Evening Republican, Volume 20, Number 34, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 9 February 1916 — Page 2

LINCOLN'S TILTS WITH CUPID

M BRAHAM LINCOLN was a lover, but he was an unusual lover just as he was unusual in every other way. His first recorded affair of Xvjk the heart, anemotion deeper than the calf love of half-grown youth, came when he was twenty-two **• ** years old and clerking in a store at New Salem, 111. Ann Rutledge, tavernkeeper's daughter, was the girl. The second affair came when he was about twenty-six. It began as a Joke, after Lincoln had become a lawyer and was practicing at Springfield, but it caused him untold worry—because the girl, Mary Owens, was fat and he didn’t want to marry her. The third affair “took." That is, Mary Todd became Abraham Lincoln’s wife, when he was thirty-three years old. When he was a youth in the wilds of southern Indiana, Lincoln had his sentimental vaporings, one of which appealed so strongly to his sense of romance that he wanted to write a story about IL This vaporing was the kind most of us have along about the time the down on our upper lip begins to toughen. It is doubtful if Ann Rutledge evir loved Lincoln. She simply appreciated his sympathy and affection —she had been jilted by James McNeill, who tired of her and went East to escape his obligation. Her father, James Rutledge, one of the founders of New Salem, kept a tavern, and there Lincoln went to board when in 1831 he left his home and became clerk in a store there. At breakfast, dinner and supper he sat by the side of the tavernkeeper’s daughter. He was twenty-two; she was less than twenty. She was sad of heart and he tried to cheer her. Lincoln's sympathy ripened intodeep affection, but the girl was faithful for more than a year to the memory of McNeill. Even if the girl had been willing, Lincoln was In no position to marry. He was very poor. He was one of the first to volunteer in the Black Hawk war. When the war was ended he returned to New Salem, ran for the legislature and .was defeated. His financial condition was so muddled at this time that he-seriously contemplated becoming a blacksmith in order to make a living. An opportunity came to him to get an interest in a store without putting up any real money. He was a wretched storekeeper and his partner was no better. The business did not flourish, but his courtship did. He and Ann Rutledge sat at night on the tavern steps or walked along the roads around the little settlement. They were young and youth is the age of glamour. Lincoln was beginning to think of a career as a lawyer. He believed he would be able in a year or two to support a wife. Ann could not forget McNeill, but the devotion df Lincoln prevailed and she consented to marry him. The summer of their engagement was the happiest, perhaps, in all of Lincoln’s life. Ann Rutledge was beautiful in face and figure and charm* ing in every way. She was not tall and rather delicate. At times w-pen she would become a little weary, Lincoln, whose strength was unusual, delighted in taking her up in his arms and carrying her as if she were a child. With their engagement everything seemed to brighten for Lincoln. He was appointed postmaster, he began to make a little money doing Purvey work, and in the fall he was elected to the legislature. The young couple decided to get married in the spring. Ann, anxious to complete her education, decided to go to Jacksonville to attend an academy there during the winter. Meanwhile, Xiaeolu. went to Snrinvfield to attend .the session of the legislature, continue his law studies and prepare for his admission to the bar in the spring. He was in Springfield "when he - got a message that nearly bmke bis h.ehrt. Ann Rutledge was dead. At the academy she contracted a fever and died in a few days. Lincoln was predisposed to melancholia. The death of the woman he loved Bo much almost upset his reason. He never fully recovered from his grief; Ann Rutledge had been dead two or three years When Lincoln became engaged again. In Springfield there lived a Mrs. Able, with whom he was well acquainted. She had a sister, Mary Owene of Kentucky, who visited Springfield for a short time and to whom Lincoln had been introduced. Mary Owens was bright, clever and buxom. She returned to Kentucky and Lincoln probably forgot her. But one day Mrs. Able Informed him that she was going to Kentucky and then, in a spirit of” banter, she said to Lincoln: .

