*3Iie jeWjhood of 
 
 Iff b ra h a mJTnco 1 n 
 
 J. Rogers Gore 
 
Stage-Coach Days 
 
 in 
 
 The Bluegrass 
 
 By 
 J. Winston Coleman, Jr. 
 
 FOR nearly three generations, stage-coaches and taverns 
 figured prominently in the lives of the people of central 
 Kentucky, and it is of this romantic period that Mr. 
 Coleman writes in "Stage-Coach Days in the Bluegrass." 
 
 The work is the first complete account of Kentucky's stage- 
 coaches and taverns, and in its preparation Mr. Coleman has 
 delved deep into their history and consulted a great store of 
 documents, old newspapers, reports, reminiscences and other 
 historical data. 
 
 The difficulties of stage travel, the prominent position of the 
 drivers, travelers' experiences, opposition lines and accidents, 
 highwaymen, taverns and tavern life, turnpikes and toll-gates 
 are among the subjects included. 
 
 The attractiveness of the book is enhanced by twenty-five 
 illustrations from old prints, pictures, and original documents 
 which give an added interest to this fascinating narrative. 
 
 Illustrated $2.50 
 
 The Standard Press 
 
 220 South First St. Louisville, Ky. 
 
9fie jBoijfiood of 
 
 ffbrahamffncofn m 
 
 J. Tvogers Gore 
 
 I 
 
 
LINCOLN ROOM 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 
 LIBRARY 
 
 MEMORIAL 
 
 the Class of 1901 
 
 founded by 
 
 HARLAN HOYT HORNER 
 
 and 
 
 HENRIETTA CALHOUN HORNER 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2012 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://archive.org/details/boyhoodofabrahamliOOgore 
 
THE BOYHOOD OF 
 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
The old Stone House where Abe and Austin often stopped 
 on their way to and from the Hodgen Mill 
 
THE BOYHOOD OF 
 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 By 
 
 J. ROGERS GORE 
 
 FROM THE SPOKEN NARRATIVES OF 
 AUSTIN GOLLAHER 
 
 Illustrated from Photographs 
 
 * 
 
 LOUISVILLE 
 THE STANDARD PRINTING COMPANY 
 
 INCORPORATED 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
Copyright 1921 
 
 The Bobbs-Merrill Company 
 
 Copyright 1935 
 
 The Standard Printing Co., Inc. 
 
 Printed in the United States of America 
 
 PRESS OF 
 
 THE STANDARD PRINTING CO.. INC. 
 
 BOOK MANUFACTURERS 
 
 LOUISVILLE. KY. 
 

 PREFACE 
 
 The following stories about the boy Abra- 
 ham Lincoln were given to me at intervals, 
 during a period of four or five years, by 
 Austin Gollaher, who spent all his life 
 among the hills of LaRue County, Ken- 
 tucky, having been born in that county in 
 the year 1806, and having died there on Feb- 
 ruary 22, 1898. 
 
 Twenty-five years ago, when I was on 
 The LaRue County Herald, a weekly news- 
 paper published at Hodgenville, Kentucky, 
 the town of my birth and upbringing, I 
 found much pleasure in visiting the home 
 of Mr. Gollaher, and drawing from him 
 these tales of the days when he and Lin- 
 coln, children of the wilderness, played in 
 the woods, and along Knob Creek, upon 
 the banks of which the boy Austin Gollaher 
 lived when the Lincolns moved from Cave 
 Spring Farm to the Knob Creek hills. 
 
 Mr. Gollaher was unschooled, but he pos - 
 
PREFACE 
 
 sessed a keen intellect, and talked interest- 
 ingly and intelligently of his and Lincoln's 
 childhood in LaRue County. In answer to 
 my questions Mr. Gollaher, little by little, 
 related the narratives quite free from inten- 
 tional embellishment, I feel sure. 
 
 In following these pages, however, the 
 reader is asked to bear in mind that they are 
 leaves from the loving memory of an old 
 man. Abraham Lincoln was, in the recollec- 
 tion of Austin Gollaher, the great event ; he 
 was at once playmate and prophet, the day's 
 companion and the man for the ages. Mr. 
 Gollaher saw the boy through the splendor 
 of the man's later years, and while he sought 
 a scrupulous truth to fact — for he ever made 
 probity his watchword — it would have been 
 extraordinary, if not impossible, for his nar- 
 ration of early youth to escape the coloring 
 and the glamour of an imperishable name. 
 
 It is undoubtedly true that no one, except 
 the writer, preserved the data from which 
 this series of stories has been written. I did 
 so because they were of great personal in- 
 
PREFACE 
 
 terest to me, and not with any thought at the 
 time of offering them to the public. But 
 since every word about Lincoln has become 
 precious I feel it my duty and my pleasure 
 to give to the world these simple stories, sim- 
 ply told, of the great American's birth, in- 
 fancy and childhood. They can hardly fail 
 to interest all who love his memory and the 
 many who know but little of these young 
 years in LaRue County. 
 
 Mr. Gollaher contended that some of the 
 historians were in error in saying that 
 Thomas Lincoln and his family moved to 
 Indiana in the fall of 1816; he said the Lin- 
 ?olns did not leave Kentucky until a year 
 later, as recorded in Mrs. Gollaher's diary, 
 or as he called it, "Mother's book of things"; 
 that he and his father went with the Lin- 
 colns to Middle Creek, a small stream, now 
 the dividing line between Hardin and La- 
 Rue Counties, to help with a cow which was 
 a little unruly, and that the journey was be- 
 gun one bright morning in November, 1817. 
 
 Mr. Gollaher associated Lincoln with 
 
PREFACE 
 
 practically all of his memories of pioneer 
 days in the Knob Creek hills. The essentials 
 of the stories are presented as he gave them 
 to me. In retelling them I believed it per- 
 missible to go back more than one hundred 
 years into the homes of the pioneers — to visit 
 among them — to be with the Lincolns, the 
 Gollahers, the Hodgens and others — to go 
 with Abe and Austin into the hills, to watch 
 thern at their play, to listen to and record 
 their conversations. I have, therefore, 
 dramatized Mr. Gollaher's reminiscences in 
 order to reconstruct with more realism the 
 life of the period, and have allowed Abe and 
 Austin, their friends and neighbors to talk 
 in character and so, naturally, reveal in 
 anecdote and experience the early life of the 
 boy who was to become one of the world's 
 greatest figures. 
 
 J. R. G. 
 Hodgenville, Kentucky. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I Austin Gollaher 13 
 
 II Looking Backward 20 
 
 III The Deliverance 26 
 
 IV Great Rejoicing 36 
 
 V A Wonderful Child 41 
 
 VI The Binding Tie 44 
 
 VII A New Home 51 
 
 VIII The Miraculous Escape 58 
 
 IX New Friends 68 
 
 X The Hodgens 77 
 
 XI Thirst for Learning 83 
 
 XII The Parson and the Coonskin Cap . 96 
 
 XIII Abraham and the Church .... 107 
 
 XIV A Friendly Contest 118 
 
 XV A Good Time Up There 126 
 
 XVI The Nickname 132 
 
 XVII The Explorers 140 
 
 XVIII The Fox and the Trap 149 
 
 XIX The Goat and the Coat 155 
 
 XX The Rescue 165 
 
 XXI Honey's Old Master 173 
 
 XXII Robinson Crusoe 181 
 
 XXIII Sarah's Swing 195 
 
 XXIV Stealing Time 200 
 
 XXV Austin and the Coon 208 
 
 XXVI Just Turned Around 213 
 
 XXVII The Ghost 219 
 
 XXVIII The Distress Signal 223 
 
CONTENTS— Continued 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 page 
 
 XXIX 
 
 The King's Little Boy 234 
 
 XXX 
 
 Two Prayers Just Alike 
 
 
 
 
 
 241 
 
 XXXI 
 
 Tell the Truth . . . 
 
 
 
 
 
 248 
 
 XXXII 
 
 The Right to Fight 
 
 
 
 
 
 254 
 
 XXXIII 
 
 Abe's Dream .... 
 
 
 
 
 
 260 
 
 XXXIV 
 
 Off the Sheep's Back . 
 
 
 
 
 
 265 
 
 XXXV 
 
 The Human Tree 
 
 
 
 
 
 269 
 
 XXXVI 
 
 Where Is Indian Anner 
 
 
 
 
 
 277 
 
 XXXVII 
 
 A Fight and a Stranger 
 
 
 
 
 
 284 
 
 XXXVIII 
 
 For the Best .... 
 
 
 
 
 
 290 
 
 XXXIX 
 
 The Last of Billy . 
 
 
 
 
 
 296 
 
 XL 
 
 The End of Playtime . 
 
 
 
 
 
 303 
 
 XLI 
 
 The Parting of the Ways 
 
 
 
 
 
 312 
 
THE BOYHOOD OF 
 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
THE BOYHOOD OF 
 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 AUSTIN GOLLAHER 
 
 "God has been mighty good to me all of 
 these years/' said Mr. Gollaher. "He has 
 given me strength and health, and enough 
 sense to keep me always in the straight 
 and narrow path. In the closing days of 
 my life I am happy ; my children are kind 
 to me, and so are my friends and neigh- 
 bors, and I have lots to be thankful for. 
 Why!" he said seriously, "even now my 
 eyesight is pretty good and I can read 
 my Bible and teach my Sunday-school 
 class." 
 
 For thirty years he was a deacon in a 
 13 
 
14 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN" 
 
 little Baptist church which nestled among 
 the hills near his home. There he preached 
 and sang and taught until the weight of 
 time weakened his strong body and forced 
 him to the seclusion of his cabin home. 
 
 Mr. Gollaher loved children, and was 
 always pleased when he could visit a 
 schoolhouse and tell some of his favorite 
 stories of "Abe." He was a good talker 
 and, while his language was not entirely 
 free of grammatical errors, what he said 
 was always sensible and entertaining, and 
 his advice to boys and girls always whole- 
 some. The children returned his love, 
 and would often cling to him, pat his 
 ruddy cheeks and beg him to tell more 
 stories from the Bible, or about his boy 
 friend, "Abe." 
 
 Mr. Gollaher was a stalwart man, and 
 even in his old age was strong and ath- 
 letic. He was six feet high, broad-shoul- 
 dered and full of untiring energy. He 
 greeted stranger and friend with a cordial 
 hand-shake and never failed to say: "I 
 
> 
 u 
 
AUSTIN GOLLAHER 15 
 
 hope your health and the health of your 
 family is good." Particularly did he ask 
 after the health of the people of the neigh- 
 borhood. If he found illness anywhere he 
 would lose little time in going to the bed- 
 side of the afflicted. He knew something 
 of medicine and was glad when he could 
 contribute to the comforts of the 
 suffering. 
 
 He was a leader in his community and 
 there was none who disliked him. As he 
 rode his mule through the hills, he would 
 often break into song, the folks along the 
 way joining with him. He used to say he 
 had the biggest band of singers in the 
 world, that even the birds belonged to his 
 choir. 
 
 Mr. Gollaher was without personal am- 
 bition, but was always eager to assist in 
 any project for the upbuilding of the 
 neighborhood. He was one of the leading 
 spirits and speakers in meetings called 
 for the advancement of pioneer interests. 
 In his younger days he was a fighter, al- 
 
16 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 though not quarrelsome, but after he was 
 twenty-five he settled into peaceful ways 
 and would say, laughingly, that all the 
 fights of his youth could have been 
 avoided. He found more pleasure in fell- 
 ing trees to build cabins than he would 
 have found in laying corner-stones for 
 mansions — more satisfying pleasure in 
 the hunt than he would have found in 
 business or politics. 
 
 "I regret that I neglected to well edu- 
 cate myself," he said. "Abe always tried 
 to get me to learn from the books, but I 
 couldn't at that time see the need of it. 
 Why, do you know," he exclaimed, "that 
 had I been well educated I would have 
 been Abe's law partner ? And then, when 
 he became president, he would have ap- 
 pointed me to a judgeship. I learned to 
 read and write and figure pretty well, be- 
 cause Abe begged me to, and I have been 
 glad of it always, because I was able to 
 read of the greatness of my boyhood 
 companion. 
 
