The judges of the Supreme Court thought that a great mistake had been made; and one of them, who in later years was one of Mr. Douglas’s warmest friends, did not hesitate to say that the election was wrong.  “What business”, asked he, “has this boy with such an office?  He is no lawyer, and has no books.”  Indeed, he met with no little opposition from his brethren at the bar, but none that in any way impeded his progress in the affections of the people, or disheartened him in his efforts after loftier place.  Judge Morton relates, that at no time was Douglas found unprepared.  “His indictments were always properly drawn, his evidence complete, and his arguments logical.”  Before a jury he was in his element.  There he could indulge in story-telling, in special pleading, and in all the intricate devices which beguile sober men of their senses, and prove black white or good evil.  From judge to jury, from the highest practitioner to the lowest pettifogger, there soon came to be but one impression.  He was acknowledged to be the champion of the Illinois bar.

His career upon the bench, to which he was soon after elevated, was brilliant, because energetic, and successful, because he never permitted contingencies to thwart a predetermination, and because that coolness and grit which enabled him to whip a second sneering boy while he was yet a youth had become a settled trait of his character.  It was during the sitting of his court, that the notorious Joe Smith was to be tried for some offence against the people of the State.  Mob-law had taken matters somewhat under its charge in the West; and the populace, fearing that Smith, in this particular instance, might manage to slip from the hands of justice, determined to take him from the court-house and hang him.  They even went so far as to erect a gallows in the yard, and, having entered the court-room, demanded from the sheriff the person of the prisoner.  Judge Douglas was in his seat; the room was filled with the infuriated mob and its sympathizers; Smith sat pale and trembling in his box; while the sheriff, after vainly attempting to quell the disturbance, fell powerless and half-fainting on the steps.  “Sheriff,” shouted the judge, “clear the court!” It was easier said than done.  Five hundred determined men are not to be thwarted by a coward, and such the sheriff proved.  It was a trying moment.  The life of Smith per se was not worth saving, but the dignity of the court must be upheld, and Douglas saw at a glance that he had but a moment in which to do it.  “Mr. Harris,” said he, addressing a huge and sinewy Kentuckian, “I appoint you sheriff of this court.  Select your deputies.  Clear this court-house.  Do it, and do it now.”  He had chosen the right man.  Right and left fell the foremost of the mob; some were pitched from the windows, others jumped thence of their own accord; and soon the entire crowd, convinced of the judge’s determination to maintain order, rushed pell-mell from