'T'HIS great man loved three women at different periods. The first died. The second t rejected his proposal. The J \ third he married. His / \ biographers say he / was a queer / lover. /

‘Til bring Mary back if you’ll agree to marry her." “Marry her? I’d be delighted,” said Lincoln. Mrs. Able went away and a* month or so later she was In Springfield again and she had her sister with her. Lincoln went to call. When he saw Mary Owens he gasped. The girl had grown enormously. She had become outrageously fat. "Well, I’ve brought her back for you to marry according to promise,” said Mrs. Able. She was joking, but Lincoln wasn’t sure whether it was a jest or whether she was serious and was cloaking her feelings in the light manner in which she spoke. He called regularly upon Miss Owens and paid to her all the attention he thought an engaged man should. It was not -pleasant, however, for she was enormous in size. To make the situation still more absurd, he was very tall and very thin. The contrast between the two was enough to make any person smile, no matter how gloomy he might be. Lincoln worried greatly over the situation. He felt that he was in honor bound to marry the lady, but he dreaded the taking of such a step. But while Lincoln had due regard for the sanctity of his promise, implied or otherwise, he tried hard to make Miss Owens understand that he was not a desirable partner for life. He wrote to her some of the queerest love letters that perhaps any man ever penned. He told her over and over again what a miserable life, she would have with him. In one of them he said: “I am afraid_you would not be satisfied. There is a great deal of flourishing about in carriages here in Springfield, which it would be your doom to see. without sharing. You would have to be poor without the means of hiding your poverty. Do you believe you could bear that patiently?” Another time he wrote to her: “I know I should be much happier with you than the way I am, provided I saw no signs of discontent in you. What you have said to me~ may- have been in the way of jest, or I may have misunderstood it. If so, then let it be forgotten; if otherwise, I wish you would think seriously before you decide. What I have said I would most positively abide by, provided you wish it. My opinion is that you had better not do it. You have not been accustomed to hardship and ft .jmay hejpore serious than you now imagine. know you are capable of thinlflng concretely on any subject and if you deliberate maturely upon this before you decide, then I am willing to abide your decision.” » r Lovers’ Tears and Quarrels. Evidently Miss Owens had some spirit. She sent a reply to one of his letters that stunned him. She rejected him incontinently, and she plquod his pride in doiijg it, for she told him that he was “deficient In those links which make up the chain of a woman’s happiness." You. would not think of Lincoln as a dancing man, yet he did at times indulge in that pastime. There are some records extant ,in proof of this. They take the form of cotillion notices printed at the time he was thirty years old and a little before his meeting with Mary Todd. Like Mary Owens, Mary Todd was a Kentuckian, and, like Mary Owens, she had a sister

LINCOLN'S TRUE KINDLINESS.

Mrs. Amanda Kuhn died some months ago in Philadelphia at the age of eighty-four. During the Civil war her husband was wounded and she went to the hospital at Washington with her only baby to nurse him. He recovered, but she stayed to nurse others. There Lincoln saw her and was deeply impressed with the woman’s devotion to the needs of The injured. Her baby attracted him, and, realizing that the child was a burden and anxiety to Hie loyal nurse, he arranged for its care in the White House while the mother was busy in the hospital. That was like him. It is merely another story of tfie many that mark Lincoln as the biggest man the modern world has known. ' _ k .

THE EVENING r REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, IND.

