n of Lincoln's opponent was
abundantly gratified, and for the remainder of the session he lapsed
into profound obscurity."

In June, 1842, ex-President Van Buren was journeying through Illinois
with a company of friends. When near Springfield they were delayed by
bad roads, and were compelled to spend the night at Rochester, some
miles out. The accommodations at this place were very poor, and a few of
the ex-President's Springfield friends proposed to go out to meet him
and try to aid in entertaining him. Knowing Lincoln's ability as a
talker and story-teller, they begged him to go with them and aid in
making their guest at the country inn pass the evening as pleasantly as
possible. Lincoln, with his usual good nature, went with them, and
entertained the party for hours with graphic descriptions of Western
life, anecdotes and witty stories. Judge Peck, who was of the party, and
a warm friend of the ex-President, says that Lincoln was at his best.
There was a constant succession of brilliant anecdotes and funny
stories, accompanied by loud laughter in which Van Buren took his full
share. "He also," says the Judge, "gave us incidents and anecdotes of
Elisha Williams, and other leading members of the New York bar, going
back to the days of Hamilton and Burr. Altogether there was a right
merry time. Mr. Van Buren said the only drawback upon his enjoyment was
that his sides were sore from laughing at Lincoln's stories for a week
thereafter."

Lincoln's eight years of legislative service had given him considerable
reputation in politics, and he had become the acknowledged leader of the
Whig party in Illinois. In the exciting Presidential campaign of 1840,
known as the "Log Cabin" campaign, he took a very active part. He had
been nominated as Presidential Elector on the Harrison ticket, and
stumped a large portion of the State. A peculiarly interesting
reminiscence of Lincoln's appearance on one occasion during the "Log
Cabin" campaign is furnished by Mr. G.W. Harris, who says: "In the fall
of the year 1840 there came into the log school-house in a village in
Southern Illinois where I, a lad, was a pupil, a tall, awkward,
plain-looking young man dressed in a full suit of 'blue jean.'
Approaching the master, he gave his name, and, apologizing for the
intrusion, said, 'I am told you have a copy of Byron's works. I would
like to borrow it for a few hours.' The book was produced and loaned to
him. With his thanks and a 'Good-day