and he spent the whole afternoon reading it.  His speech to the jury was long remembered.  The whole court-room was in tears as he closed with these words:  “Gentlemen of the jury.  Time rolls by.  The heroes of ’76 have passed away.  They are encamped on the other shore.  This soldier has gone to his rest, and now, crippled, blinded, and broken, his widow comes to you and to me, gentlemen of the jury, to right her wrongs.  She was not always as you see her now.  Once her step was elastic.  Her face was fair.  Her voice was as sweet as any that rang in the mountains of old Virginia.  Now she is old.  She is poor and defenceless.  Out here on the prairies of Illinois, hundreds of miles from the scenes of her childhood, she appeals to you and to me who enjoy the privileges achieved for us by the patriots of the Revolution for our sympathetic aid and manly protection.  I have but one question to ask you, gentlemen of the jury.  Shall we befriend her?” During the speech the defendant sat huddled up in the court-room, writhing under the lash of Lincoln’s tongue.  The jury returned a verdict for every cent that Lincoln had asked.  He became the old lady’s surety for costs, paid her hotel bill and sent her home rejoicing.  He made no charges for his own or his partner’s services.  A few days afterwards Mr. Herndon picked up a little scrap of paper in the office.  He looked at it a moment, and burst into a roar of laughter.  It was Lincoln’s notes for the argument of this case.  They were unique:—­“No contract—­Not professional services—­Unreasonable charges—­Money retained by Deft not given by Pl’ff.—­Revolutionary War—­Describe Valley Forge—­Ice—­Soldiers’ bleeding feet—­Pl’ff’s husband—­Soldiers leaving home for the army—­Skin Def’t—­Close.”

In his Autobiography, Joseph Jefferson tells how he visited Springfield with a theatrical company in the early days (1839) and planned to open a theatrical season in that godly town.  But “a religious revival was in progress, and the fathers of the church not only launched forth against us in their sermons, but got the city to pass a new law enjoining a heavy license against our ‘unholy’ calling.  I forget the amount, but it was large enough to be prohibitory.”  The company had begun the building of a new theatre; and naturally the situation was perplexing.  In the midst of their trouble, says Mr. Jefferson, “a young lawyer called on the Managers.  He had heard of the injustice, and offered, if they would place the matter in his hands, to have the license taken off,—­declaring that he only wanted to see fair play, and he would accept no fee whether he failed or succeeded.  The case was brought up before the council.  The young lawyer began his harangue.  He handled the subject with tact, skill, and humor, tracing the history of the drama from the time when Thespis acted in a cart, to the stage of to-day.  He illustrated his speech with a number of anecdotes, and kept the council in a roar of laughter.  His good humor prevailed, and the exorbitant tax was taken off.  This young lawyer was very popular in Springfield, and was honored and beloved by all who knew him; and after the time of which I write he held rather an important position in the Government of the United States.  He now lies buried in Springfield, under a monument commemorating his greatness and his virtues,—­and his name was Abraham Lincoln.”