AUSTIN GOLLAHER 17 
 
 "The fact is," continued Mr. Gollaher, 
 "I studied hard for a while, and learned 
 fast, but I didn't keep at it; there were 
 too many attractions in the hills, and I 
 would neglect my studies any time to go 
 hunting. In those days I believed a coon- 
 skin more valuable than a book, and every 
 time my dog barked, I went to the woods. 
 I spent lots of my time in taking coons 
 from the hollow trees. But notwithstand- 
 ing I whiled away a great many hours 
 loafing with my dog I was better educated 
 than most of the folks in our community ; 
 in fact, I was considered such a smart fel- 
 low that they put me to teaching school 
 when I was not much more than a young- 
 ster. I taught over there where the 
 Wilkins post-office now stands, and was 
 fairly successful, though largely because 
 Mrs. Sarah Hodgen helped me with many 
 little things I did not understand. I 
 taught two terms, and then went back to 
 the woods with my dog and my gun." 
 
 While no record of it can be found, it is 
 
18 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 said that at one time Mr. Gollaher was a 
 justice of the peace in LaRue County, and 
 I remember that some of the people in his 
 neighborhood called him " Judge," a title 
 he did not like. "The office is small," he 
 would say, "and the title is big, and the 
 misfit is bad. It reminds me of a small 
 girl diked out in her mother's dress." 
 
 On one occasion he was trying two 
 young boys for disturbing public worship. 
 The evidence showed that the culprits had 
 thrown rocks against the church house 
 during service. Mr. Gollaher heard the 
 testimony, and was preparing to render 
 his decision when the mother of one of the 
 boys arose and addressed the court, 
 saying : 
 
 "Jedge, ef you'll let the boys go this 
 time we will give them a good whuppin'. ' 
 
 "I can't do that," replied Mr. Golla- 
 her; "I must sentence these youngsters." 
 And he commanded the boys and their 
 mothers to stand up. "The offense is a 
 serious one," he said, "one for which no 
 
AUSTIN GOLLAHER 19 
 
 excuse can be offered, except that these 
 boys have not been properly brought up, 
 that they have had no religious training. 
 I therefore sentence the prisoners at the 
 bar, together with their mothers, to six 
 months " 
 
 He paused and both women began to 
 weep, pleading : 
 
 "Fer Gawd's sake don't do that, Jedge 
 Gollaher!" 
 
 " Order in the court!" commanded the 
 judge. "As I was saying, I now sentence 
 the prisoners and their mothers to six 
 months' attendance at all services in the 
 church during that period. They will oc- 
 cupy the bench directly in front of the 
 pulpit — the Mourners ' Bench — w here 
 they will give strict attention to the teach- 
 ing of the Bible." 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 LOOKING BACKWARD 
 
 When Mr. Gollaher talked of "Abe" 
 he glowed with enthusiasm. He believed 
 implicitly that God gave Lincoln to the 
 world, and watched over him and guided 
 him that He might use him as an instru- 
 ment to do a great work. He recalled in- 
 stances in the child life of Lincoln that he 
 believed miraculous — things which could 
 not have occurred had not God's guiding 
 hand been present. 
 
 He said Abe was smarter than many of 
 the older people and that he was always 
 doing or saying something that astonished 
 them ; that his solemn wit was refreshing 
 to those who understood it, his philosophy 
 and wisdom frequently beyond belief. 
 
 20 
 
LOOKING BACKWARD 21 
 
 "Big," he said, raising his hands above 
 his head, "is not the right word to de- 
 scribe Abe either in mind or body. I'll 
 tell you that boy towered ! He was nearly 
 a head taller than I, yet I was three 
 years older; and when it came to being 
 smart he was way yonder ahead of me. 
 God did it ; God made him big in body and 
 mind so that he could work hard and 
 never tire — so that he would not give up 
 until the job was finished." 
 
 In describing Abe's appearance, Mr. 
 Gollaher said: "His legs were long, his 
 arms were long, his ears were long and 
 his head was long. He was the longest 
 boy in the world. He could walk farther, 
 throw farther and hear farther than any 
 other boy. His eyes were as mild as the 
 moon, but 'pon my word, he could see 
 through these hills here," and he waved 
 his hand toward a chain of hills that al- 
 most circled his home. 
 
 "But I felt mighty hard toward Abe 
 once upon a time, just for a little while," 
 
22 THE BOYHOOD OP LINCOLN 
 
 said Mr. Gollaher, a smile playing upon 
 his tobacco-stained lips. "You see, I 
 never heard a word from him until after 
 he was elected president, and I thought he 
 had entirely forgotten me — I thought 
 maybe he thought I was too common for 
 him to remember after he became so great. 
 But I was mistaken, and I now believe 
 Abe thought of me often, and loved me 
 just like he did when we were inseparable 
 playmates upon the hills and in the hol- 
 lows along Knob Creek. 
 
 "One time," he continued, "when Doc- 
 tor Jesse Rodman, who lived and died at 
 Hodgenville, was in Washington, he saw 
 Abe, and Abe asked all about me, and sent 
 word to me that he would pay my ex- 
 penses if I would come to Washington to 
 see him. But I didn't go, because I was 
 always afraid to ride on a train of cars. 
 Abe also told Doctor Rodman that shortly 
 after he moved to Indiana he learned how 
 to read and write pretty well; that he 
 wrote two letters to me and gave them to 
 
LOOKING BACKWARD 23 
 
 passers-by coming this way, and asked 
 that they hand them along to others until 
 they should finally reach me. But I never 
 got them. Abe wrote another letter to me 
 from somewhere in Illinois, but I didn't 
 get that either. He told Doctor Rodman 
 that he thought maybe I had died, or that 
 we had all moved away. Why," the old 
 man said seriously, "I'd give this whole 
 farm for those letters right now. 
 
 "Abe talked a long time to Doctor Rod- 
 man, " continued Mr. Gollaher, "and they 
 ate dinner together there in the White 
 House. He asked all about me, and told 
 the doctor about the time I pulled him out 
 of Knob Creek with a fishing pole and 
 saved him from drowning, and also about 
 his billy-goat that stuck a stob in its belly 
 and was killed. He spoke freely of every- 
 body he used to know here, and tears came 
 into his eyes, Doctor Rodman said, as he 
 recalled old Mrs. Sarah Hodgen, the 
 widow of Robert, the owner of the old 
 Hodgen Mill over there at Hodgenville. 
 
24 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 She and two of her sons, John and Isaac, 
 were among the best friends Abe ever had 
 in the world. As between the Hodgen 
 boys Abe loved John the most, because 
 John ran the mill, where Abe used to play. 
 John Hodgen thought Abe was a wonder- 
 ful youngster, and he did lots of nice 
 things for him. 
 
 "Abe also asked about my father and 
 mother and many friends who had passed 
 to the other world. He loved my father 
 and mother because they were always 
 good to him. Lots and lots of times 
 mother used to hug both Abe and me to 
 her breast and tell us Bible stories. 
 
 "He told Doctor Rodman that he had 
 known few sadder days than the day when 
 he said good-by to me and crossed Middle 
 Creek on his way with his parents to Indi- 
 ana. He said he was coming over here 
 some of these days to see what was left of 
 us ; but he never came. I reckon it would 
 have made him feel bad to have seen how 
 things have changed — to have seen the 
 
LOOKING BACKWARD 25 
 
 graves of the people who were so good to 
 him when he was a boy. Abe was always 
 sad, anyhow, and seemed like he was wor- 
 ried about something; every day of his 
 child and boy life here he seemed that 
 way, and I guess he never outgrew it. 
 
 "The story of the birth of Abe, as I 
 heard it from my mother and father, im- 
 pressed me so much," said Mr. Gollaher, 
 "that I have dreaded winter ever since. 
 To this day, when I hear cold winds howl- 
 ing my mind goes back to that terrible 
 blizzard on the morning of February 12, 
 1809, and I see old Mr. Isom Enlow over 
 there near the Cave Spring Farm, stum- 
 bling and falling as he plows through the 
 snow — lost in the gray woods, in the blind- 
 ing storm. And then I see him as he falls 
 over the cliff and struggles up the hill to 
 the Lincoln cabin, where he found Mrs. 
 Lincoln and little Sarah and the baby, 
 Abe, half starved and almost frozen. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 THE DELIVEKANCE 
 
 The winter of 1809 was a severe one. It 
 came a little late, but it came suddenly, 
 with its blighting winds, its ice and snow 
 and low-hanging clouds, and it dealt deso- 
 lation to field and forest in Kentucky. 
 Those pioneers who lazily lounged in the 
 sunshine of November and December, 
 failing to prepare for the winter, were 
 hopelessly caught in the grip of that 
 mighty blizzard. Cattle and game which 
 did not find shelter were driven to the 
 slaughter-pens of the storm. Even the 
 well-to-do suffered unusual inconve- 
 niences and hardships, and there was much 
 sickness and many deaths among the fam- 
 ilies of the pioneers in the remoter wilds. 
 
 26 
 
THE DELIVERANCE 27 
 
 The cold came in January and con- 
 tinued through February, with only brief 
 intervals of mild weather. On February 
 11, 1809, Isom Enlow, a brawny and well- 
 to-do backwoodsman, taking advantage of 
 a likely morning — a lull in the storm — 
 went to visit a neighbor who lived six or 
 seven miles from the Enlow home in the 
 South Fork Eiver section of LaEue 
 County. Early in the afternoon, while 
 Mr. Enlow was yet in the home of his 
 neighbor, the blizzard renewed its attack, 
 continuing bitterly into the night, so that 
 he found it necessary to remain until the 
 morning of the twelfth, as neither man 
 nor beast could withstand the onslaught 
 of the storm. But on the morning he set 
 out afoot, in spite of protests, for he was 
 anxious to quiet the fears of his family 
 who had expected him the day before. 
 He threw his strong body against the 
 wind and trudged along, fighting his way 
 inch by inch over a trail deeply hidden 
 and treacherous. 
 
28 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 The storm, after a brief lull, was soon 
 again at its height, the stiff wind blowing 
 the dry snow from the hills, filling the 
 hollows and drifting deep along the fields. 
 Mr. Enlow traveled as one under a mighty 
 load ; his finger-tips frozen, his feet clum- 
 sily numb. Lashed by the wind and snow, 
 his eyes were burned and his sight was so 
 dimmed that the big trees were as dancing 
 shadows; confusion was rioting in his 
 brain, and his strong heart was perilously 
 weak. He must find shelter quickly or 
 perish. His strength was waning rapidly, 
 and he felt that numbness creeping into 
 his body which frequently produces indif- 
 ference — the indifference that causes one 
 to lie down, smiling, into the arms of 
 death. 
 
 But to such a man there was no thought 
 of surrender; he was a born fighter; his 
 was the red blood of the frontiersman. It 
 might have been easier, even more pleas- 
 ant, to have given up the fight and died, 
 but the predominating desire in his heart 
 
THE DELIVERANCE 29 
 
 was to outwit the storm and to escape the 
 chagrin of defeat. There were friendly 
 cliffs and caves in the neighborhood, but 
 in the storm's wild confusion the half- 
 conscious man could not locate them. Yet 
 he knew that he must find a refuge where 
 he could rest for a few moments or he 
 would lose the battle. At last he crawled 
 under a heavy clump of bushes, roofed 
 with snow and ice. 
 
 There, not more than two miles from 
 the home of the friend whose hearthstone 
 he had left an hour before, the pioneer 
 was lost in a neighborhood where, under 
 ordinary conditions, he would have 
 known well every foot of soil, where even 
 the trees would have served him as guide- 
 posts. But there was no fright in the 
 stout heart of Isom Enlow. He peered 
 through the lattice of ice, hoping to find 
 a familiar landmark that would enable 
 him to get his bearings and to resume his 
 journey. But his beclouded eyes saw 
 nothing save the whirling mists. He 
 
30 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 rubbed his limbs and beat himself with his 
 big frozen hands to warm his blood — to 
 make ready for another round with the 
 storm — then, pulling himself to his feet, 
 he moved slowly on among the snowclad 
 trees. 
 
 Somewhere in that vicinity, Thomas 
 Lincoln had built a cabin upon a hill — a 
 one-room cabin of small logs. Isom En- 
 low had helped to build it, but now every- 
 thing was strange to him. He traveled as 
 one in a dense fog. Those great sheets of 
 snow were waving around him and above 
 him. Suddenly, without warning, the 
 stalwart woodsman plunged down a preci- 
 pice ten feet high and rolled to the snow- 
 covered rocks below. Stunned and bewil- 
 dered, he clamored to his feet. Then 
 smiled hopefully, for he had fallen over 
 the cliff sheltering the cave-spring at the 
 foot of the steep hill upon which Thomas 
 Lincoln had built his cabin. 
 
