ll with some boys. The game
finished, he had put on his black coat and was starting homeward under
the tree--when a fleet youngster darted after him with a telegram. The
tall man read it, and continued on his walk his head bent and his feet
taking long strides, Later in the day he was met by a friend.

"Abe," said the friend, "I'm almighty glad there somebody in this town's
got notorious at last."

In the early morning of their return from Chicago Judge Whipple
and Stephen were standing in the front of a ferry-boat crossing the
Mississippi. The sun was behind them. The Judge had taken off his hat,
and his gray hair was stirred by the river breeze. Illness had set
a yellow seal on the face, but the younger man remarked it not. For
Stephen, staring at the black blur of the city outline, was filled
with a strange exaltation which might have belonged to his Puritan
forefathers. Now at length was come his chance to be of use in life,--to
dedicate the labor of his hands and of his brains to Abraham Lincoln
uncouth prophet of the West. With all his might he would work to save
the city for the man who was the hope of the Union.

The bell rang. The great paddles scattered the brow waters with white
foam, and the Judge voiced his thoughts.

"Stephen," said he, "I guess we'll have to put on shoulders to the wheel
this summer. If Lincoln is not elected I have lived my sixty-five years
for nothing."

As he descended the plank, he laid a hand on Stephen's arm, and
tottered. The big Louisiana, Captain Brent's boat, just in from New
Orleans, was blowing off her steam as with slow steps they climbed the
levee and the steep pitch of the street beyond it. The clatter of hooves
and the crack of whips reached their ears, and, like many others before
them and since, they stepped into Carvel & Company's. On the inside of
the glass partition of the private office, a voice of great suavity was
heard. It was Eliphalet Hopper's.

"If you will give me the numbers of the bales, Captain Brent, I'll send
a dray down to your boat and get them."

It was a very decisive voice that answered.

"No, sir, I prefer to do business with my friend, Colonel Carvel. I
guess I can wait."

"I could sell the goods to Texas buyers who are here in the store right
now."

"Until I get instructions from one of the concern," vowed Captain Lige,
"I shall do as I always have done, sir. What is your position here, Mr.
Hopper?"

"I am manager, I callate."

Th