“About a year after this, Mr. Lincoln was seeking to be nominated as a candidate for Congress.  Finding the writing of letters (at his dictation) to influential men in the different counties and even precincts of the district somewhat burdensome, I suggested printing circulars.  He objected, on the ground that a printed letter would not have the same effect that a written one would; the latter had the appearance of personality, it was more flattering to the receiver, and would more certainly gain his assistance, or at least his good-will.  In discussing the probabilities of his nomination, I remarked that there was so much unfairness, if not downright trickery, used that it appeared to me almost useless to seek a nomination without resort to similar means.  His reply was:  ’I want to be nominated; I would like to go to Congress; but if I cannot do so by fair means, I prefer to stay at home.’  He was nominated, and in the following fall was elected by a majority over three times as large as the district had ever before given.

“Mr. Lincoln, like many others in their callow days, scribbled verses; and so far as I was capable of judging, their quality was above the average.  It was accidentally that I learned this.  In arranging the books and papers in the office, I found two or three quires of letter-paper stitched together in book form, nearly filled with poetical effusions in Mr. Lincoln’s handwriting, and evidently original.  I looked through them somewhat hurriedly, and when Lincoln came in I showed him the manuscript, asking him if it was his.  His response was, ’Where did you find it?’ and rolling it up, he put it in his coat-tail pocket; and I saw it no more.  Afterwards, in speaking of the matter to Mr. Lincoln’s partner, he said, ’I believe he has at times scribbled some verses; but he is, I think, somewhat unwilling to have it known.’”

Lincoln’s love of poetry is further shown by the following incident, related by a gentleman who visited the old law-office of Lincoln & Herndon, at Springfield.  He says:  “I took up carelessly, as I stood thinking, a handsome octavo volume lying on the office table.  It opened so persistently at one place, as I handled it, that I looked to see what it was, and found that somebody had thoroughly thumbed the pages of ’Don Juan.’  I knew Mr. Herndon was not a man to dwell on it, and it darted through my mind that perhaps it had been a favorite with Lincoln.  ’Did Mr. Lincoln ever read this book?’ I said, hurriedly.  ‘That book!’ said Herndon, looking up from his writing and taking it out of my hand.  ’Oh, yes; he read it often.  It is the office copy.’” Lincoln was so fond of the book that he kept it ready to his hand.