 "With renewed energy, Mr. Enlow scram- 
 bled up the hill and pushed his way, unin- 
 
THE DELIVERANCE 31 
 
 vited, into the cabin. It was miserably 
 desolate and cold. He staggered to the 
 fireplace to find only a few smoldering 
 coals buried in the ashes. There came a 
 faint cry from the corner of the room. 
 Upon a bedstead, made of saplings on 
 which was a tick of straw, lay a woman 
 and a little girl, both too weak from cold 
 and hunger and illness to speak except in 
 the faintest whisperings. 
 
 "Oh, I am so ill, and I am afraid my 
 baby is dead," the woman said in a sob- 
 bing whimper. ' ' Won 't you do something 
 for us?" she begged. 
 
 Rubbing his eyes and drawing closer to 
 the bed, Mr. Enlow saw the little girl; 
 then he said, "Mrs. Lincoln, this is Isom 
 Enlow; don't you recognize me? The lit- 
 tle girl is alive and will soon be all right." 
 
 "Not the little girl, Mr. Enlow," an- 
 swered the faint quivering voice ; "I have 
 a baby, a boy, born early this morning. 
 Oh, Mr. Enlow, do something for him," 
 she pleaded. 
 
32 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 The backwoodsman raised the scant 
 covering and there lay an infant, blue 
 from cold, with nothing over it but the 
 light bed-clothes. The little drawn face 
 had upon it the imprint of death, and Mr. 
 Enlow believed he had come too late. 
 
 There was not a piece of wood in the 
 cabin, nothing with which to rekindle the 
 fire. Hurriedly he seized an ax and went 
 again into the storm. Beating the snow 
 and ice from limbs and twigs, he broke 
 them into pieces, and then, realizing how 
 precious the moments were, he ran back 
 into the cabin with barely enough kin- 
 dling to restart the fast dying embers. Out 
 and back he went again and again until 
 the fire finally leaped high and bright in 
 the stick-chimney. Then Mr. Enlow 
 warmed the bed-clothing and wrapped it 
 about the mother and her baby. 
 
 He rubbed them gently with his rough 
 hands and soothed Mrs. Lincoln with 
 promises that he would soon make them 
 more comfortable. Continuing to apply 
 
THE DELIVERANCE 33 
 
 the warm covering, the backwoodsman 
 soon was rewarded with a faint whimper 
 from the infant and a glance of gratitude 
 from the mother. Enlow searched every- 
 where in the cabin for a morsel of food, 
 but the rough shelves were as bare as the 
 walls. He thought of game in the fields 
 and woods, but everything had sought 
 shelter, and besides it would be sheer folly 
 to go out into the storm again. 
 
 But something must be done to get food 
 for the mother and her children. He re- 
 membered that in his pocket was a small 
 earthen jar of wild turkey grease which 
 he used to clean the rifles of his gun. In 
 that grease there was nourishment, per- 
 haps ; at least he must try it in this dire 
 emergency. Adding some boiling water, 
 Mr. Enlow made what he called soup, and 
 after much persuasion Mrs. Lincoln 
 sipped some of the unpleasant concoction. 
 Then he dipped a string into the melted 
 grease and put one end of it into the 
 mouth of the infant. 
 
34 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 Never did physician watch more closely 
 at the bedside of his patient than did Isom 
 Enlow watch for sign of life on that win- 
 try twelfth of February in the year 1809. 
 
 The little girl, Sarah Lincoln, sipped 
 the hot greasy water, and insisted in her 
 childish way that her mother drink more 
 of the bitter stuff. When Isom Enlow r 
 took the cup from the hand of the little 
 girl and said to Mrs. Lincoln "Drink," 
 she obeyed him mechanically and without 
 thought of herself. Her heart and her 
 hope were in the baby — the boy — that 
 "long, eel-like string of famished flesh," 
 as Austin Gollaher put it, lying there by 
 her side upon the tick of straw. Almost 
 too weak to turn her throbbing head, she 
 w r atched for further signs of life in the in- 
 fant and when she saw its purple lips 
 tighten upon the grease-soaked string, 
 happy tears came into her eyes and she 
 said, "The child will live." 
 
 The improvement in the baby was as 
 tonic to Mrs. Lincoln ; she immediately be- 
 
THE DELIVERANCE 35 
 
 came brighter and stronger, ready to wage 
 the winning fight — that fight which gave 
 to America its great commoner — the em- 
 bodiment of the promise that all are cre- 
 ated equal and that there shall be neither 
 master nor bond-servant. 
 
 But food must be found somewhere; 
 the mother and her children must have 
 nourishment. So Enlow told Mrs. Lin- 
 coln he was going to the nearest neigh- 
 bor's, and that he would return during the 
 day with food and help. Then with a word 
 of cheer, and a wave of the hand, he 
 stooped through the low door of the cabin 
 out into the woods again to face the storm. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 GREAT REJOICING 
 
 The storm had abated somewhat, but 
 the skies were still oppressively gray and 
 the wind still strong enough to break the 
 weakest twigs and limbs and scatter them 
 over the fields and through the forests. 
 Isom Enlow stood upon the high hill in 
 front of the cabin, his heavy coat of skins 
 pulled tightly about him. He was unde- 
 cided. Should he go to Gabriel Kirkpat- 
 rick's, two miles to the west, or to the 
 home of Jimmie McDougal, a good two 
 and a half miles to the south, or his own 
 home some four miles to the east? Believ- 
 ing it his duty to let his family know that 
 he had safely escaped the blizzard ? he 
 turned his face eastward. 
 36 
 
GREAT REJOICING 37 
 
 His steps were slow, but there was de- 
 termination in his heart and soul. His 
 mission was one of love and charity — 
 those two beautiful qualities so deeply 
 rooted in pioneer hearts — and if success- 
 ful three lives would be saved. If unsuc- 
 cessful, if he should perish out there in 
 
 the woods, it would mean But at the 
 
 thought his muscles grew tense, his head 
 lifted, determination blazed on his red 
 rough face, and he trudged forth along 
 the pathless waste. 
 
 He had not gone far when his keen ears, 
 deeply hidden beneath the cape-like collar 
 of his fur coat, caught the faint sound of 
 crunching snow. His grip tightened on 
 his rifle and he stood at attention behind 
 a tree, ready to send a bullet through the 
 heart of a deer. But there upon the brow 
 of a near-by hill, picking their way with 
 precision, were a man and a woman and a 
 mule. Their heads were bowed so that 
 they did not see Mr. Enlow, who shouted 
 to attract them. 
 
38 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 "Gollaher! Oh, Gollaher!" excitedly 
 called the pioneer. "The Jehovah sent 
 you ; I am glad ; the Lord has been good 
 to me this day!" And upon his knees, a 
 mile from the Lincoln cabin, there among 
 the snow-drifts, Isom Enlow thanked God 
 for His merciful goodness. 
 
 Mrs. Gollaher knew of the expected 
 confinement of Mrs. Lincoln, and not- 
 withstanding the blizzard she and her 
 husband had struggled to reach the little 
 cabin in time. Strapped to the back of 
 the mule were sacks containing corn-meal 
 and bacon, dried apples and peaches, 
 roots of sassafras bushes for tea, butter 
 and eggs and bed-clothing. Following the 
 trail Mr. Enlow had made, the three 
 friends were soon spreading good cheer 
 before a blazing wood fire in Thomas Lin- 
 coln 's cabin home. 
 
 While Enlow and Gollaher chopped 
 wood in the forest and piled it high within 
 easy reach of the house, Mrs. Gollaher, af- 
 ter Mrs. Lincoln and Sarah were made 
 
GREAT REJOICING 39 
 
 comfortable, wrapped the new baby in a 
 blanket of wool and held it close to her 
 warm motherly bosom until a whimper, 
 a faint wail, assured her that all present 
 danger was past. Then there was great 
 rejoicing in the rude little home among 
 the trees, and Isom Enlow, his long hair 
 falling back from his high forehead, lifted 
 his hands to the very roof of the cabin and 
 said, "I thank thee, Lord, for the strength 
 thou gave to me this day." Then to Mrs. 
 Lincoln: "Name the child i Abraham' 
 after my son, of whom I am very fond." 
 
 "I will call him Abraham, for that 
 too was his grandfather's name," she re- 
 plied, a happy smile of gratitude upon her 
 face. 
 
 Note. — There is a tradition that Thomas Lincoln, 
 on the morning of the birth of his son, Abraham, in 
 going across the fields for a mid-wife, met Abraham 
 Enlow (a son of Isom Enlow) riding a horse, and that 
 he (Lincoln) borrowed the horse from young Enlow 
 and rode it to the home of "old Aunt Peggy Walters," 
 who, the tradition further says, ministered to Mrs. Lin- 
 coln. But Mr. Gollaher contended that this tradition is 
 in error; that Mr. Lincoln was not at home when Abra- 
 ham was born, and that he did not reach home until 
 the following day; that three or four days before the 
 birth of the son, he had gone to Elizabethtown, a dis- 
 tance of some fifteen miles from his home, to attend to 
 
40 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 an important business matter; that he expected to re- 
 turn the following day, but that neither man nor beast 
 could travel in that fearful blizzard and he was forced 
 to remain away until weather conditions improved; 
 that upon his return the following day he was sorely 
 grieved that his wife had given birth to their son under 
 such distressing circumstances, and that in tears, he 
 knelt by the bed of his wife and begged the forgiveness 
 of his "beautiful Nancy," as he always called her; that 
 in the early afternoon of the following day Mr. Lincoln 
 went to the home of a Mrs. Keith, a mid-wife, riding 
 a horse which he borrowed from Abraham Enlow, who 
 was on his way to the Hodgen Mill with a turn of corn, 
 and that the Enlow boy remained in the Lincoln cabin 
 until Mr. Lincoln returned with the old woman, who 
 relieved Mrs. Gollaher. 
 
 Peggy Walters was buried in the old South Ford 
 burying-ground, near Cave Spring or Lincoln Farm. A 
 crude stone on her grave shows that she was born in 
 1791, therefore she was but eighteen years old when 
 Abraham Lincoln was born. At that age she could 
 hardly have been a mid-wife. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 A WONDEKFUL CHILD 
 
 The stars came out that night, and the 
 pioneers heard the breaking of the 
 crusted snow beneath the feet of stirring 
 animals as they sought food in the valleys 
 and on the hills. 
 
 Under these frightful conditions, Abra- 
 ham Lincoln came into the world. On 
 the winds of a blizzard he came — across 
 the battle-fields of ice and snow, in the 
 roar of the hurricane — frozen and 
 starved. And there beneath a cabin roof, 
 through which his mother saw the morn- 
 ing stars among the shifting clouds, he 
 found life and made of it a wonderful and 
 a beautiful thing. 
 
 After weeks of nursing, the mother and 
 41 
 
42 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 the boy Abraham were carried in the 
 arms of Thomas Lincoln out into the sun- 
 shine; and there upon the hillside, above 
 the crystal water of the cave-spring, they 
 breathed deep of the healing spring air 
 and waxed strong. The child grew rap- 
 idly, so rapidly that parents and neigh- 
 bors were astonished. Jimmie McDougal 
 said: "If the Cave Spring Farm could 
 grow Indian corn like it's growing that 
 baby, Thomas Lincoln would raise such a 
 crop that he wouldn't know what to do 
 with it." 
 
 Abraham's face seemed stolid at times, 
 yet there was always an illuminating lit- 
 tle twinkle, a forerunner of the humor to 
 come. A wonderful child the pioneers 
 thought him, and none who ever saw him 
 even while he was yet toddling, forgot him 
 because of his size and his attractive 
 strangeness. In his babyhood, as later, he 
 obeyed his father and mother implicitly. 
 And his love for his mother and her "fool- 
 ishness" over little Abe were items of 
 
A WONDERFUL CHILD 43 
 
 neighborhood gossip. Some said that God 
 came down to the world that February 
 morning and went with Isom Enlow to 
 that hill where to-day is enshrined behind 
 polished marble those rough logs which 
 sheltered the great mother when she gave 
 to the world her immortal son. 
 
