you are to deliver this envelope into the
hands of Mr. Abraham Lincoln, of the law firm of Lincoln & Herndon."

"Abraham Lincoln!" cried Stephen, rising and straddling his chair. "But,
sir--"

"Abraham Lincoln," interrupted the Judge, forcibly "I try to speak
plainly, sir. You are to deliver it into Mr. Lincoln's hands. If he
is not in Springfield, find out where he is and follow him up.
Your expenses will be paid by me. The papers are important. Do you
understand, sir?"

Stephen did. And he knew better than to argue the matter with Mr.
Whipple. He had read in the Missouri Democrat of this man Lincoln,
a country lawyer who had once been to Congress, and who was even now
disputing the senatorship of his state with the renowned Douglas. In
spite of their complacent amusement, he had won a little admiration
from conservative citizens who did not believe in the efficacy of Judge
Douglas's Squatter Sovereignty. Likewise this Mr. Lincoln, who had once
been a rail-sputter, was uproariously derided by Northern Democrats
because he had challenged Mr. Douglas to seven debates, to be held at
different towns in the state of Illinois. David with his sling and
his smooth round pebble must have had much of the same sympathy and
ridicule.

For Mr. Douglas, Senator and Judge, was a national character, mighty in
politics, invulnerable in the armor of his oratory. And he was known
far and wide as the Little Giant. Those whom he did not conquer with his
logic were impressed by his person.

Stephen remembered with a thrill that these debates were going on now.
One, indeed, had been held, and had appeared in fine print in a corner
of the Democrat. Perhaps this Lincoln might not be in; Springfield;
perhaps he, Stephen Brice, might, by chance, hit upon a debate, and see
and hear the tower of the Democracy, the Honorable Stephen A. Douglas.

But it is greatly to be feared that our friend Stephen was bored
with his errand before he arrived at the little wooden station of the
Illinois capital. Standing on the platform after the train pulled out,
he summoned up courage to ask a citizen with no mustache and a beard,
which he swept away when he spat, where was the office of Lincoln &
Herndon. The stranger spat twice, regarded Mr. Brice pityingly,
and finally led him in silence past the picket fence and the New
England-looking meeting-house opposite until they came to the great
square on which the State House squatted. The State House was a bu