“Long Abe’s” Feet “Protruded Over”
George M. Pullman, the great sleeping car builder, once told a joke in which Lincoln was the prominent figure. In fact, there wouldn’t have been any joke had it not been for “Long Abe.” At the time of the occurrence, which was the foundation for the joke—and Pullman admitted that the latter was on him—Pullman was the conductor of his only sleeping-car. The latter was an experiment, and Pullman was doing everything possible to get the railroads to take hold of it.
“One night,” said Pullman in telling the story, “as we were about going out of Chicago—this was long before Lincoln was what you might call a renowned man—a long, lean, ugly man, with a wart on his cheek, came into the depot. He paid me fifty cents, and half a berth was assigned him. Then he took off his coat and vest and hung them up, and they fitted the peg about as well as they fitted him. Then he kicked off his boots, which were of surprising length, turned into the berth, and, undoubtedly having an easy conscience, was sleeping like a healthy baby before the car left the depot.
“Pretty soon along came another passenger and paid his fifty cents. In two minutes he was back at me, angry as a wet hen.
“‘There’s a man in that berth of mine,’ said he hotly, ‘and he’s about ten feet high. How am I going to sleep there, I’d like to know? Go and look at him.’
“In I went—mad, too. The tall, lank man’s knees were under his chin, his arms were stretched across the bed and his feet were stored comfortably—for him. I shook him until he awoke, and then told him if he wanted the whole berth he would have to pay $1.
“‘My dear sir,’ said the tall man, ‘a contract is a contract. I have paid you fifty cents for half this berth, and, as you see, I’m occupying it. There’s the other half,’ pointing to a strip about six inches wide. ‘Sell that and don’t disturb me again.’
“And so saying, the man with a wart on his face went to sleep again. He was Abraham Lincoln, and he never grew any shorter afterward. We became great friends, and often laughed over the incident.”
“I’D A BEEN MISSED BY MYSE’F”
The President did not consider that every soldier who ran away in battle, or did not stand firmly to receive a bayonet charge, was a coward. He was of opinion that self-preservation was the first law of Nature, but he didn’t want this statute construed too liberally by the troops.
At the same time he took occasion to illustrate a point he wished to make by a story in connection with a darky who was a member of the Ninth Illinois Infantry Regiment. This regiment was one of those engaged at the capture of Fort Donelson. It behaved gallantly, and lost as heavily as any.
“Upon the hurricane-deck of one of our gunboats,” said the President in telling the story, “I saw an elderly darky, with a very philosophical and retrospective cast of countenance, squatted upon his bundle, toasting his shins against the chimney, and apparently plunged into a state of profound meditation.
“As the negro rather interested me, I made some inquiries, and found that he had really been with the Ninth Illinois Infantry at Donelson, and began to ask him some questions about the capture of the place.
“‘Were you in the fight?’
“‘Had a little taste of it, sa.’
“‘Stood your ground, did you?’
“‘No, sa, I runs.’
“‘Run at the first fire, did you?’
“‘Yes, sa, and would hab run soona, had I knowd it war comin’.’
“‘Why, that wasn’t very creditable to your courage.’
“‘Dat isn’t in my line, sa—cookin’s my profeshun.’
“‘Well, but have you no regard for your reputation?’
“‘Reputation’s nuffin to me by de side ob life.’
“‘Do you consider your life worth more than other people’s?’
“‘It’s worth more to me, sa.’
“‘Then you must value it very highly?’
“‘Yes, sa, I does, more dan all dis wuld, more dan a million ob dollars, sa, for what would dat be wuth to a man wid de bref out ob him? Self-preserbation am de fust law wid me.’
“‘But why should you act upon a different rule from other men?’
“‘Different men set different values on their lives; mine is not in de market.’
“‘But if you lost it you would have the satisfaction of knowing that you died for your country.’
“‘Dat no satisfaction when feelin’s gone.’
“‘Then patriotism and honor are nothing to you?’
“‘Nufin whatever, sa—I regard them as among the vanities.’
“‘If our soldiers were like you, traitors might have broken up the government without resistance.’
“‘Yes, sa, dar would hab been no help for it. I wouldn’t put my life in de scale ’g’inst any gobernment dat eber existed, for no gobernment could replace de loss to me.’
“‘Do you think any of your company would have missed you if you had been killed?’
“‘Maybe not, sa; a dead white man ain’t much to dese sojers, let alone a dead nigga—but I’d a missed myse’f, and dat was de p’int wid me.’
“I only tell this story,” concluded the President, “in order to illustrate the result of the tactics of some of the Union generals who would be sadly ’missed’ by themselves, if by no one else, if they ever got out of the Army.”