Lincoln once told the story of the sick man in Illinois ‘who was told he probably hadn’t many days longer to live, and he ought to make his peace with any enemies he might have.
He said the man he hated worst of all was a fellow named Brown in the next village. So Brown was sent for, and when he came the sick man began to say, in a voice as meek as Moses’, that he wanted to die at peace with all his fellow creatures, and he hoped he and Brown could now shake hands and bury all their enmity.
The scene was becoming altogether too pathetic for Brown who had to get out his handkerchief and wipe the gathering tears from his eyes. After a parting that would have softened the heart of a grindstone, Brown had about reached the room door when the sick man rose up on his elbow and called out to him: “But see here, Brown, if I should happen to get well, mind, the old grudge stands.”’
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