uck by his first significant utterance at the age of
twenty-eight. How inevitable that it should have no significance to the
congregation of good fellows who thought of him merely as one of their
own sort, who put up with their friend's vagary, and speedily forgot it.

The moment was a dreary one in Lincoln's fortunes. By dint of much
reading of borrowed books, he had succeeded in obtaining from the
easy-going powers that were in those days, a license to practise law. In
the spring of 1837 he removed to Springfield. He had scarcely a dollar
in his pocket. Riding into Springfield on a borrowed horse, with all the
property he owned, including his law books, in two saddlebags, he went
to the only cabinet-maker in the town and ordered a single bedstead.
He then went to the store of Joshua F. Speed. The meeting, an immensely
eventful one for Lincoln, as well as a classic in the history of genius
in poverty, is best told in Speed's words: "He came into my store, set
his saddle-bags on the counter and inquired what the furnishings for a
single bedstead would cost. I took slate and pencil, made a calculation
and found the sum for furnishings complete, would amount to seventeen
dollars in all. Said he: 'It is probably cheap enough, but I want to
say that, cheap as it is, I have not the money to pay; but if you will
credit me until Christmas, and my experiment here as a lawyer is a
success, I will pay you then. If I fail in that I will probably never
pay you at all.' The tone of his voice was so melancholy that I felt for
him. I looked up at him and I thought then as I think now that I never
saw so gloomy and melancholy a face in my life. I said to him: 'So small
a debt seems to affect you so deeply, I think I can suggest a plan by
which you will be able to attain your end without incurring any debt. I
have a very large room and a very large double bed in it, which you are
perfectly welcome to share with me if you choose.' 'Where is your room?'
he asked. 'Up-stairs,' said I, pointing to the stairs leading from the
store to my room. Without saying a word, he took his saddle-bags on his
arm, went upstairs, set them down on the floor, came down again, and
with a face beaming with pleasure and smiles exclaimed, 'Well, Speed,
I'm moved.'"(6)

This was the beginning of a friendship which appears to have been the
only one of its kind Lincoln ever had. Late in life, with his gifted
private secretaries, with one or two brilliant men whom