persuaded him to raise the fee to $5,000, and six leading lawyers of
the state testified that that sum was a moderate charge. Lincoln sued
the road for the larger amount and won his case. It is a matter of
interest that at that time the vice-president of the railroad was
George B. McClellan.

It was Lincoln's habit always to go to the heart of a case. Quibbles
did not interest him. The non-professional public who have attended
jury trials will not easily forget the monotonous "I object" of the
attorneys, usually followed by, "I except to the ruling of the court,"
and "The clerk will note the exception." Lincoln generally met the
objections by the placid remark, "I reckon that's so." Thus he gave up
point after point, apparently giving away his case over and over again,
until his associates were brought to the verge of nervous prostration.
After giving away six points he would fasten upon the seventh, which
was the pivotal point of the case, and would handle that so as to win.
This ought to have been satisfactory, but neither Herndon nor his other
associates ever got used to it.

Lincoln put his conscience into his legal practise to a greater degree
than is common with lawyers. He held (with Blackstone) that law is for
the purpose of securing justice, and he would never make use of any
technicality for the purpose of thwarting justice. When others
maneuvered, he met them by a straightforward dealing. He never did or
could take an unfair advantage. On the wrong side of a case, he was
worse than useless to his client, and he knew it. He would never take
such a case if it could be avoided. His partner Herndon tells how he
gave some free and unprofessional advice to one who offered him such a
case: "Yes, there is no reasonable doubt but that I can gain your case
for you. I can set a whole neighborhood at loggerheads; I can distress