained a wood cut of Fremont, and remarked: “It’s a shame for a man with such a head as that to beat Judge McLean.” Lincoln took the paper quite mechanically, and looked at it for a moment with no show of interest, and then handed it back, with the remark: “I don’t see anything wrong about that head.” I felt rebuked, for my remark was really unjust; but looking again, I said, handing him back the paper, “I think that a man who parts his hair in the middle, like a woman, ain’t fit to be President.” He took the paper again, quite mechanically, looked at the picture for a moment, and then, with no remark at all, handed it back, and resumed his walk ; gloomy and abstracted.
A day or two later he was ready to return home. He had collected $25 or $30 for that term’s business thus far, and one of our clients owed him $10, which he felt disappointed at not being able to collect; so I gave him a check for that amount, and went with him to the bank to collect it. The cashier, T. S. Hubbard, who paid it, is still living in Urbaua and will probably remember it. I do not remember to have seen him happier than when he had got his little earnings together, being less than §40, as I now recollect it, and had his carpet-bag packed, ready to start home.
Quoted in Henry Clay Whitney, Life on the Circuit with Lincoln, introduction and notes by Paul M. Angle (Caldwell, Idaho: The Caxon Printers, 1940), pp.78