 " Somebody asked why God did not 
 quiet the storm," said Mr. Gollaher, "but 
 the folks replied by saying, "The myster- 
 ies of God can not be understood, and we 
 shall not try to understand them. ' It was 
 just the Master's way of doing things,'' 
 he continued. "I reckon He wanted to 
 give to the world an example of what a 
 baby born under such conditions could do 
 for the people. Had Abe been born some- 
 where in a big fine house, it might have 
 been lots harder for God to have kept self- 
 ishness out of his heart." 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE BINDING TIE 
 
 Over a century ago somebody blazed a 
 trail from the Knob Creek hills to the 
 south fork of Nolynn River, a distance of 
 five miles as the crow flies. The path 
 broadened as it was traveled by the set- 
 tlers until it became a small road over 
 which a horse could jog along with ease, 
 but it was used mostly as a footpath, 
 branching off here and there like the 
 limbs of a tree, leading here and there to 
 the pioneer homes of that large section of 
 country. 
 
 Along this path some time during the 
 summer of 1812, Mrs. Gollaher, the wife 
 of Thomas Gollaher, carefully made her 
 way westward. Tall and attractive, vig- 
 
 44 
 
THE BINDING TIE 45 
 
 orous physically and mentally, she was a 
 leader among the women of her day and 
 beloved because of her universal good- 
 ness. Under her strong arm Mrs. Golla- 
 her carried a rifle, and from her rawhide 
 belt swung a knife and an ax, while across 
 the young shoulders of her son, Austin, 
 who followed her that summer morning, a 
 rifle rested. They were prepared to de- 
 fend themselves against the possible at- 
 tack of some wild animal as they made 
 their way to the Cave Spring Farm, the 
 home of the Lincolns. 
 
 It was one of the poorest farms in that 
 whole section of wild country; but from 
 the spring in the cave flowed a pure cold 
 water, and it was this that attracted 
 Thomas Lincoln to the place. When his 
 friends tried to persuade him to move to 
 a community more settled, or to a farm 
 more fertile, he would always answer by 
 saying he could not leave the "good water 
 on the bad farm." Rich soil meant little 
 to Mr. Lincoln ; he was not a f armer, and 
 
46 THE BOYHOOD OP LINCOLN 
 
 the cultivating and growing of crops were 
 of small interest to him. He loved the 
 damp gray woods ; and the bark of the red 
 fox was more pleasing to him than the 
 rustle of growing corn. 
 
 " There's a gobbler " but before the 
 
 mother could complete the sentence, Aus- 
 tin's rifle cracked, and a big fat turkey 
 gobbler rolled over the cliff with a bullet 
 hole through its breast. Mrs. Gollaher 
 did not comment on the marksmanship of 
 her son, since she had seen him do the 
 same thing many times before. That day 
 they had turkey for dinner in the Lincoln 
 cabin, and that day Austin Gollaher, aged 
 six, and Abraham Lincoln, aged three, be- 
 came friends. 
 
 "Austin has brought Abraham a tur- 
 key, ' ' said Mrs. Gollaher. * i Shall we have 
 it for dinner?" Then back of the cabin 
 they kindled a fire, boiled the water and 
 picked the feathers from the big bird. 
 Mrs. Gollaher gave the wings to Sarah 
 Lincoln, and the claws to Abraham and 
 
THE BINDING TIE 47 
 
 Austin, saying: " Sarah can fan her 
 sweetheart with the wings and Abraham 
 and Austin can use the claws to scratch 
 the devil's eyes out if he ever comes about 
 them." 
 
 "I had, of course, seen Abe many times 
 before this visit, both in his home and 
 mine," said Mr. Gollaher, the man, "but 
 there had been something so strange about 
 him that I had paid little attention to him. 
 However, upon this occasion, something 
 new developed in him — something that 
 made me feel different toward him — and 
 I loved him. I wanted to cling to him, to be 
 with him so that I might watch his funny, 
 serious antics, each one having in it some- 
 thing I had never seen the like of before. 
 
 "He was different — he was unusually 
 amusing and at the same time pathetic. 
 Why, he even had a way of plucking a 
 wild rose, of picking up a leaf that was 
 different. And he looked at me in such a 
 knowing way that I was always expecting 
 his baby lips to open and tell me a sad or 
 
48 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 frightful story. Mrs. Lincoln called him 
 Abraham, but my mother and I called him 
 Abe. Abraham was too much for my boy- 
 tongue. Even after he became president 
 I called him Abe, for I loved it ; it carried 
 me back to the days of my childhood 
 among the hills here, and seemed to flood 
 my heart with memories of my most loved 
 playmate. To my mind there is no pret- 
 tier name than the old-time bob-tailed 
 name of Abe. 
 
 "Abe was a good-sized lad at three," 
 continued Mr. Gollaher, "but he would 
 not, or could not, talk. He just looked on 
 while I played around the spring, never 
 smiling or whimpering, or indicating in 
 any way that he wanted to do more than 
 follow where I led; and when I looked 
 back upon that first day of my real ac- 
 quaintance with Abe Lincoln and think 
 of the Great Leader of Men, following me, 
 it amuses me a great deal. 
 
 "I cut two sassafras sticks and 
 trimmed them. Placing a stick between 
 
THE BINDING TIE 49 
 
 Abe's long funny legs and straddling an- 
 other, I tried to interest him in playing 
 horse, but he only stood and looked at me. 
 Then I said to him: 'Hit your horse and 
 make it go.' Then he hit the stick-horse 
 with his switch and followed me around 
 the cliff which sheltered the spring. 
 
 "Abe wouldn't play much that after- 
 noon, but he stayed with me until mother 
 and I started home. I wanted to take him 
 along with me, but Mrs. Lincoln laughed 
 and said she couldn't ' spare' him. He 
 had impressed me so deeply that I could 
 not forget him, and, in my child mind, I 
 knew that my friendship for Abe Lincoln 
 was firmly and eternally established. For 
 days I thought of him; I wanted to see 
 him again ; I wanted to see if I could get 
 him to talk to me — to tell me one of those 
 strange stories I believed was in his soul, 
 and I annoyed my mother until she again 
 took me to see him. During the next visit, 
 Abe and I became better friends; that is 
 to say, Abe became more friendly with me. 
 
50 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 To my surprise, lie brought forth the two 
 stick-horses I had left with him and 
 lisped 'Horse' as he offered me one." 
 
 After this fashion, as related by Mr. 
 Gollaher, the lad, Austin, and the child, 
 Abe, products of the backwoods, estab- 
 lished a loyal friendship, and for a num- 
 ber of years were constant, almost 
 inseparable companions. In the heart of 
 Austin Gollaher, a heart which grew old 
 among his native hills, there was ever a 
 mellow, wonderful love for Abraham Lin- 
 coln, and it is said that when he came to 
 die out there among "his rocks and rills" 
 nearly a quarter of a century ago, his 
 withered old lips quivered "Abe" as his 
 soul took its flight. 
 
 There were those at his bedside who be- 
 lieved he spoke to Abe on the other side of 
 the River; that the backwoods boys had 
 met again, and that the immortal Lincoln, 
 who conquered greatly and who died a 
 martyr, was happy once more now that 
 his playmate had come to join him. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 A NEW HOME 
 
 In none of the pioneers was the spirit 
 of restlessness more active than in 
 Thomas Lincoln. He could not settle 
 down to the work of establishing himself 
 comfortably in the community in which 
 he lived. He intended to improve his 
 home conditions, to build a better and 
 larger house, just as soon as he could find 
 a location to suit his fancy. He was not 
 lazy, neither was he thrifty, but he was a 
 procrastinator to his own and to his fam- 
 ily's distress of mind and body. He spent 
 most of his time planning and put little 
 into execution. 
 
 He would stay at home closely for a 
 
 51 
 
52 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 period and would work industriously; 
 then, without ceremony, and hardly with- 
 out explanation, he would pick up his 
 flintlock rifle, cram his pockets full of 
 ammunition, grind his ax, sharpen his 
 knife and disappear in the wilderness. He 
 might be gone a day, a week, or a month. 
 His wife, who knew his habits well, did 
 not suffer uneasiness because of his fre- 
 quently prolonged absences. Indeed, 
 when he left she did not look for him back 
 until she found him pushing his way 
 through the door of their cabin home with 
 a cheery smile for his " beautiful Nancy." 
 His absence from home when his son 
 was born grieved him very much ; he wept 
 when he heard from Mrs. Gollaher the 
 story of his wife's suffering. But Mrs. 
 Gollaher did not let his grief stop her 
 from lecturing him on his domestic care- 
 lessness. She could see no excuse for the 
 empty larder, or for the always scant 
 wood-pile, since there were both game and 
 wood in abundance. She insisted that he 
 
A NEW HOME 53 
 
 make arrangements at once to move his 
 family to a farm on Knob Creek, within 
 hailing distance of her own home. Mr. 
 Lincoln promised to consider the matter, 
 and he did, for four years. Then he 
 moved. 
 
 While Mr. Lincoln was, beyond doubt, 
 shiftless and apparently satisfied to live 
 from hand to mouth, he was never accused 
 of deliberate neglect of his family. He 
 seemed anxious enough to try to please 
 them, but the roving spirit had him and he 
 could not resist the temptation to see what 
 folk were doing in "far-away places." 
 He was an expert trapper and hunter and 
 knew more about the woods and the hab- 
 its of animals than any of his neighbors, 
 but he thought his wife could kill enough 
 game to meet the immediate needs of her- 
 self and their little daughter, Sarah, 
 while he was away on his trail-blazing, 
 hunting expeditions. 
 
 Mrs. Lincoln used to say laughingly: 
 "Thomas believes the game thinks enough 
 
54 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 of me to come around to find out if I am 
 in need of meat." 
 
 For a long time after the birth of Abra- 
 ham, Mr. Lincoln stayed close at home 
 and applied himself during the summer 
 to the cultivation of small plats of ground 
 and during the winter to odd jobs of saw- 
 and-hatchet work for his neighbors. In 
 the winter of 1811-12, he had steady work 
 at the Hodgen Mill, and would frequently 
 carry Abraham a distance of over two 
 miles to spend the day with Mrs. Hodgen, 
 the miller's mother. But in the latter 
 part of the winter, the roving spirit again 
 asserted itself and Mr. Lincoln left home 
 to look at some land in Indiana bordering 
 the Ohio River. On his return, he ex- 
 pressed himself as well pleased and talked 
 of moving to that state. However, to 
 please his wife who was in poor health, he 
 gave up the idea for the time being and 
 seemed contented in the thought that he 
 was humoring his Nancy. 
 
 The Lincolns continued to live in the 
 
A NEW HOME 55 
 
 cabin where Abraham was born until the 
 spring of 1813, when they moved to the 
 farm near that of the Gollahers. Abra- 
 ham was now more than four years old, 
 but Mrs. Lincoln had not recovered from 
 the illness incident to his birth, and to 
 that of a later son who died when quite 
 young and who was buried in the woods 
 on the banks of the south fork of Nolynn 
 River, a short distance from the Lincoln 
 farm. 
 
 All were happier in their new home be- 
 cause they were so near their good 
 friends. Mrs. Lincoln improved in 
 health ; Mr. Lincoln applied himself more 
 closely to the farm, and the two children 
 were stronger and better than they had 
 been at Cave Spring. The cabin home 
 was more commodious, and the general 
 surroundings were more inviting. 
 
 A daily association immediately sprang 
 up between Abraham Lincoln and Austin 
 Gollaher — an association so remarkable 
 in its pleasing effect upon both boys that 
 
56 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 Thomas Gollalier suggested to Thomas 
 Lincoln that they yoke them together like 
 steers. This remark so impressed Abra- 
 ham that the next day he very seriously 
 asked his father when he and Mr. Golla- 
 her were going to "make that yoke." 
 Notwithstanding Abraham was three 
 years younger than Austin, he was quite 
 as large physically, while his mind was 
 that of a child very much older. 
 
 It was in the Knob Creek hills sur- 
 rounding the homes of the Gollahers and 
 the Lincolns that most of the incidents 
 and adventures here related occurred — 
 incidents that were kept fresh in the mem- 
 ory of Austin Gollaher by the unusual 
 sayings of the boy Lincoln, and later by 
 the towering greatness of the man. When 
 Mr. Lincoln became president, Mr. Golla- 
 her very naturally went to the store-house 
 of memory for anecdotes of his and Lin- 
 coln's boyhood in the wilderness, and he 
 found many and told them to his neighbors 
 during a period of many years. 
 
