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’s, 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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