sentiment; and
it was feared there might be trouble, as Lincoln's anti-slavery
tendencies were well known. To make matters worse, a party of
Kentuckians and Missourians had come over to attend the meeting, and
it was noised about that they would not allow Lincoln to speak. He
heard of it, and both he and his friends were somewhat apprehensive of
trouble. The place of the meeting was a grove in the edge of the town,
the speakers occupying an improvised stand. The gathering was a large
one, and it had every appearance of a Southern crowd. It was customary
in those times for the men in that section of the country to carry
pistols and ugly-looking knives strapped to their persons, on public
occasions. It was a semi-barbarous community, and their hatred of the
Abolitionists, as they called all anti-slavery men, was as intense as
was their love of bad whiskey. Lincoln privately told his friends, who
in that locality were very few in number, that "if only they will give
me a fair chance to say a few opening words, I'll fix them all right."
Before mounting the speaker's stand he was introduced to many of the
crowd, and shook their hands in the usual Western way. Getting a small
company of the rough-looking fellows around him, he opened on them.
"Fellow-citizens of Southern Illinois--fellow-citizens of the State of
Kentucky--fellow-citizens of Missouri," he said, in a tone more of
conversation than of oratory, looking them straight in the eye, "I am
told that there are some of you here present who would like to make
trouble for me. I don't understand why they should. I am a plain,
common man, like the rest of you; and why should not I have as good a
right to speak my sentiments as the rest of you? Why, good friends, I
am one of you; I am not an interloper here! I was born in Kentucky,
raised in Illinois, just like the most of you, and worked my way right
along by hard scratching. I know the people of Kentucky, and I know
the people of Southern Illinois, and I think I know the Missourians. I
am one of them, and therefore ought to know them, and they ought to
know me better, and if they did know me better they would know that I
am not disposed to make them trouble; then why should they, or any one
of them, want to make trouble for me? Don't do any such foolish thing,
fellow-citizens. Let us be friends, and treat each other like friends.
I am one of the humblest and most peaceable men in the world--would
wrong no man, would interfer