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Lincoln’s letter proved to be indispensable when, a year and a half later, we left the last outpost of western civilization and plunged into the Gobi desert.
“Come over here and tell me about it,” said the gentleman. Calhoun took a seat by his side, and the man whispered, “Are you a deserter, and are they after you?” “Yes,” said Calhoun. “Where are you going?” “To Columbus.” “That is a poor place to go to keep out of the hands of Lincoln’s minions,” answered the man.
His London residence was in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, but having a house and property in the town of Ipswich, he passed his summer months there.
The new governor found Grandfather’s chair in the Province House, he was struck with its noble and stately aspect, but was of opinion, that age and hard services had made it scarcely so fit for courtly company, as when it stood in the Earl of Lincoln’s hall. Wherefore, as Governor Belcher was fond of splendor, he employed a skilful artist to beautify the chair.
Yet here stood the chair, with the old Lincoln coat of arms, and the oaken flowers and foliage, and the fierce lion’s head at the summit, the whole, apparently, in as perfect preservation as when it had first been placed in the Earl of Lincoln’s Hall. And what vast changes of society and of nations had been wrought by sudden convulsions or by slow degrees, since that era!
Hutchinson desired was to restore the chair, as much as possible, to its original aspect, such as it had appeared, when it was first made out of the Earl of Lincoln’s oak-tree. For this purpose he ordered it to be well scoured with soap and sand and polished with wax, and then provided it with a substantial leather cushion.
“Here is a belt containing ten thousand dollars in United States money,” said Morgan, handing him a belt. “You will need it; our money don’t go in the North.” “Whew! you must have had your hand in Lincoln’s strong-box,” said Calhoun, as he took the money. Morgan smiled as he answered: “A Yankee paymaster don’t come amiss once in a while.”
“I thought you must be some big gun, or old Morton wouldn’t have tried to arrest you in that crowd; but don’t worry, you are all right now.” His guide, whose name proved to be Randall, soon came to a house which he said was his home, “and,” he exclaimed, “none of Abe Lincoln’s minions will ever find you here.
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