A NEW HOME 57 
 
 Down at Hodgen Mill the pioneers were 
 one day discussing various topics when 
 Isom Enlow incidentally remarked to 
 Thomas Lincoln that Abe had been named 
 after his son, Abraham Enlow. Mr. Lin- 
 coln replied that he was mistaken, that the 
 boy had been named after his Grand- 
 father Lincoln. There was a good-natured 
 argument over the naming of the boy, and 
 the question was finally referred to Mrs. 
 Lincoln for settlement. Very quickly and 
 emphatically she replied: "Yes, Abra- 
 ham was named after Mr. Enlow 's son; 
 I gave him that name myself, for I could 
 never repay Mr. Enlow 's kindness; but," 
 she added, "since Mr. Lincoln's father 
 was Abraham, it is all right to let my boy 
 be named after both. ' ' 
 
 "I'm named after two people," Abra- 
 ham said to Austin one day, "and I 
 reckon my name is ' Abraham Abraham 
 Lincoln,' so I'm mighty glad, Austin, that 
 you just call me 'Abe.' " 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE MIRACULOUS ESCAPE 
 
 Down on Knob Creek there was a big 
 flat rock thrust out from the side of the 
 cliff as though there wasn't space for it 
 within. Underneath it there was room 
 for a nice play-house, and on top of it am- 
 ple space to build a child-world. The top 
 was smooth and slightly slanting like the 
 roof of a flat-top house; above it were 
 projecting rocks, covered with running 
 vines. It was an ideal place for boys to 
 meet their imaginary friends and ene- 
 mies, to build castles in the air, to fight 
 battles with the Indians, or to kill bears 
 and lions, and then, getting away from 
 their bewildering and heroic imagina- 
 tions, to lie down and listen to the restful 
 trickling of the mountain stream. 
 
 58 
 
THE MIEACULOUS ESCAPE 59 
 
 On this rock, Abe and Austin fought 
 many victorious battles and dreamed the 
 long thoughts of youth as they looked out 
 over the wonderful world of their imagin- 
 ing. Abe called the rock "the Nice Stone," 
 and it could not have been better named. 
 Its surface was kept polished by the over- 
 flowing waters of Knob Creek, and Fa- 
 ther Time had made steps to it, so that the 
 top, four or five feet above the level of the 
 ground, could be reached without over- 
 hand climbing. 
 
 For two years, when the weather al- 
 lowed, the boys made the Nice Stone 
 their haven, but when they grew older 
 they were kept pretty busy helping make 
 ready against the winter. 
 
 "We were more than ' half -hands,' " 
 said Mr. Gollaher, "and much more than 
 worth our l board and keep.' We could 
 even fell good-sized trees, or at least we 
 thought them good-sized, and by begin- 
 ning early in the spring and by keeping 
 it up at odd times through the summer 
 
60 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 and fall, Abe and I would chop as likely a 
 pile of wood as anybody. We were also 
 handy with the hoe. So, you see," con- 
 tinued Mr. Gollaher, "our daddies found 
 us out and kept us humping most of the 
 time. 
 
 "But the Nice Stone was so alluring to 
 Abe and me that we occasionally played 
 off on our fathers and went there for a 
 ' skirmish ' when we were expected to be at 
 our task. However, we soon got caught 
 at that trick by father and Mr. Lincoln, 
 who led us by the ears through the woods 
 to the clearing where we were at work and 
 threatened to give us a good tanning if we 
 were ever again guilty of shirking our 
 duties. You see, it was very important in 
 those days for everybody to keep pegging 
 away. It was a big job to clear and clean 
 up land and cultivate crops because our 
 tools and implements were very poor, and 
 to lose time through idleness was consid- 
 ered mighty dishonorable." 
 
 It was in the spring — one of those first 
 
THE MIRACULOUS ESCAPE 61 
 
 bright warm days when every normal boy 
 longs for the green hills and the blossom- 
 ing valleys. Nature beckoned, and Abe 
 and Austin obeyed ; they went to the Nice 
 Stone. Abe was standing upon the rock, 
 looking down into the clean water of 
 Knob Creek. " There's a fish," he said, 
 "in the pool down there," and he pointed 
 his long finger at a floundering black bass 
 that had, in some way, wandered from the 
 main stream. It was a big one and the 
 boys, when they reached the pool, had 
 some trouble in landing it. 
 
 Suddenly there came a terrible crash, 
 and the boys were covered with small 
 pieces of stone and many clods of dirt, for 
 an immense rock had dropped from the 
 cliff above squarely down upon the spot 
 where a moment before Abe had stood. 
 Austin, badly frightened, was ready to 
 flee, but Abe stood quiet for a moment 
 and then with a little concern asked: 
 "What do you reckon caused that?" 
 
 "I don't know what caused it," an- 
 
62 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 swered Austin, still alarmed, "but I do 
 know it didn't miss you very much, and if 
 it had hit you it would have mashed your 
 head off." 
 
 "It missed me a heap," Abe quietly 
 said. "It missed me as far as it is from 
 here to the Nice Stone." 
 
 "Well, it missed you just about a min- 
 ute," retorted Austin, "and if you go 
 there to play any more, you'll have to go 
 by yourself, because there are two more 
 rocks hanging up there and one of them 
 might fall any time." 
 
 "Another rock might not fall there 
 again as long as we live, Austin, but we 
 won't play around there any more, be- 
 cause if one of them did fall and kill you, 
 I'd feel like I was the cause of it." 
 
 "When we told our mothers of the 
 near-accident, we were warned not to visit 
 the rock again, and it was a long time 
 before we returned there," said Mr. 
 Gollaher. "But Abe didn't seem to think 
 anything at all about his miraculous 
 
THE MIRACULOUS ESCAPE 63 
 
 escape, and when I mentioned it he talked 
 about what a big fish we caught out of the 
 pool. We missed the Mce Stone, and 
 were often tempted to resume our play 
 there, but I was afraid, and since Abe's 
 mother had told him he must not, he could 
 not have been persuaded to disobey her. 
 
 "Why, I'll tell you," said the old man, 
 full of sincerity, "God watched over Abe 
 Lincoln; He didn't want him killed, be- 
 cause there were no others like him; and 
 He wanted to use Abe for a big purpose ; 
 and He didn't want to go to the trouble to 
 make another like him," continued the ex- 
 cited and emphatic Mr. Gollaher. "Had 
 I been upon the Nice Stone alone, that big 
 boulder would have hit me square upon 
 the head and mashed every bone in my 
 body. Abe's presence saved me. And 
 don't you know, I got it into my child- 
 head that God was watching over me, too, 
 so that I could keep Abe company and 
 amuse him with some of my antics. When 
 I was with Abe I had a sort of safe and se- 
 
64 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 cure feeling — a feeling that nothing of 
 any serious consequence could happen to 
 either of us. There was something that 
 caused me to look upon that long-leg boy 
 in wonder. It was no surprise to me when 
 I heard Abe had been elected president. 
 I reckon I saved Abe's life two or three 
 times, but if I hadn't been there to do it, 
 God would have saved him in some other 
 way. I wasn't a bit scared the time they 
 raised such a fuss about Abe being lost, 
 and I told my mother that he'd turn up all 
 right. Mother asked me why I thought 
 so, and I told her that God was looking af- 
 ter Abe. Then mother smiled and said to 
 me: 'Well, we are going out with torches 
 to look for him anyhow, and we are all 
 praying that God will guide us to him. ' 
 
 "Once I asked Abe if he believed the 
 devil stayed down deep under the ground, 
 and to my surprise he said; 'No sir-ee, I 
 don't; I believe he's in the woods and ev- 
 erywhere; when he's around here I think 
 he spends most of his time in the heart of 
 
One of the old trails over which Abe and Austin carried their 
 corn to Hodgen's Mill 
 
THE MIRACULOUS ESCAPE 65 
 
 old Mr. Evans. ' Abe was always answer- 
 ing me in that curious way, curious for a 
 boy at least. 
 
 "I never liked to go to the Hodgen Mill 
 alone, ' ' said the old man, i 6 although I car- 
 ried a rifle and could shoot straight as 
 any one. I had an uneasy feeling when I 
 was out on that old lonesome road by my- 
 self. But Abe, when he was less than six 
 years old, went alone, carried his corn and 
 didn't seem to mind it. It was a distance, 
 too, of about four miles from here, and the 
 country was pretty rough and gloomy. I 
 felt skittish without Abe, and father made 
 fun of me when I told him it was too dan- 
 gerous for a boy to make the trip alone, 
 that some day I might meet a big wild ani- 
 mal and that if my aim wasn't good, it 
 would kill me and then nobody would ever 
 know what became of me. Father just 
 laughed and said I was big enough to kill 
 a bear with my naked hands, adding that 
 he knew what I was up to, that I just 
 wanted 'Abe Lincoln to go with me.' 
 
66 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 " Abe wouldn't learn to shoot a gun, and 
 didn't carry one," Mr. Gollaher said, bit- 
 ing off another chew of his " store to- 
 bacco." "But his father made him carry 
 a knife and a small ax. (My grandfather, 
 who was a blacksmith, made the ax for 
 him.) Well, it was finally arranged so 
 that Abe and I could make most of the 
 trips to the mill together, but occasionally 
 something would happen, either with 
 Abe's family or mine, that would make it 
 necessary for us to go alone; and don't 
 you know I actually refused to go without 
 Abe; I was mortally afraid, and two or 
 three times father found it necessary to 
 start me with a hickory. But if Abe was 
 ever afraid to go without me, he never 
 mentioned it. 
 
 "I never often saw Abe excited," he 
 continued, "but on one occasion when a 
 small wildcat attacked his dog, ' Honey,' 
 and Abe thought he was going to be killed, 
 he got so nervous he danced a jig and 
 yelled to me to shoot the cat, but before I 
 
THE MIRACULOUS ESCAPE 67 
 
 could shoot, Honey, minus a little hair, 
 went one way and the cat another. Then 
 Abe, taking a big long breath, said: 'I 
 was scared, Austin, because it looked like 
 that wildcat was going to skin Honey 
 alive.' " 
 
 Mr. Gollaher gazed across the little 
 field in front of his home to the hills, and 
 half to himself he asked : 
 
 "Why was that pool made in the edge 
 of Knob Creek ? Why did the fish get into 
 the pool, and why did it flounder two min- 
 utes before that stone fell?" And then 
 he answered his own questions, saying: 
 "Just God's mysterious way of doing 
 things." 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 NEW FRIENDS 
 
 The narrow road, which, like a huge 
 rusty snake, wound its way through the 
 Knob Creek hills to Hodgen's Mill, was 
 bordered by hundreds of great forest 
 trees, " three-footers" the natives called 
 them. It was the custom to cut away the 
 bark for a space possibly a foot square, 
 smooth it down carefully and then upon 
 the bright surface inscribe notes, bits of 
 doggerel or directions to the passing 
 stranger. This method of woodland cor- 
 respondence became so popular that many 
 romantic settlers carried with them a wil- 
 low twig brush and a small container 
 filled with pokeberry ink. It was like the 
 gay days in the Forest of Arden when Or- 
 lando wrote his love-notes to Rosalind, 
 
 68 
 
NEW FRIENDS 69 
 
 Thomas Gollalier had just trimmed a 
 smooth spot upon the trunk of a big tree 
 and was preparing to " indite" a letter — 
 a simple, three or four word letter, in 
 which he would find amusement, but oth- 
 ers would perhaps see nothing except a 
 senseless scrawling when a short dis- 
 tance ahead of him he saw young Lincoln 
 trudging along with a good-sized dog un- 
 der one arm and a small sack of meal upon 
 the opposite shoulder. It was a heavy 
 load, very much too heavy for the lad, big 
 as he was, and he carelessly threw the sack 
 of meal down under a clump of bushes, 
 then very gently placed the dog on the 
 ground beside it. The day was hot, and 
 under his burden Abe was steaming and 
 perspiring. He fanned himself with a 
 bunch of leaves and dropped down beside 
 the dog. The curious Mr. Gollaher 
 slipped noiselessly from behind one big 
 tree to another, Indian-fashion, until he 
 was within a few feet of Abe. Then he 
 watched and listened. 
 
