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SOJIE PAGES EROM TH SCRAP BOOK LINCOLN’S BROAD-SWORD DUEL How He Accepted a Challenge to Fight in a Quarrel About a Pin. (From the Alexandria, Va., Ga- Mr. Lamon, in his life of Lincoln, gives an account of an affair of hon or, which forms one of the most pleas ing episodes in his book. Tn one of his letters to Speed, Mr. Lincoln re fers to his “duel with Shields” —■ a duel, by the way, which was never fought. The object of this paper is to furnish for our readers a por trait of the secret history of that celebrated “duel.” The readers of Lincoln’s life are well aware that Mary Todd, after wards Mrs. Lincoln, drew her lover into that very ugly scrape. “As a satirical writer,” says Mr. Lamon, “she had no rival of either*sex at Springfield, and few, we venture to say, anywhere else. * * * She was not disposed to let her genius rust for want of use; and, finding no other victim handy, she turned her attention to James Shields, ‘Auditor.’ She had a friend, on Miss Jayne, afterward Mrs. Trumbull (United States Senator), who helped her to keep her secrets, and assisted as much as she could in worrying the choleric Irishman.” The beautiful Miss Jayne was the apple of discord in this case. Gener al Shields was walking home with her one night; he took the liberty of squeezing her hand, she took the lib erty of sticking a pin in him. This small affair of the pin led to the great affair of the sword. It figures lately in one of “Rebecca’s,” alias Miss Todd’s, letters from the “Lost Townships,” and addressed to the editor of the Sangamon Journal, by whom it was published. It is the most favorable specimen of Miss Todd’s wit, but it is too long to be copied here (See Lamon’s Life, pp. 257-8.) Now, “Old Uncle Abe,” instigated by his love of fun, or his love of Mary Todd, or his love of mischief, or by all three, must have his say about the pin. Accordingly, he wrote a letter over the name of “Aunt Beccy,” from the “Lost Townships,” and had it published in the Sangamon Journal. Strange to say, this letter, about which the fight occurred (i. e., the fight that was nev er fought), does not appear in Mr. Lamon’s book. Other letters of the series are given, but not this. The wrath of Shields —the Irish Achil les —which had been kng kindled, now burst into flames. He demanded the author of the “ Lost Township” letters, especially of the one written by “Aunt Beccy.” Aunt Beccy proved to be Uncle Abe. Gen. Shields, the terrible son of Mars, without waiting to call for an explanation, at once challenged “Aunt Beccy,” and she at once ac cepted the challenge. It was at this point of the business that the pres ent writer was made acquainted with the state of affairs by Mr. Lincoln himself. He entered my office one night as WATSON’S WEEKLY JEFFERSONIAN. I was engaged in the study of a law case, with somewhat more than the usual gloom seated on his melancholy face. After taking a seat he said, “I have got into a little difficulty, and I want to see if you cannot help me out of it.” “Most happy to do so,” said I, “if I can. What is the matter?” “Why,” said he, “that fool letter which I wrote for the Sangamon Journal has made Shields mad, and he has challenged me. I have accepted the challenge, and, without thinking, I have chosen Dr. Merryman for my second. I be lieve he would rather see a fight than not. If I have to fight I will fight; but I don’t care about fighting just to gratify Dr. Merryman. Now, if you will come in and make Dr. Mer ryman do right (for I know you will have more influence with him than any other man) the whole difficulty may be settled.” Again I said, ‘ ‘ Most happy to do so if I can. What is the difficulty?” “Why, it is this,” replied Mr. Lin coln. “The friends of Shields say that if I will explain or apologize he will withdraw the challenge, and the quarrel can be settled honorably to both parties. But Dr. Merryman says if Shields will first withdraw the challenge then I will explain or apologize, and the quarrel may be Settled honorably to both parties. And there they have come to a dead lock. Now I don’t see, if both things have to be done, that it makes so much difference which is done first. It seems to me that Dr. Merryman is disposed to stand upon niceties, and I don’t think he ought to stand upon niceties in a case of life and death.” The situation was plain. I sym pathized with Mr. Lincoln; but, while I fully appreciated his practical good sense, I could not exactly see his nice sense of honor. “I know very little about the code of honor,’’ said I; “it is a branch of moral science for which I have never had much respect, and have therefore never studied it. But if you go by that code at all (and I suppose you must if you fight duels), it seems to me that Dr. Merryman is right. 