Thus it was that I first heard of _Josh Billings_. In the course of my voyage from Aspinwall to New York, while seated on the deck of the steamer, listening to the drolleries of a group of very convivial passengers, and gliding along the coast of Cuba in the brightness, sheen, and splendor of a tropical night, I heard many of his best things recited, and his name frequently quoted as that of one who had already taken his place in American literature. Oliver Wendell Holmes I had known for years, Artemus Ward was a household name in California, James Russell Lowell had become a familiar acquaintance through the “Biglow Papers;” but who was _Josh Billings_? I asked my _compagnons de voyage_, but all they knew of him was that he was a very clever fellow who had written some very clever things. Whether he lived in New York State, Pennsylvania, Vermont, or Missouri, no one could tell me, nor could I get any satisfactory information as to the journal in which his articles had first appeared, what his antecedents were, or whether the name attached to his writings was that of his parentage and christening, or merely a whimsical _nomme de plume_. Long after my arrival in New York the mystery remained unsolved. I applied to literary friends for its solution, but all they seemed to know was that various smart things had run the round of the papers with the signature of “_Josh Billings_” to them, but in what paper they had originated or by whom they were written none could give me information. My friend George Arnold, a well-known wit of the _New York Leader_, knew of my anxiety. Meeting me one day at Crook and Duff’s Restaurant, the mid-day rallying point of most of the genial spirits of New York, he drew me aside and gravely asked-- “Have you found out yet who _Josh Billings_ is?” “I have not,” I answered. “Do you know?” “Yes; but keep it dark. Only five of his friends have been let into the secret. It would not do to let the world know. His position would be damaged.” “Who is it?” I demanded eagerly. “Is it Hosea Biglow under a new name?” “No; somebody better known.” “Horace Greeley?” I suggested, interrogatively. “No. A still greater man. Can’t you guess?” “Really, I cannot. Don’t keep me in suspense. Tell me.” “The author is ----” and my friend paused--“the author of _Josh Billings_ is none other than--President Lincoln!”