70 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 Abe was holding the dog close to his 
 breast, calling it " Honey" and talking to 
 it most sympathetically. Again he placed 
 it on the ground by the bag of meal, and 
 went to a small spring across the road and 
 brought back a cap full of water which he 
 gave the dog to drink. Then he took a 
 hunting knife from his belt and quickly 
 whittled out two rude splints. Next he 
 peeled the bark from some pawpaw 
 bushes, placed a splint on each side of the 
 dog's right foreleg and wrapped it with 
 the soft pliable bark. The wounded dog 
 licked Abe's hands and face, and whined 
 its thanks into his ear. The new friends 
 loved each other — the boy because it was 
 natural for him, out of his sympathetic 
 heart, to love that which suffered, and the 
 dog out of gratitude for the great kind- 
 ness shown him. 
 
 "By holy, he's fixed that dog's broken 
 leg!" exclaimed the astonished Gollaher 
 in a voice that Abe overheard. Realizing 
 that he had disclosed his presence he 
 
NEW FRIENDS 71 
 
 stepped out from his listening-post and 
 asked if lie could be of any assistance to 
 " Doctor Abraham." 
 
 Without displaying the slightest sur- 
 prise over the sudden interruption, the 
 boy quietly asked Mr. Gollaher for a piece 
 of rawhide, and the two finished the job 
 by wrapping tightly the bark and the 
 splints. 
 
 "Give me another piece of rawhide, 
 please, Mr. Gollaher, to tie around the 
 dog's neck, so I can fasten him to a stob." 
 
 "All right, Abe ; here it is, but don't you 
 know the sun is about down and you are 
 at least a mile from home? Your 
 pappy '11 tan your hide when you get 
 there. Now, you'd better move along; 
 I'm going the other way, just as soon as I 
 write my letter." And he stepped over 
 to the tree which he had prepared for his 
 inscription. 
 
 "I'll tell you what I'll write," said Mr. 
 Gollaher with a humorous twinkle in his 
 eye. "I'll just say 'Abe-ee got a dog.' " 
 
72 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 "Now, please, Mr. Gollalier, don't tell 
 father about the dog," begged Abe, "for 
 he might try to kill it to put it out of its 
 misery ; and I want it to get well, so Aus- 
 tin and I can play with it." 
 
 Mr. Gollaher promised, and Abe turned 
 homeward, his sack of meal over his 
 shoulder, the dog hopping on three legs at 
 his side. Then upon the tree, the woods- 
 man wrote, in ragged letters : 
 
 "ABE L. GOT A DORG." 
 
 Abe trudged along stopping now and 
 then to pat the dog on the head, and to as- 
 sure it that the broken leg would soon be 
 well. When in hailing distance of his 
 home he paused to reconnoiter and to 
 plan. He must do something with the 
 dog ; he must hide it temporarily, because 
 there was grave danger that his father 
 would kill it. Dropping his bag of meal, 
 he hurriedly tied the crippled dog beneath 
 a sheltering bush and told it to lie quiet 
 until he got back. On reaching home he 
 
NEW FRIENDS 73 
 
 found his mother worried, as usual, be- 
 cause of his late arrival, but his explana- 
 tion satisfied her and she forgave him. 
 Indeed, his excuses were usually well- 
 founded. The old mill was slow, and each 
 customer had to await his turn. The mil- 
 ler, John Hodgen, loved Abe devotedly, 
 but he would not violate his rule of " first 
 come first served," and Abe's turn usu- 
 ally came late. 
 
 He never walked briskly ; his was a long 
 stride but slow careful step, and he seldom 
 hurried, except upon those occasions 
 when his father followed with a switch. 
 Then, too, he saw many things of interest 
 along the wooded paths. The squirrel, the 
 rabbit, the opossum, and, indeed, every 
 wild creature of the woods challenged 
 him on his journeys to and from the mill. 
 He had been known to lose an hour's time 
 chasing a snake through the weeds to res- 
 cue a frog from the reptile's greedy 
 mouth ; and the young birds along the way 
 that happened to fall from their nests 
 
74 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 found no more eager Samaritan than 
 young Abe. He never failed to climb the 
 tree and deliver the baby bird safely to its 
 mother. There were so many attractions 
 in the woods, so many things needing 
 Abe's immediate attention, that it wasn't 
 surprising he sometimes forgot the corn- 
 meal. 
 
 The miller frequently reprimanded Abe 
 for his tardiness, and often when it was 
 too late for the boy to go home alone 
 would saddle "Old Fanny," his mare, and 
 deliver him and his bag of meal to his 
 home on Knob Creek. And Mr. Hodgen, 
 being fond of Abe, usually stretched the 
 truth a bit and informed Thomas Lincoln 
 that there were many early customers and 
 that the boy's turn did not come until late 
 for that reason. 
 
 "Down there by the tall sycamore tree, I 
 have a dog tied to a sapling, and its leg is 
 broken," Abe whispered to his mother, 
 Thomas having fallen asleep in the chim- 
 ney corner. "Please go wdth me to get 
 
NEW FBIENDS 75 
 
 him, and help me put him in the pen where 
 the pigs used to stay ; there 's a roof over 
 it and he won't get wet when it rains." 
 
 In answer to his mother's inquiries he 
 then told the story of how he found the 
 crippled dog at the foot of a precipice, 
 and how he had " fixed" its broken leg. 
 "Now," he added, "father won't like the 
 dog, but you will like him, and so will 
 Sarah, and I want you to beg father not 
 to kill him or give him away." 
 
 Mrs. Lincoln, always indulgent of Abra- 
 ham, consented, and the two went out 
 into the night to find the dog and bring 
 him in to his new home — the pig pen. Abe 
 carried the wounded animal in his arms, 
 patting him and calling him "Honey," as 
 they made their way back to the house. 
 
 "You love the dog so much," said his 
 mother, when Abraham asked her what to 
 name him, "I reckon you'd better call 
 him ' Honey'; that was what you called 
 him last night when you untied him from 
 the sapling." 
 
76 THE BOYHOOD OP LINCOLN 
 
 So the dog was christened " Honey." 
 
 "He'll do lots of good things for me," 
 said Abe to his mother. "You just watch 
 and see." 
 
 Mrs. Lincoln smiled, little thinking 
 that Honey was to play an important part 
 in the lives of the Lincolns. 
 
 When at last, after much careful nurs- 
 ing, the crude bandage was removed, Abra- 
 ham was terribly distressed to find the 
 leg miserably twisted, and he was much 
 afraid the dog would never be able to run 
 fast. However, Honey developed speed 
 that was surprising, and as the leg did not 
 pain him or interfere with his activities 
 Abe was happy, for physical appearance 
 did not count much with him then as ever. 
 
 "Honey was not good to look upon," 
 said Mr. Gollaher; "his twisted leg re- 
 minded me of a curve in the road ; but he 
 was the smartest dog in the neighborhood, 
 and made a fitting companion for Abe 
 since both were good and smart and 
 ugly." 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 THE HODGENS 
 
 Every boy has his hero. John Hodgen, 
 the miller, was young Abe's; and Mrs. 
 Hodgen, the good man's mother, was his 
 heroine. The miller was big, and gentle, 
 kind and courageous ; his mother, in Abra- 
 ham 's opinion, was beautiful and won- 
 derfully wise. She w r as sixty years of age 
 — a white-haired widow — her husband 
 having died in 1810, the year following 
 that of Abe's birth — and was the mother 
 of several children, all of whom had 
 grown to years of discretion before the 
 child Lincoln became such a favorite in 
 the Hodgen home. It was told that on one 
 occasion Abe looked at her snow-white 
 hair for several minutes, and said: "I 
 reckon God made your hair white so it 
 
 77 
 
78 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 would be like an angel's robe." Where 
 he got the simile no one ever knew. 
 
 Abraham's first knowledge that there 
 is such a country as England, came from 
 Mrs. Hodgen, who told him that her hus- 
 band, Robert Hodgen, was born there in 
 1742. She delighted the child with many 
 interesting accounts of that far-away em- 
 pire, and thrilled him with stories of her 
 husband's perilous voyage across the At- 
 lantic. He also learned from Mrs. Hod- 
 gen much about Virginia, as she was born 
 there in 1757, coming through the great 
 dark wilderness to Kentucky with her fa- 
 ther, John LaRue, when she was quite 
 young. 
 
 At times Abraham apparently enjoyed 
 being with boys, but more often he looked 
 on their rough play with sad disgust. It 
 frequently happened that boys mistook 
 cruelty for heroism, and Abe despised 
 cruelty wherever he found it. Bravado 
 did not thrill him, neither did the bullv 
 
 7 v 
 
 frighten him. 
 
THE HODGENS 79 
 
 "One day a lad by the name of Evans 
 pulled off the head of a young bird," said 
 Mr. Gollaher, "and threw it at the feet of 
 Abe. He did it because he knew it would 
 displease Abe, and because he thought it 
 was smart for a boy to be cruel. I never 
 saw such a look as that which came into 
 Abe's face; it changed from the mildness 
 of summer to the harshness of winter, and 
 he looked at the offending boy until the 
 youngster from sheer terror hid his face 
 in his hands. To my surprise, the Evans 
 boy apologized for his depredation, but 
 Abe turned his back upon him and said : 
 * Let's go, Austin; I don't want even to 
 be close to him.' " 
 
 To the boy Lincoln, John Hodgen, the 
 miller, was the biggest man in the world, 
 and when the boys teased him and told 
 him he was trying to be like "Mr. John," 
 he said: "Well, if all of you would try 
 to be like Mr. John there wouldn't be 
 any need for your parents to watch you to 
 try to keep you from doing wrong." 
 
80 THE BOYHOOD OP LINCOLN 
 
 i l One bright morning in mid-summer, ' ' 
 said Mr. Gollaher, "Abe, Mr. Hodgen and 
 I were standing on the platform in front 
 of the mill when old Zack Evans rode up 
 with a sack of corn. His horse was blind, 
 and when he shied away from the plat- 
 form Evans gave him a terrific kick in 
 the stomach. The poor beast groaned. 
 Abe looked at Mr. Hodgen and Mr. Hod- 
 gen looked at Abe. 
 
 " 'Zack, why did you kick that horse?' 
 asked Mr. Hodgen angrily; 'the blind old 
 animal was good enough to bring you and 
 your corn to mill, and doesn't deserve 
 such treatment. ' 
 
 "For answer Evans kicked the horse 
 again. 
 
 "Quicker than a flash, John Hodgen 
 grabbed the man by the collar and pinned 
 him against the platform ; then he raised 
 him up and looked into his face and said ; 
 'Take your corn away from here, and 
 don't you come around me any more; if 
 you ever kick that old horse again in my 
 
. ':« 
 
THE HODGENS 81 
 
 presence I '11 give you a thrashing you will 
 remember as long as you live. ' 
 
 "At first I thought the frightened man 
 was going to run away, but he soon re- 
 gained his senses, and was loud in his 
 apologies. He begged Mr. Hodgen to 
 grind the corn, which, of course, he did. 
 
 "It was unusual for Abe to show elation 
 over anything and especially over quar- 
 rels or fights, but he seemed to get pleas- 
 ure out of the shaking Mr. Hodgen gave 
 Zack Evans. At the conclusion of the 
 apology Abe said rather spiritedly: 
 'Your boy pulled off the head of a live 
 bird and threw it at my feet the other day 
 and he asked me to forgive him just like 
 you did Mr. Hodgen. Your boy oughn't 
 to do any more birds that way and you 
 oughtn't to kick your horse any more.' " 
 
 The mill was on a cliff, overlooking 
 Nolynn River, while the home of the Hod- 
 gens rested in a pretty grove a quarter of 
 a mile to the west on the river bank. It 
 was perhaps the most commodious house 
 
82 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 in that region and was looked upon ad- 
 miringly by every pioneer who saw it. It 
 was here that Abraham Lincoln gained 
 his thirst for knowledge and learned 
 many of the simpler lessons of life. So 
 ardent was the love of John Hodgen and 
 his mother for the boy that they several 
 times begged Mrs. Lincoln to give him to 
 them, but she always said no to their 
 pleadings. For days at a time during the 
 winter Abraham would visit them, but af- 
 ter a while he would get homesick for his 
 mother and sister and Austin, and then 
 John Hodgen and his mother would bun- 
 dle him up and send him trudging back 
 across the hills to Knob Creek. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 THIRST FOR LEARNING 
 
 Abraham called John Hodgen "Mr. 
 John," and Mrs. Hodgen " Missus 
 Sarah," but he always called Isaac Hod- 
 gen "Mr. Hodgen," because he could not 
 pronounce Isaac clearly. Then, too, Mr. 
 John and Missus Sarah were his closest 
 friends and he doubtless felt it was a lit- 
 tle more endearing to use their given 
 names. 
 
