Semi=weekly graphic., 1897-06-05

BATE
 that ain't me. There's another man named Lincoln living in Massachusetts, and the votes were no doubt cast for him. J
 Ut was just before dinner, " relates one of those present, land as he passed through the hall Of the tavern he took down from the wall the gong used to announce meals and had 1t under the center table in the parlor. The thing made q deafening noise when struck and had so often disturbed our morning slumber7 hat Lincoln had threatened more t once to do away with it. Meanwh-1e the instrument had been missed, and the landlord and all hands commenced a thorough search for it oyer the house, and even into the stable, but without success. At last Lincoln began to look so guilty and foolish that at his request we stole into the parlor, and while l held the door he slipped the gong from under the table, hung it again in it's accustomed place on the wall, and then the man who had less than an hour before received the notice of his vote for vice president at the Philadelphia convention, ran up stairs to his room three steps at jump. ;
 Lincoln was fond of music, although unable to produce any himself. He often of evenings at the tavern or when riding through the country would require Ward H. Lamon to sing some of the songs for which the latter was justly famous "One little sad song, " relates Lamon, a simple ballad entitled Twenty Years Ago, was above all others, his favorite. He had no especial fondness for operatio music. lie loved simple ballads and ditties, such as the common people sing, whether of the comic or pathetic kind, but no one in the list touched his great heart as did the song of Twenty Years Ago. Many a time in the old days of our familiar friendship on tho Illinois circuit and after at the White House, when he and were alone, have I seen him in tears while I was rendering in my poor way that h9mely melody The following verses seemed to affect Mr. Lincoln moro deeply than any other. ''I've wandered to the village, Tom I've sat
 beneath the tree
 Upon the schoolhousc playground that shelter
 ed you and me.
 But mono were loft td craot me Tom and 4a,,
 were left ta l.2G4
 Who played with us upon the green some twen
 ty years ago
 "Near by the spring upon the elm. YOU know
 cut your name.
 Your sWeetheart'S just beneath it, Tom and
 you did inino the same.
 some heart!ess wretch has peeled the bark.
 twas dying sure, but slow, Just as she died whose name you cut some
 twenty years ago.
 My lids have long been dry, Tom, but tear
 came to my eyes
 ] thought of her l loved so we'll those earls
 broken ties
 visited the old chuTehyard and took som,
 flowers to strew
 Upon the graves of those we loved some twenty
 years ago.
 This song undoubtedly awakened in MT. Linooln's mind the memory of Anne Rutledgo, and the peculiar charm and sentiment in its lines carried him back to the days of his first love. Lamon writes: This is the song MT. Lincoln called for and the one I sang to him in the vicinity of Antietam battlefield and which the New York World distorted 'A1'0 ss'S'd ~ tSfo4t4iiS ana deplOrable scandal aring the political campaign Of le6& lie was at the time weary and sad. As l knew it would, the song only deepened his sadness. then did what l had done many times before-I recall ed hlm from the fit of melancholy in which he was promo to descend by come air, singing also snatch from 'Pleayune Butler, which brole the spell Of the little sad song and restored somewhat his accustomed easy huinor. Ard this reminds ma of one CT two 1t tie rhythmic shots l often fired at him hls mnlsnaaolv 'aaeas and it wac