Mr. Lincoln's direct answer to this was to give Stephen stinging slap
between the shoulder-blades.

"God bless the boy!" he cried. "He has thought it out. Bob, take that
down for the Press and Tribune as coming from a rising young politician
of St. Louis."

"Why," Stephen blurted out, "I--I thought you were an Abolitionist, Mr.
Lincoln."

"Mr. Brice," said Mr. Lincoln, "I have as much use for the Boston
Liberator as I have for the Charleston Courier. You may guess how much
that is. The question is not whether we shall or shall not have slavery,
but whether slavery shall stay where it is, or be extended according to
Judge Douglas's ingenious plan. The Judge is for breeding worms. I am for
cauterizing the sore so that it shall not spread. But I tell you, Mr.
Brice, that this nation cannot exist half slave and half free."

Was it the slap on the back that opened Stephen's eyes? It was certain
that as they returned to the tavern the man at his side was changed. He
need not have felt chagrined. Men in high places underestimated Lincoln,
or did not estimate him at all. Affection came first. The great warm
heart had claimed Stephen as it claimed all who came near it.

The tavern was deserted save for a few stragglers. Under the dim light at
the bar Mr. Lincoln took off his hat and drew the Judge's letter from the
lining.

"Mr. Stephen," said he, "would you like to come to Freeport with me
to-morrow and hear the debate?"