 From the lips of John Hodgen and his 
 mother, the boy learned something of the 
 wonders of the world, of far-off lands 
 and cities rich and splendid. They told 
 him the story of Columbus and stirred his 
 latent love of country with the proud 
 name of Washington. Those stories Abe 
 
 83 
 
84 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 greedily devoured, but lie didn't like tales 
 of Indian massacres, and when John 
 Hodgen teasingly began one of them the 
 boy begged for more of George Washing- 
 ton or Robinson Crusoe, whose patience 
 in teaching "Friday" impressed him 
 greatly. 
 
 "Abe said to me one day," related Mr. 
 Gollaher, laughingly, "that the reason he 
 liked Mr. Crusoe was because he believed 
 the adventurer was just like Mr. John, 
 that had Mr. John been out there on that 
 island, he would have done everything as 
 Mr. Crusoe did it." 
 
 From his mother and from Mrs. Hod- 
 gen Abraham learned his A B C's. In- 
 deed, these two women created in him the 
 first thirst for knowledge — that thirst 
 ■which grew as the boy grew, until it be- 
 came his first concern, his one great pas- 
 sion. With pencils of soapstone, upon 
 smooth boards scorched black over the 
 backlog fire, Mrs. Hodgen spelled and 
 figured and explained, never losing pa- 
 
THIRST FOR LEARNING 85 
 
 tience in her effort to teach the boy — to 
 give him the fundamental three R 's. Abe 
 was proud of his progress and worked 
 faithfully; indeed, he became so studious 
 that his father threatened to forbid fur- 
 ther " education," but Mrs. Hodgen 
 shamed him out of this and assured him 
 that one day he would be exceedingly 
 proud of his son, Abraham. However, she 
 did not succeed in convincing Mr. Lincoln 
 that education was necessary; in fact, he 
 told her it was a waste of time, and "a 
 piece of foolishness" to interest a boy as 
 big and strong as Abraham in " book- 
 learning," that such things should be re- 
 served for girls, and for boys who were 
 small and sickly. 
 
 Each week Mrs. Hodgen would write on 
 the burnt board one of the Ten Command- 
 ments, and when Abraham came to the 
 mill with corn she would read and reread 
 it to him until it was pretty well im- 
 pressed upon his fresh young mind. Then 
 on his next visit to the mill she would read 
 
86 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 him a new Commandment and have him 
 repeat the one of the previous week. 
 
 Mrs. Hodgen used kindergarten meth- 
 ods of her own devising long before kin- 
 dergartens were dreamed of. Her illus- 
 trations were amusing and impressive. 
 For example: She would drive three 
 sticks or stobs into the ground ; to one she 
 would tie a cat, to another a hen, and to 
 the third Abraham's dog, and then in the 
 ground beside each she would write its 
 name : c-a-t, h-e-n, d-o-g. Of course the boy 
 was tremendously interested; he would 
 walk from one stob to another, stopping 
 and thinking; then back again to the be- 
 ginning. Finally he cried out that he 
 could "do them," and turning his back he 
 went down on his hands and knees and 
 wrote "cat," "hen" and "dog" on that 
 smoothed spot in the back yard of the 
 Hodgen home where he and Austin played 
 marbles. 
 
 On his way home that afternoon Abe 
 printed "cat," "hen" and "dog" on ev- 
 
THIRST FOR LEARNING 87 
 
 ery inviting spot that he passed ; the fair 
 face of nature was splotched and blotted, 
 and Abraham was late to supper. The 
 truthful explanation he gave his father 
 was entirely unsatisfactory, and a whip- 
 ping followed. Thomas Lincoln was dis- 
 pleased and again threatened to forbid 
 any more of that foolishness which Mrs. 
 Hodgen was putting into the boy's head. 
 But Mrs. Lincoln interceded; and when 
 she believed it necessary to be positive 
 with her husband she could be, so Mr. Gol- 
 laher asserted, finally and completely 
 positive. Thomas Lincoln seriously be- 
 lieved that Abraham's thirst for book 
 learning would be his ultimate ruin and 
 naturally did not feel very kindly toward 
 Mrs. Hodgen. 
 
 Abraham told Austin about the inci- 
 dent, and added that he was very sorry his 
 father didn't seem to want a boy to learn 
 anything out of books, and that "if father 
 had learned a little about reading and 
 writing when he was a child he might not 
 
88 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 have wanted to kill as many foxes and 
 coons and other things in the woods." 
 
 Mr. Lincoln had practically no educa- 
 tion. When he made an occasional sale of 
 pelts to a huckster he had to get his wife 
 to "figure up the amount due him" and 
 then count the money. But he was unal- 
 terably opposed to education, saying that 
 people who could read were lazy, and neg- 
 lectful of their duties in the fields and 
 woods. 
 
 But Abraham did not let his father's 
 reprimand or his opposition to book 
 learning keep him from Missus Sarah's 
 open-air school or the room up-stairs that 
 she had set apart exclusively for her pu- 
 pil's use. 
 
 In his spelling lessons the word which 
 gave to him the most trouble was " tur- 
 key." He would sometimes spell it 
 "tirkee," sometimes "terkee," or, getting 
 closer to it, "turkie." Finally Missus 
 Sarah succeeded in getting him straight- 
 ened out on the letter "u" by telling him 
 
THIRST FOR LEARNING 89 
 
 to remember: "When I tell YOU to go 
 to the spring for water YOU must go. 
 Now," she said, "TJ-U-U, YOU must re- 
 member." He then learned to spell 
 "key" and so finished his education as 
 far as "turkey" was concerned. When 
 he told Austin that he knew how to spell 
 "turkey" the latter replied: "Well. I'd 
 lots rather know how to shoot one; the 
 spelling won't do you any good, but if 
 you'd learn to shoot straight you'd kill 
 one every now and then. What good '11 it 
 do you to spell 'em if you can't get 'em to 
 eat?" he asked very seriously. 
 
 Until the end of his long life Mr. Golla- 
 her repeated Lincoln's answer to that 
 question at every opportunity, sometimes 
 laughingly and sometimes soberly, but al- 
 ways with earnestness. 
 
 "It's this way, Austin," replied Abe, 
 "eating is good and we have to eat to live, 
 but if you are going to keep it on your 
 mind you'd just as well have been born a 
 pig, then you could have rooted around 
 
90 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 all day long for something to chew up and 
 swallow. We ought to put something in 
 our heads as well as in our bellies. Every- 
 thing depends on our heads — on the 
 things we get out of books. The more we 
 put into our heads, the easier we will get 
 things to put into our bellies. Of course, 
 we've got to kill things to eat, but if I had 
 to kill anything I could kill it with a rock ; 
 I don't want to learn how to shoot ; father 
 can do the shooting for me. He doesn't 
 mind killing things and I do. Yes, sir-ee ; 
 I'd rather know how to spell turkey than 
 be able to shoot its head off with a gun." 
 
 " Although Abe pleaded with me, I 
 could not be persuaded to take an interest 
 in Mrs. Hodgen's free school," said Mr. 
 Gollaher, "and it always pleased me when 
 I heard Mr. Lincoln making fun of edu- 
 cation. I preferred to become a good 
 hunter and trapper — a woodsman with a 
 mighty swinging ax — and I devoted my 
 time to training myself along those lines." 
 
 When he became a very old man he said 
 
THIRST FOR LEARNING 91 
 
 it had been one of the deepest regrets of 
 his life that he had not gone with Abe to 
 Missus Sarah's school, but he added, with 
 a smile, "I was a better wood-chopper, a 
 better hunter and a better trapper than 
 Abe, even if he was a better president. ' ' 
 Arithmetic was too prosy for Abraham. 
 He thought it a waste of time to try to get 
 sense out of figures, and Mrs. Hodgen 
 had no end of trouble in persuading him 
 that it was worth while to know that two 
 times two are four. He contended that he 
 wanted to learn how to read so that he 
 could find out about Columbus and Wash- 
 ington, and what had gone on in the 
 world ; he could not see that figures would 
 help him to do that. He told Austin that 
 he did not expect to have much to do with 
 things that would require " adding to and 
 taking from." But Mrs. Hodgen told 
 him that some day he would own a cow 
 that he might want to sell. "Then," she 
 said, "you couldn't even count the money, 
 and the man to whom you sold the cow 
 
92 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 might cheat you." This seemed to im- 
 press him and he applied himself a little 
 more interestedly in an effort to unravel 
 some of the simple mysteries of figures. 
 
 "Abe very quickly learned how to pro- 
 nounce a great many small words," said 
 Mr. Gollaher, "but figures seemed to 
 worry him a lot. After he was able to say 
 arithmetic correctly, he took more inter- 
 est in addition and subtraction. He cer- 
 tainly made a mighty slow start in 'sums' 
 and a mighty fast start in everything else 
 in the way of learning. I reckon his for- 
 wardness in reading and writing made 
 him seem more backward in arithmetic 
 than he really was. Before he left Ken- 
 tucky," continued Mr. Gollaher, "he 
 claimed he could count up to one hundred 
 and he said he didn't believe he'd try to 
 learn anything more about figures. Mis- 
 sus Sarah insisted that he count to two 
 hundred by saying 'one hundred one, one 
 hundred two, one hundred three' and so 
 on, but he told her that he could count one 
 
THIRST FOR LEARNING 93 
 
 hundred dollars, and that he didn't expect 
 ever to have that much money. 
 
 " 'But, Austin,' he said very earnestly, 
 'I will learn to read and then I am going 
 to get that book the preacher and Mr. 
 John told us about — Robinson Crusoe. 
 Then, too,' he said with that lovely ex- 
 pression around his eyes, 'I hope some 
 day to read all the stories about Christo- 
 pher Columbus and George Washington, 
 and about England, where Missus Sarah's 
 husband was born. Did you know, Aus- 
 tin,' Abe asked, 'that there are a lot of 
 books about Virginia, and my father and 
 all of his people came from there, and so 
 did my mother, and Missus Sarah and all 
 of her folks. So, I want to hurry up and 
 learn to read and get some books about 
 Virginia. That's the reason I can't take 
 much time to study figures ; I must learn 
 to read. ' 
 
 "Abe attended a school over there 
 where the town of Athertonville is now 
 located," said Mr. Gollaher. "It was con- 
 
94 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 ducted by a Monk whose name, I believe, 
 was Zack Riley.* Abe always said he 
 went for one term (a term in those days 
 was two months) , but to my certain knowl- 
 edge he was not there more than ten days. 
 First one thing and then another, his fa- 
 ther being one of them, would keep him 
 away. Lots of times Knob Creek was so 
 high he couldn't get across it, and fre- 
 quently his mother's illness would keep 
 him at home. Abe could not be persuaded 
 to leave his mother if her illness confined 
 her to bed. I have known him to sit in the 
 house day after day when his mother was 
 sick because he was afraid she might want 
 a drink of water or something, and Abe 
 thought nobody else could wait on her in 
 the right way. He loved his mother more 
 than anything else in the world, and she 
 loved Abe, too; she loved him so much 
 that my mother used to say: 'Well, 
 Nancy thinks she's going to that child 
 when she dies. ' 
 
 •According to Joseph H. Barrett's history of Lin 
 coin it was Zachariah Riney. 
 
THIRST FOR LEARNING 9S 
 
 "Abe attended another school, over 
 there in the woods, that was taught by a 
 journeyman teacher,* but the results 
 were about the same. He always said he 
 didn't get up much interest because he 
 couldn't be there every day, and when he 
 missed it made the teacher mad. His 
 most interested and most successful 
 teacher in this section was Mrs. Sarah 
 Hodgen, and when she and Abe finally 
 got the men of the neighborhood to build 
 a schoolhouse over near Hodgen 's Mill he 
 was the happiest boy in the world. ' ' 
 
 *The latter school referred to, according to the 
 same authority, was taught by a man named Caleb 
 Hazel. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE PARSON AND THE COONSKIN CAP 
 
 Under a big maple tree, which stood on 
 a smooth, grassy plat of ground, at the 
 foot of a knob, a platform and pulpit had 
 been built of poplar logs, split in two with 
 a whip-saw. The big maple dipped to- 
 ward the knob until its branches laced 
 with the limbs of the trees growing on 
 the hillside. In front of it was a grove of 
 many smaller trees, whose lower limbs 
 had been trimmed by the pioneers so there 
 would be no need for a sinner to duck 
 when he started to the altar. 
 
