e.

A deputation of bankers were one day introduced to the President by
the Secretary of the Treasury. One of the party, Mr. P---- of Chelsea,
Mass., took occasion to refer to the severity of the tax laid by
Congress upon State Banks.

"Now," said Mr. Lincoln, "that reminds me of a circumstance that took
place in a neighborhood where I lived when I was a boy. In the spring
of the year the farmers were very fond of a dish which they called
greens, though the fashionable name for it now-a-days is spinach, I
believe. One day after dinner, a large family were taken very ill. The
doctor was called in, who attributed it to the greens, of which all
had frequently partaken. Living in the family was a half-witted boy
named Jake. On a subsequent occasion, when greens had been gathered
for dinner, the head of the house said:

"'Now, boys, before running any further risk in this thing, we will
first try them on Jake, If he stands it, we are all right.'

"And just so, I suppose," said Mr. Lincoln, "Congress thought it would
try this tax on State Banks!"

A Story Which Lincoln Told the Preachers.

A year or more before Mr. Lincoln's death, a delegation of clergymen
waited upon him in reference to the appointment of the army chaplains
The delegation consisted of a Presbyterian, a Baptist, and an
Episcopal clergyman. They stated that the character of many of the
chaplains was notoriously bad, and they had come to urge upon the
President the necessity of more discretion in these appointments.

"But, gentlemen," said the President, "that is a matter which the
Government has nothing to do with; the chaplains are chosen by the
regiments."

Not satisfied with this, the clergymen pressed, in turn, a change in
the system. Mr. Lincoln heard them through without remark, and then
said, "Without any disrespect, gentlemen, I will tell you a 'little
story.'

"Once, in Springfield, I was going off on a short journey, and reached
the depot a little ahead of time. Leaning against the fence just
outside the depot was a little darkey boy, whom I knew, named 'Dick,'
busily digging with his toe in a mud-puddle. As I came up, I said,
'Dick, what are you about?'

"'Making a church,' said he.

"'A church,' said I; 'what do you mean?'

"'Why, yes,' said Dick, pointing with his toe, 'don't you see there is
the shape of it; there's the steps and front door--here the pews,
where the folks set--and there's the pulpit.

"Yes, I see,' said I;