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“But It’s not all the Truth”
In the Lincoln family, Matilda Johnston, or Tilda, as her mother called her, was the youngest child. After Abe had reached the estate of manhood, she was still in her ‘teens. It was Abe’s habit each morning one fall, to leave the house early, his axe on his shoulder, to clear a piece of forest which lay some distance from home. He frequently carried his dinner with him, and remained all day. Several times the young and frolicsome ‘Tilda sought to accompany him, but was each time restrained by her mother, who firmly forbade a repetition of the attempt. One morning the girl escaped maternal vigilance, and slyly followed after the young woodman, who had gone some distance from the house, and was already hidden from view behind the dense growth of trees and underbrush. Following a deer-path, he went singing along, little dreaming of the girl in close pursuit. The latter gained on him, and when within a few feet, darted forward and with a cat-like leap landed squarely on his back. With one hand on each shoulder, she planted her knee in the middle of his back, and dexterously brought the powerful frame of the rail-splitter to the ground. It was a trick familiar to every schoolboy. Abe, taken by surprise, was unable at first to turn around or learn who his assailant was. In the fall to the ground, the sharp edge of the axe imbedded itself in the young lady’s ankle, inflicting a wound from which there came a generous effusion of blood. With sundry pieces of cloth torn from Abe’s shirt and the young lady’s dress, the flow of blood was stanched, and the wound rudely bound up. The girl’s cries having lessened somewhat, her tall companion, looking at her in blank astonishment, knowing what an in-fraction the whole thing was of her mother’s oft-repeated instructions, asked; “‘Tilda, what are you going to tell mother about getting hurt?” “Tell her I did it with the axe,” she sobbed. “That will be the truth, won’t it?” To which last inquiry Abe manfully responded, “Yes, that’s the truth, but it’s not all the truth. Tell the whole truth,’Tilda, and trust your good mother for the rest.”
By William H. Herndon，Jesse W. Weik “Herndon’s Lincoln: A True Story of a Great Life” Herndon-016-009-30
“Read them Over and Over Again”
How he contrived at the age of fourteen to absorb information is thus told by John Hanks: “When Abe and I returned to the house from work he would go to the cupboard, snatch a piece of corn bread, sit down, take a book, cock his legs up as high as his head, and read. We grubbed, plowed, mowed, and worked together barefooted in the field. Whenever Abe had a chance in the field while at work, or at the house, he would stop and read.” He kept the Bible and “sop’s Fables” always within reach, and read them over and over again.
By William H. Herndon，Jesse W. Weik “Herndon’s Lincoln: A True Story of a Great Life” Herndon-016-009-48
“Leave them their Guns to Shoot Crows With”
We anchored a short time afterward, and were glad to be looking on the quiet wharves at City Point. That evening the sailors and marines were sent out to guard and escort in some prisoners, numbering about a thousand, more or less, who were placed on board a large transport lying in the stream. The President expressing a desire to go on shore, I ordered the barge and went with him.
We had to pass the transport with the prisoners; they all rushed to the side with eager curiosity; all wanted to see the Northern President. They seemed perfectly content; every man had a hunk of meat and a piece of bread in his hand, and was doing his best to dispose of it.
“That’s old Abe,” said one of them. “Give the old fellow three cheers,” said another; while a third called out, “Halloo, Abe, your bread and meat’s better than pop-corn.”
This was all good-natured and kindly. I could see no difference between them and our own men, except that they were ragged and attenuated from want of wholesome food. They were as happy a set of men as I ever saw; they could see their homes looming up before them in the distance, and knew the war was over.
“They will never shoulder a musket again in anger,” said the President, “and if Grant is wise he will leave them their guns to shoot crows with, and their horses to plow with; it would do no harm. “
Quoted in David Dixon Porter, Incidents and Anecdotes of the Civil War, pp. 312
“The President had some Quaint Remarks”
The President had originally proposed to come up on horseback, but I told him that “there was not a particle of danger from torpedoes; that I would have them all taken up.” When he saw them all on the bank he turned to me and said, “You must have been awful afraid of getting on that sergeant’s old horse again to risk all this.” We got down safe, however; there was not enough danger to make it interesting. The President had some quaint remarks about everything we saw, particularly about Dutch Gap, which, he said, “ought to have been commenced before the war – at least ten years. Then,” he said, “you might have had a chance of getting your gun-boats up that way. By the way, your friend the general wasn’t a ‘boss’ engineer. He was better at running cotton-mills. How many people did it cost for that jetty?” he asked. “One hundred and forty killed there as far as I can learn,” I answered. Then he went into a discussion of the generals of the war – what diflEiculties he had in making appointments, etc. He illustrated each case with a story.
Quoted in David D. Porter, Incidents and Anecdotes of the Civil War (New York: D. Appleton and Company, 1886), p. 309.