in Springfield. Her sister was the wife of Nlnian W. Edwards, one of the most prominent men of Springfield. Miss Todd was bright, witty, highly educated, ambitious, and at once became the belle of Springfield. Few young women have had more great men suitors for their hand than had Miss Todd within one month of her arrival. Among those who paid ardent attention to her were Stephen A. Douglas, James Shields, who later was senator from three states and who made a glorious record in three wars; Abraham Lincoln, and a dozen others. The Edwards family protested against Miss Todd’s partiality for Lincoln. They thought his family was plebeian; they thought, too, he was too grave a man. But Miss Todd loved Lincoln and they became engaged. They were not altogether happy in their engagement. Miss Todd was jealous and exacting. She loved balls and»partles, frivolities of all sorts that are so dear to women. Lincoln did not care much for those things and w.as shockingly thoughtless and inattentive for an engaged man. When there was some merrymaking, if he didn’t want to go, he didn’t think she’d care. She, however, thought it a slight. She complained that he neglected her. Then, to make him feel bad about It, she would go with Shields or with Douglas. There were tears, reproaches, quarrels. They would make up and fall out again. All this had a very bad effect upon He became extremely morbid. He began to search his soul to answer the question as to whether or not he would make the woman’s life unhappy. They were to have been married on January 1, 1842. Something happened and the wedding did not take place There was a story, which was credited to W. H. Herndon, that Lincoln failed to appear, but this has been pronounced untrue by those who ought to know. It is more likely that one of their many quarrels led to the break between them. ——■■ ■ Some of Lincoln’s letters written about this time disclose his sufferings. In one of them he says: “I am now the most miserable, man living. If what I feel were equally’’distributed to the whole human family there would not be one cheerful face on earth. Whether I shall ever be better I cannot tell. I fear I shall not. To remain aa I am is impossible.” j Reconciliation and Marriage. One of his friends in Kentucky invited him there in the hope of cheering him up. He had a hard time arousing Lincoln from his melancholia, but he finally succeeded in a manner he never expected. The friend fell in love himself and began to feel qualmish as to whether he would make his beloved happy. He became so miserable over his doubt in this regard that Lincoln tried tQ cheer him up, and in trying to cheer his friend, Lincoln cheered up himself. When . Lincoln returned to Illinois he was much better. He and Miss Todd met and there was a reconciliation. j —— On November 4, following, Lincoln and Mary ‘Todd were married. While the marriage ceremony was being performed one of the greatest storms in the history of Springfield was raging. “Did you ever write out a story in your mind?” Lincoln once asked a friend. “I did when I was a young fellow. One day a wagon with a lady and two girls and a man broke down near us, and while they were fixing up they in our kitchen- The woman had books and read us stories, and they were the first of the' kind I ever had heard. I took a great fancy to one of the girls, and when they were gone I thought of her a great deal, and one day when I was sitting out in the sun by the house I wrote out a story In my mind. » “I thought I took my father's horse and folJowed,_ and finally I found it, and they were surprised to see me. I talked with the girl And persuaded her to elope with toe; and that night 1 put her on the horse and we started off across the prairie. After several hours we came to a camp, and when we rode up we found it was the one we had left a few hours before, and we wqnt in. “The next night we tried again, and the same thing happened—the horse came back to the same place; and tlitiii wi COffCloded that we ought not to elope.- I stayed until I had persuaded her father to give her to me. J always meant to write that story out and publish it, and I began. oppe, but I concluded it was not much of a story. But I think that was the beginning of love with me.” ’ •

Kin Hubbard Essays

Ther haint nothin’ folks like betterin’ ther names in a newspaper. No matter whether they’re rich an’ influential er poor an’ obscure —no matter whether they live in Wolf Center, Montana, er on Fifth Avenue, in New York, th’ sight o’ ther names in print has th’ same- irresistible fascination. Fer these are limelight days, an’ everbuddy seems t’ realize that they must git in th’ public eye er waste ther sweetness on th’ desert air. Some folks have publicity thrust upon ’em while others walk right int’ th’ newspaper office an' personally su-

“I Wouldn't Be Surprised if Ever’ Hoss Thief Kept a Scrap Book an’ Ever’ Burglar Buys a Mornin’ Paper Fer Ther's a Hankerin’ Fer Publicity Even Among Thieves.”

pervise th’ thing. Even folks that give liberally in th’ case o’ some, great calamity hang around till they see that ther name has been spelled right. All they ask in return is a little publicity in a modest way. I wouldn’t be surprised if ever’ hoss thief kept a scrap book an’ ever’ burglar buys a mornin’ paper, fer ther’s a hankerin’ fer publicity even among thieves. In little towns nothin’ worries a woman as much as t’ start on a visit an’ not find a newspaper reporter at th' depot. Lots o’ times she’ll turn back. In cities they telephone th’ society editor, er drop a personal in th’ want ad box. Th’ race t’ reach th’ newspaper office with th’ first roastin’ ear o’ th’ season is one o’ th’ excitin’ an ever’ pop’lar contests in th’ rural hamlets. Ther haint no bejeweled potentate in th’ Fiji Islands that feels his oats any more’n th’ old resident that walks int’

Professor Alex Tansey on the Decline of Modesty

Bright an’ glowin’, after his Indian club exercises, Prof. Alex Tansey last night demonstrated t’ th’ mothers o’ “Th’ Home Trainin’ league” that he wuz keen an’ observant although a schoolteacher. Mr. Tansey addressed th’ club on “Th’ Decline o’ Modesty,” an’ many whispered approvals followed his bitin’ flings at th’ passin’ show. Said he: . “One o’ th’ most remarkable things t’day t’ my notion, is how a man in th’ full possession o’ his faculties can keep his mind on his business when he looks about him. I w|gh t’ say,

“Those o’ You Whose Memories Kin Go Back t’th’ Muncie Roller Skate Must Be Appalled When You Stand on th’ Pust Office Corner Any Afternoon, Rain er Shine —Rain Preferred—an’ Note th’ Progress Degeneracy Has Made Since Those Stirrin’ Days o’ th’ Early Eighties.”

