ulties, and so was I. Mr. Lincoln served
with me in the Legislature of 1836; then we both retired, and he
subsided, or became submerged, and was lost sight of as a public man for
some years. In 1846, when Wilmot introduced his celebrated proviso, and
the Abolition tornado swept over the country, Lincoln again turned up as
a Member of Congress from the Sangamon district. I was then in the
Senate of the United States, and was glad to welcome my old friend."

Lincoln, in a speech delivered two years before the joint debate, had
spoken thus of Senator Douglas: "Twenty-two years ago, Judge Douglas and
I first became acquainted; we were both young then--he a trifle younger
than I. Even then, we were both ambitious--I perhaps quite as much as
he. With me, the race of ambition has been a failure--a flat failure;
with him, it has been one of splendid success. His name fills the
nation, and is not unknown even in foreign lands. I affect no contempt
for the high eminence he has reached; so reached that the oppressed of
my species might have shared with me in the elevation, I would rather
stand on that eminence than wear the richest crown that ever pressed a
monarch's brow."

A few days before the first discussion was to take place, Lincoln, who
had become conscious that some of his party friends distrusted his
ability to meet successfully a man who, as the Democrats declared and
believed, had never had his equal on the stump, met an old friend from
Vermilion County, and, shaking hands, inquired the news. His friend
replied, "All looks well; our friends are wide awake, but they are
looking forward with some anxiety to these approaching joint discussions
with Douglas." A shade passed over Lincoln's face, a sad expression came
and instantly passed, and then a blaze of light flashed from his eyes,
and with his lips compressed and in a manner peculiar to him, half
serious and half jocular, he said: "My friend, sit down a minute, and I
will tell you a story. You and I, as we have travelled the circuit
together attending court, have often seen two men about to fight. One of
them, the big or the little giant, as the case may be, is noisy and
boastful; he jumps high in the air, strikes his feet together, smites
his fists, brags about what he is going to do, and tries hard to
'_skeer_' the other man. The other man says not a word; his arms are at
his side, his fists are clenched, his teeth set, his head settled firmly
on his shoulders; he