“Boys,” he asked, “did I ever tell you about Sam’l, the old Quaker’s apprentice?”

There was a chorus of “No’s” and “Go ahead, Abe?” The young man who was writing dropped his pencil.  As for Stephen, this long, uncouth man of the plains was beginning to puzzle him.  The face, with its crude features and deep furrows, relaxed into intense soberness.  And Mr. Lincoln began his story with a slow earnestness that was truly startling, considering the subject.

“This apprentice, Judge, was just such an incurable as you.” (Laughter.) “And Sam’l, when he wanted to, could get out as many cusses in a second as his anvil shot sparks.  And the old man used to wrastle with him nights and speak about punishment, and pray for him in meeting.  But it didn’t do any good.  When anything went wrong, Sam’l had an appropriate word for the occasion.  One day the old man got an inspiration when he was scratching around in the dirt for an odd-sized iron.

“‘Sam’l,’ says he, ‘I want thee.’

“Sam’l went, and found the old man standing over a big rat hole, where the rats came out to feed on the scraps.

“‘Sam’l,’ says he, ‘fetch the tongs.’

“Sam’l fetched the tongs.

“‘Now, Sam’l,’ says the old man, ’thou wilt sit here until thou hast a rat.  Never mind thy dinner.  And when thou hast him, if I hear thee swear, thou wilt sit here until thou hast another.  Dost thou mind?’”

Here Mr. Lincoln seized two cotton umbrellas, rasped his chair over the bare boor into a corner of the room, and sat hunched over an imaginary rat hole, for all the world like a gawky Quaker apprentice.  And this was a candidate for the Senate of the United States, who on the morrow was to meet in debate the renowned and polished Douglas!

“Well,” Mr. Lincoln continued, “that was on a Monday, I reckon, and the boys a-shouting to have their horses shod.  Maybe you think they didn’t have some fun with Sam’l.  But Sam’l sat there, and sat there, and sat there, and after a while the old man pulled out his dinner-pail.  Sam’l never opened his mouth.  First thing you know, snip went the tongs.”  Mr. Lincoln turned gravely around.  “What do you reckon Sam’l said, Judge?”

The Judge, at random, summoned up a good one, to the delight of the audience.

“Judge,” said Mr. Lincoln, with solemnity, “I reckon that’s what you’d have said.  Sam’l never said a word, and the old man kept on eating his dinner.  One o’clock came, and the folks began to drop in again, but Sam’l, he sat there.  ’Long towards night the boys collected ’round the door.  They were getting kind of interested.  Sam’l, he never looked up.”  Here Mr. Lincoln bent forward a little, and his voice fell to a loud, drawling whisper.  “First thing you know, here come the whiskers peeping up, then the pink eyes a—­blinking at the forge, then—!”

“Suddenly he brought the umbrellas together with whack.

“‘By God,’ yells Sam’l, ‘I have thee at last!’”