itiate to their ranks. His course was that of a loyal member
of the Whig mass. In the party strategy, during the debates over the
Mexican War and the Wilmot Proviso, he did his full party duty, voting
just as the others did. Only once did he attempt anything original--a
bill to emancipate the slaves of the District, which was little more
than a restatement of his protest of ten years before--and on this point
Congress was as indifferent as the Legislature had been. The bill was
denied a hearing and never came to a vote before the House.(1)

And yet Lincoln did not fail entirely to make an impression at
Washington. And again it was the Springfield experience repeated. His
companionableness was recognized, his modesty, his good nature; above
all, his story-telling. Men liked him. Plainly it was his humor, his
droll ways, that won them; together with instant recognition of his
sterling integrity.

"During the Christmas holidays," says Ben Perley Poore, "Mr. Lincoln
found his way into the small room used as the Post Office of the House,
where a few genial reconteurs used to meet almost every morning after
the mail had been distributed into the members' boxes, to exchange such
new stories as any of them might have acquired since they had last met.
After modestly standing at the door for several days, Mr. Lincoln was
reminded of a story, and by New Year's he was recognized as the champion
story-teller of the Capital. His favorite seat was at the left of the
open fireplace, tilted back in his chair with his long legs reaching
over to the chimney jamb."(2)

In the words of another contemporary, "Congressman Lincoln was very fond
of howling and would frequently. . . meet other members in a match game
at the alley of James Casparus. . . . He was an awkward bowler, but
played the game with great zest and spirit solely for exercise and
amusement, and greatly to the enjoyment and entertainment of the other
players, and by reason of his criticisms and funny illustrations. . . .
When it was known that he was in the alley, there would assemble numbers
of people to witness the fun which was anticipated by those who knew
of his fund of anecdotes and jokes. When in the alley, surrounded by a
crowd of eager listeners, he indulged with great freedom in the sport of
narrative, some of which were very broad."(3)

Once, at least, he entertained Congress with an exhibition of his humor,
and this, oddly enough, is almost the only display of i