If I may be permitted t* do so, that th’ effect o’ th’ slashed skirt toward retrading moral progress in this country kin scarcely be comprehended, much less estimated. •* v “Those o’ you whose memories kin go back t’ th’ Jersey waist ah’ th’ Muncie roller skate must be appalled, when you stand on th’ pust office corner any afternoon, rain er shine —rain preferred— an’ note th’ progress degeneracy in dresshas madesincethos’? stirrin' days o' th’ early eighties. If it wuz a mistake t’ give Independence t’ Cuby iow fer greater wuz th’ miatake t' give Independence t’ th* waist line? Many problems in th’ home t’day are directly traceable t’ th’ ever shiftin’ an’ migratory waist line. Th’ daytime bodice, too, might easily be called class legislation in dress since It makes th’ rich throat specialist richer an’ poor father poorer. “Women An’ girls who used t’ drink elderberry w ine on - thsly now go directly from th’ musical comedy t’ th’ case when one little red well soused cherry may mean a one-way ticket o’er th’ downward trail. “T’day our current literature is teemin’ with underwear adver-

LIMELIGHT DAYS

By KIN HUBBARD

th’ sanctum o’ some editur with a bough bearin’ fifty-one perfect full blown peaches. He knows It’s a cinch that he’ll git at least a eight line notice next t’ th’ readin’ matter. An’ he’ll git his hair cut an’ wear a collar an’ necktie fer nearly a week after it’s Sometimes a feller ’ll run fer office Jist t' pass his cards around with his picture on ’em. He figures more on th’ limelight than he does on th’ salary o’ th’ office. Five er six rattlin’ good newspaper write-ups, if they follow in rapid suc-

cession an’ git good top-O’-th’-column positions, will almost, if not quite, land a feller in'th’ hot glare o’ th’ kerosene lamps o’ th’ Chautauqua stage. An’ once a feller gits his hands on a little easy Chautauqua money his inclination t’ toiler th’ humbler pursuits o’ life dwindle t’ nothin’. Ther’s ever'thing in publicity. Th’ grocer that don't advertise may have th’ best prunes in th’ world —but nobuddy knows it. Th’ girl that hides herself finally passes away single an’ unhappy, an’ who’d ever know a feller had a watch if he dldn’ wear a fob? When Miss Fawn Lippincut entertains th’ Eureka Bridge club er takes a trip she pays th’ same careful attention in gittin’ th’ fact in th’ home newspaper that she uses in selectin' her prizes er packin’ her suit case. Yisterday she said, 'T’ve got a aunt in Pennsylvania that I’m dyin’ t’ visit but ther’s no newspaper in her town.” (Protected by Adame Newspaper Service.)

By KIN HUBBARD

tlsements an’ sickly romances. A great full-page picture that probably cost eight times as much as th’ story will show a limp gazelle-eyed queen wrigglin’ and smilin’ in th’ embrace o’ a faultlessly dressed planner mover with a jardiniere o’ palms fer a background. Under th’ inspirin’ scene we read: ‘Claspin’ Imogene passionately in his strong arms, Harold kissed her agin, an’ agin, an’ agin.’ Right now many daughters in our best homes are anxiously waitin’ fer th’ next number t’ see whether Harold married th’ girl er ran away. "What would our mothers o’ ylster-

day say if they knew that Dame Fashion had finally turned out a summer frock that is suitable fer either th’ motor er th’ steam car, an’ at th’ same time so constructed that it will actually meet th’ most rigid social exigencies—somethin’, it seems, our feg’lar travelin’ dresses have been unable t* do? Whether afoot er In a spring wagon mother used t’ git by In a black alpaca an’ a Paisley shawl, an' she dldn’ live..so unhappily ever afterward at that. Agin we are face t’ face with another short sleeve summer with Its burnt forearms an’ goat knee elbows. Will nothin’ save us from this annual ordeal we may well ask ? 'Tn these days o’ skimpy apparel an' extravagant pleasure th’ serious-mind" ed girl is as scarce as business men at a political primary, an’ th’ tango fr f pck an’ flat heels, superinduced by th’ sloppy Peruvian amble, will, If I may be permitted t’ express It, he a constant menace t’ th’ traffic along th' straight an’ narrow path.” Concludin’ Professor Tansey said; "But, my friends, th’ most astonlshln' thing o’ all Is how Anything as sensible as th’ shirtwaist has held on all these years.” •' ((Protected by Adams Newspaper