“He was as Guileless in some Respects as a Child”
In the strife between the North and the South there was no bitterness in Mr. Lincoln’s composition; he seemed to think only that he had an unpleasant duty to perform, and endeavored to perform it as smoothly as possible. He would, without doubt, have yielded a good deal to the South, only that he kept his duty constantly before his eyes, and that was the compass by which he steered at all times. The results of a battle pained him as much as if he was receiving the wounds himself, for I have often heard him express himself in pained accents while talking over some of the scenes of the war; he was not the man to assume a character for feelings he did not possess; he was as guileless in some respects as a child. How could one avoid liking such a man?
Quoted in David D. Porter, Incidents and Anecdotes of the Civil War (New York: D. Appleton and Company, 1886), p. 284.
“This was a Step from the Sublime”
There were three little kittens running about the hut in which the telegraph-office was situated. Mr. Lincoln picked them all up and put them on his little chart on the table. This was a step from the sublime, it is true, but it showed the feelings of the man at a moment when the fate of a nation was hanging in the scales. He could find time to look at God’s creatures and be solicitous for their comfort.
“There,” he said, “you poor, little, miserable creatures, what brought you into this camp of warriors? Where is your mother?”
“The mother is dead,” said the colonel.
“Then she can’t grieve for them as many a poor mother is grieving for the sons who have fallen in battle, and who will still grieve if this surrender does not take place without bloodshed. Ah, kitties, thank God you are cats, and can’t understand this terrible strife that is going on. There, now, go, my little friends,” he continued, wiping the dirt from their eyes with his handkerchief; “that is all I can do for you. Colonel, get them some milk, and don’t let them starve; there is too much starvation going on in this land anyhow; mitigate it when we can,”
Quoted in David D. Porter, Incidents and Anecdotes of the Civil War (New York: D. Appleton and Company, 1886), p. 286.
“He had a Load to Bear that Few Men could Carry”
I have not a particle of the bump of veneration on my head, but I saw more to admire in this man, more to reverence, than I had believed possible; He had a load to bear that few men could carry, yet he traveled on with it, foot-sore and weary, but without complaint; rather, on the contrary, cheering those who would faint on the roadside.
He was not a demonstrative man, so no one will ever know, amid all the trials he underwent, how much he had to contend with, and how often he was called upon to sacrifice his own opinions to those of others, who, he felt, did not know as much about matters at issue as he did himself. When he did surrender, it was always with a pleasant manner, winding up with a characteristic story.
Quoted in David D. Porter, Incidents and Anecdotes of the Civil War (New York: D. Appleton and Company, 1886), p. 284.
“He was One of the Most Interesting Men I ever Met”
To me he was one of the most interesting men I ever met; he had an originality about him which was peculiarly his own, and one felt, when with him, as if he could confide his dearest secret to him with absolute security against its betrayal. There, it might be said, was “God’s noblest work – an honest man,” and such he was, all through. I have not a particle of the bump of veneration on my head, but I saw more to admire in this man, more to reverence, than I had believed possible; he had a load to bear that few men could carry, yet he traveled on with it, foot-sore and weary, but without complaint; rather, on the contrary, cheering those who would faint on the roadside. He was not a demonstrative man, so no one will ever know, amid all the trials he underwent, how much he had to contend with, and how often he was called upon to sacrifice his own opinions to those of others, who, he felt, did not know as much about matters at issue as he did himself. When he did surrender, it was always with a pleasant manner, winding up with a characteristic story.
Quoted in David D. Porter, Incidents and Anecdotes of the Civil War (New York: D. Appleton and Company, 1886), p. 283.
“He was not at all Ashamed of”
I had often heard of the wonderful power of the President in telling anecdotes, but no one could form an adequate idea of his ability in this line unless he had been alone with him for ten days as I was. He had an illustration for everything, and if anything particular attracted his attention, he would say, “That reminds me of something that occurred when I was a lawyer in Illinois,” or, “when I was a boatman on the Mississippi.” He was not at all ashamed of any business he had ever been engaged in, because it was honest business, and he made an honest living by it; and he told me many stories of his earlier life, which were as creditable to him as anything he was engaged in while occupying a higher sphere.
Quoted in David D. Porter, Incidents and Anecdotes of the Civil War (New York: D. Appleton and Company, 1886), p. 283.
“He had an Illustration for Everything”
I had often heard of the wonderful power of the President in telling anecdotes, but no one could form an adequate idea of his ability in this line unless he had been alone with him for ten days as I was. He had an illustration for everything, and if anything particular attracted his attention, he would say, “That reminds me of something that occurred when I was a lawyer in Illinois,” or, “when I was a boatman on the Mississippi.” He was not at all ashamed of any business he had ever been engaged in, because it was honest business, and he made an honest living by it ; and he told me many stories of his earlier life, which were as creditable to him as anything he was engaged in while occupying a higher sphere.
Quoted in David D. Porter, Incidents and Anecdotes of the Civil War (New York: D. Appleton and Company, 1886), p. 282.