1 don’t see how you can explain or apologize or say one word to miti gate the wrath of Shields while the challenge is pending over you.” Mr. Lincoln thereupon fell into one of his musing, melancholy moods; and there was spread over his face that sad expression which made him an object of interest to every man who had a live heart in his bosom. As he sat there looking at the fire, he seemed to be saying to himself: “I have come to the wrong person to help me out of my difficulty. Per haps Merryman is right, and there is no help out of ‘this dead lock’ ex cept a fight with Shields.” His com pressed lips and firm look evidently indicated fight. “There is not the least necessity for a fight, whatever,” said I. “It may be very easily avoided.” “How so?” said Mr. Lincoln, looking up with a relieved expression of face, and turning his eyes upon me. “I know Shields well,” I replied; “and his courage is not of the truest stamp; there is altogether too much of bluster and bravado about the man for that. He is trying to make you back out, and you can make him back out very easily.” “How so?” said Mr. Lincoln. “Why,” said I, “as he sent the challenge, you have the right to choose the weapons, and if you choose broadswords, my word for it, he will never fight you in the world. You are at least seven inches taller than Shields, and your arms are three or four inches longer than his, so that you could cut him down before he could get near enough to touch you. I know you will never do this, be cause he will never fight you with broadswords. He will show the white feather first.” Mr. Lincoln adopted this idea: He chose broadswords; and the terms of duel were arranged as stated in Mr. Lamon’s book (p. 265). Ist. Wea pons—Cavalry broadswords of the largest size, precisely equal in all respects, and such are now used by the cavalry company at Jackson ville. 2d. Position--A plank ten feet long and from 9 to 12 inches broad, to be firmly fixed on edge on the ground as the line between us, which neither is to pass his foot over, upon forfeit of his life, etc. These and other preliminaries ar ranged, we set out for Alton in order to pass over to Missouri, on the op posite side of the Mississippi river —the place appointed for the fatal encounter. My father and myself both accompanied Lincoln and Mer ryman to the scene of action —he to see the fun, and I to see that there w’as no fight. My prediction was ful filled. Shields would not. or at least he did not, fight with broadswords. Lincoln had put down his foot for broadswords, and nothing cou d shake his purpose. General Ewing, the friend of General Shields, cursed and swore and carried on at a great rate about “the barbarous practice of fighting with broad swords in the nineteenth century.’’ Mr. Lincoln very coolly and calmly replied that for his part he thought fighting duels in any way a rather barbarous practice for the nineteenth century, and if he had to fight he would choose his own weapons. The more General Ewing insisted on rifles or pistols the more Mr. Lincoln held on to broadswords; and there was another “dead lock.” But it did not last over an hour or two. Gen. Shields was finally induced by his friends to withdraw his chal lenge; Mr. Lincoln explained the of fensive matter in the only letter written by himself, and the great trouble about the pin was “settled honorably to both parties.” The second of Mr. Shields had declared, before the choice of broadswords, “that he would as soon think of asking Mr. Shields to butt his brains out against a brick wall as to with draw that paper”—the challenge— but yet, after all, this son of blood and thunder did withdraw that very paper rather than expose his brains to the long sword and the long arm of Abraham Lincoln. THE STORY OF A FALLEN KNIGHT. By Jo. A. Parker. Do you remember Will Crittenden Thornton, who edited the St. Louis Monitor, and afterward the People’s Banner, both little papers, not much larger than a sheet of note paper, but tilled to the brim with pure gold in the form of trite paragraphs and pointed articles defending the faith of the Omaha platform? If you do recollect him. you will re member that our conference, held in St. Louis last June, passed resolu tions of respect to his memory, for our brother had crossed the Great Divide, and had entered upon his eternal rest. Believing that there is a chord of sympathy and fraternity among the Old Guard Populists who will read this, 1 have a story to relate in this connection, and an appeal to make as a matter of justice to the memory of one who wrought without means, and yet knew not discouragement. ill Crittenden Thornton was very poor. He did not know how to suc ceed financially. He was an idealist and a dreamer. He dreamed of a system which would lift from the brow of labor its ‘ ‘ crown of thorns ’ ’; of a time to come when the stony pathway of the poor would be less painful to the feet of the unfortu nate. Hence, he was a Populist, a trades-unionist, and allied with all movements looking toward industrial freedom. And he felt that he had a message to deliver to the world, hence, he became the editor of a reform paper; but because he had no means and but little financial sagacity, he la bored unappreciated. Others could have taken the magnificent attain ments he possessed and combined with business ability could have turned them into wealth; but he labored on unappreciated, for he was too large of heart to strive to turn his efforts into money or property. We have never had in the reform movement a clearer thinker or better writer on reform questions than Will Ciitten den Thornton, and those of us who read his little Monitor and later the People’s Banner, learned co value his efforts. Knocked about from pillar to post, struggling against poverty, he finally concluded to get “back to the land”; hence he located a homestead on gov ernment land on the summit of a grand mountain in Iron county, Mo., in the Ozarks, and almost in sight of the ruins of old Iron Mountain, now robbed of the immense treasures Na ture had given her, for many for tunes have been extracted from this red old hill in iron. It is now de serted —a cow-pasture—and the hordes who burrowed for the precious ore for half a century are long since gone, and their hundred homes de serted and falling into decay. On the summit of the mountain Mr. Thornton cleared out a building site, and with tire aid of his devoted wife, built with their own hands the (Continued on Page Seven.) PAGE THREE