 Directly facing the pulpit was a long 
 bench — the mourners' bench — built upon 
 stump-like legs, while scattered promiscu- 
 ously through the grove were logs and 
 smoothed-off stumps, — pews of the mem- 
 
 96 
 
THE COONSKIN CAP 97 
 
 bers of the Knob Creek congregation. 
 This ideal spot for a camp-meeting was 
 known for miles around as the "Church 
 of Maple Trees." 
 
 There was always much excitement 
 among the pioneers during these relig- 
 ious revivals, which lasted a week; one 
 meeting in the late spring and one in the 
 early fall. Other interests were subordi- 
 nated by the promoters of the camp-meet- 
 ing, and all became, for the time being, la- 
 borers in the Vineyard of the Lord. 
 
 For at least a week beforehand, the par- 
 son (a journeyman preacher) would visit 
 among the pioneers to work up interest 
 and to let the remoter people know the 
 date of the meeting. The preacher was 
 paid but little those days, but he was be- 
 loved and respected; welcomed in every 
 home, given the best there was to eat, and 
 furnished a horse to ride. Indeed, he was 
 a hero, and the people followed him, be- 
 lieving implicitly in him and in his 
 teachings. 
 
98 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 When the camp-meeting was in prog- 
 ress, the settlers came prepared to stay 
 the entire week, and any who could not 
 find shelter in the homes of the neighbors 
 remained in the woods and slept beneath 
 the wide-spreading trees or the over- 
 hanging cliffs. 
 
 Mrs. Lincoln was a devoutly religious 
 woman and never tired trying to promote 
 the religious welfare of the community. 
 Closely associated with her in this work 
 were Mrs. Llodgen, Mrs. Gollaher and 
 Mrs. Walters. Thomas Lincoln was not so 
 enthusiastic as his wife, but he attended 
 the meetings and often became deeply in- 
 terested, even excited, over the matter of 
 his soul's salvation. At such times he 
 would join in the singing and shouting, 
 and otherwise display a deeply emotional 
 spirit ; but he would soon forget, and was 
 most of the time looked on as a 
 ' i backslider. ' ' 
 
 Not that he was irreligious or immoral. 
 He was simply indifferent. Restlessness 
 
THE COONSKIN CAP 99 
 
 was his pet weakness. He had the wan- 
 dering foot, and looking for other locations 
 for a home was his hobby. He found 
 many, too, in different parts of Kentucky 
 and Tennessee and Indiana, and was for- 
 ever threatening to move. Home-hunting 
 was little short of a mania with him, so 
 much so that at times he entirely forgot 
 his duty to his family in his desire to ex- 
 plore new regions. Because of his roving 
 propensities he was not counted as one of 
 the community's substantial citizens, and 
 the sincerity of his camp-meeting conver- 
 sions was doubted by his neighbors. 
 
 But his wife, the mother of Abraham, 
 kept the light burning in the little cabin 
 home. The worn old Bible, the only book 
 in the Lincoln library, was her refuge and 
 her strength. She taught Abraham and 
 his sister to pray and they all made brave 
 efforts to sing. Abraham, during his mo- 
 ments of sadness, for even as a lad he was 
 touched with melancholy, would hum the 
 pioneers' favorite hymn, The Old Ark's 
 
100 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 A-rnoving, and every night before he 
 closed his eyes he breathed a simple 
 prayer. 
 
 A camp-meeting was now at its height 
 in the Church of Maple Trees. It was 
 early fall and the leaves were yet clinging 
 to their boughs though some of them in 
 the topmost branches were turning yel- 
 low, giving to the forest church a vaulted 
 arch of green and gold. 
 
 Thomas Lincoln became deeply inter- 
 ested in this particular meeting and on 
 the second day he sought the mourners' 
 bench and on the third day prayed aloud 
 when called on by the Reverend Mr. Gen- 
 try. Mrs. Lincoln was jubilant over the 
 effect Brother Gentry's sermons were 
 having on her husband, and expressed the 
 belief to Mrs. Gollaher that he had at last 
 found permanent favor with the Lord. 
 
 Abe and Austin, as the " official her- 
 alds," were sent out each morning with 
 invitations to the families that had not at- 
 tended the meetings, to come and enjoy 
 
THE COONSKIN CAP 101 
 
 the Godly messages of the evangelist. 
 The boys rode " double" on an old mule 
 and traveled in haste since they were re- 
 quired to be on the grounds in time for 
 dinner and the afternoon services. 
 
 "The arrangement to send us out in the 
 morning/' said Mr. Gollaher, "was made, 
 of course, because our parents knew we 
 would get back for dinner, and so, very 
 naturally, get back in time for the after- 
 noon preaching. Abe was always a big 
 eater, but I was even a bigger one, and af- 
 ter we had jolted around over these hills 
 for four or five hours, we were good and 
 ready to have our physical needs attended 
 to." 
 
 "Austin," said Abe, as he tenderly pat- 
 ted his dog, "father has been on the 
 'mourners' bench' and has prayed out 
 loud once or twice, but I don't know so 
 much about his religion." 
 
 "Why, Abe, what's he done to make 
 you say that?" asked Austin. 
 
 "Kicked Honey last night, and I don't 
 
102 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 believe anybody with even a little religion 
 will kick a dog when it rubs its nose 
 against him in a friendly way. That was 
 all Honey did; just put his nose up 
 against father's knee, and father kicked 
 him on his twisted leg. I haven't been on 
 the mourners' bench," continued Abe, 
 "but I wouldn't kick anybody's dog. 
 What do you think about it, Austin?" 
 
 "Well, I don't know; maybe your fa- 
 ther thinks it's no harm to kick a dog; 
 maybe he thinks God doesn't like dogs." 
 
 "No, surely he wouldn't think that," 
 said Abe earnestly. "He would be a 
 mighty funny God if He didn't like a 
 good dog." 
 
 On the fifth day of the meeting a goodly 
 number were gathered for the morning 
 service and the hour for the sermon had 
 arrived, but the preacher had not. Noon 
 came and still no parson. There was 
 much excitement, much speculation as to 
 his whereabouts, and Thomas Gollaher 
 and Thomas Lincoln hurriedly set out in 
 
THE COONSKIN CAP 103 
 
 search of him, he being a guest in the 
 home of the former. 
 
 But the good man had left the house 
 alone, as was his custom, to stroll through 
 the wilderness and commune with nature 
 for a brief season before expounding the 
 gospel. On this particular morning he 
 had set out earlier than usual, and was 
 seen to follow the path clown to Knob 
 Creek, to cross the foot-log and disappear 
 in the woods. Earnest and systematic 
 search revealed no slightest trace of him. 
 His disappearance was as complete as 
 though he had been gathered up in trail- 
 ing clouds of glory. For a long time 
 Brother Gentry and his unceremonious 
 departure was the subject of much discus- 
 sion ; a few believed him an impostor, but 
 the faith of the many was unshaken. 
 
 Theories without end were advanced, 
 but the one generally accepted was that 
 he had received a "call" to other fields 
 and had left neglecting to inform the con- 
 gregation of his intention. He had been 
 
104 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 heard to say that these calls from the 
 Lord often came to him unexpectedly and 
 that he obeyed without the loss of so much 
 as a moment's time. 
 
 But to one of the youthf ul pioneers the 
 hasty departure of the preacher brought 
 sadness, if not black distrust. Abraham's 
 coonskin cap, the one that Mrs. Hodgen 
 had made for him — his best Sunday-go- 
 to-meeting coonskin cap — had disap- 
 peared contemporaneously with the 
 parson. 
 
 On the day before, it seems, while the 
 reverend gentleman was crossing Knob 
 Creek, a sudden gust of wind blew his hat 
 from his bald head. The hat was caught 
 in the swift current of the stream and car- 
 ried far beyond any human reach. Now, 
 the Lincoln cabin was close at hand, so the 
 parson went there to beg protection for 
 his head, and Abraham's mother gladly 
 accommodated him with Abraham's coon- 
 skin cap. 
 
 "If that wasn't stealing, what was it?" 
 
THE COONSKIN CAP 105 
 
 Abe inquired of Austin. ' ' And I don 't be- 
 lieve lie got any call from the Lord, for if 
 he had the Lord would have told him to 
 take time to bring my cap back to me, or 
 to hang it on a pole where we could see it 
 when we passed. God doesn't want any- 
 body preaching for Him who takes caps 
 or anything else that doesn't belong to 
 'em. ' ' 
 
 "But, Abe," said Austin, "the preacher 
 is baldheaded, and it was chilly that morn- 
 ing and he might have taken cold if he had 
 nothing on his head." 
 
 "That's so," said Abe, "but it doesn't 
 make it right for the preacher to steal ; he 
 might have pulled one of his socks down 
 over his head. Besides, I saw him slip 
 some walnuts in his pocket the other day ; 
 and when he caught sight of me he looked 
 mighty sheepish. Of course, we didn't 
 care how many nuts he took, but he ought 
 to have asked for them. Don't you ever 
 take anything, Austin, that doesn't be- 
 long to you, for it won't do you any good. 
 
106 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 That preacher's sure to have trouble over 
 that cap. It might even turn into a coon 
 and scratch all the skin off his bald 
 head." And Abe's wide mouth expanded 
 into a grin, and Austin roared with 
 laughter. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 ABKAHAM AND THE CHURCH 
 
 Abraham was spending the night with 
 the Hodgens. He had said his prayers 
 and had been tucked away in his trundle 
 bed, a bed kept especially for him. Mrs. 
 Hodgen thought him asleep until, greatly 
 to her surprise, she heard him get up and 
 tiptoe to the open door, where he stood 
 looking out at the big gloomy trees, over 
 which a mellow summer moon was shin- 
 ing. "Down there in the grove would be 
 a good place to build the church," he 
 whispered to himself, "and I am going to 
 help the men cut down the trees and fix 
 the logs." 
 
 "What's the matter, Abraham?" asked 
 Mrs. Hodgen, "can't you sleep?" 
 
 107 
 
108 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 "Yes, Missus Sarah," he answered, 
 "but before I go to sleep I want to prom- 
 ise you that I'll cut down some trees and 
 shape some logs for the church you want 
 to build. I reckon I could cut down one a 
 day, trim it and get it ready. If the men 
 will cut down two trees a day, it wouldn't 
 be long till you'd have enough logs to 
 build the church." 
 
 "That is true, my boy," answered Mrs. 
 Hodgen, "but the men say they are too 
 busy to build the church. They have been 
 putting me off for a long time, but in the 
 morning we'll make Mr. John promise to 
 ask the men again if they won't get the 
 logs ready. ' ' And she tucked the boy once 
 more in his trundle bed, kissing him good 
 night and thanking him for his promise 
 of help. 
 
 That little whispered speech of Abe's 
 as he sat in the open door, bathed in the 
 summer moonlight, was really the inspi- 
 ration for the building of Hodgenville's 
 first church, for the next morning Mr. 
 
THE CHURCH 109 
 
 John promised his mother, in Abraham's 
 presence, that he would see that her dream 
 of a "house of worship" came true. 
 Young Lincoln was very happy, not be- 
 cause a church then meant anything to 
 him, but because Mrs. Hodgen was 
 pleased. Abraham now knew the church 
 was a certainty, because Mr. John had 
 promised, and Mr. John never forgot his 
 promises, or failed to keep his word. 
 
 Mrs. Hodgen never faltered in her ef- 
 forts to interest the pioneers in the enter- 
 prise so dear to her heart ; indeed, as the 
 days passed, she became more enthusias- 
 tic, more determined, and though she gave 
 a building site near the mill, yet she had 
 much trouble in getting the project 
 started. The pioneers were busy men and 
 then, too, most of them believed that the 
 wide-spreading canopy of heaven was all 
 the house of worship that was necessary — 
 that the camp-meeting ground was 
 sufficient. 
 
 Acting on Abraham's suggestion, Mis- 
 
110 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 sus Sarah went to the mill day after day 
 and talked " church-building" to every 
 man who came there, always saying that 
 the child, Abraham Lincoln, was going to 
 cut down one small tree each day and 
 shape the log ready for the builders. 
 "And surely," she would add, "if that 
 boy can do so much for us — if he is will- 
 ing to work early and late — you will cer- 
 tainly help." In this manner, Mrs. Hod- 
 gen got many promises and the church 
 was in time a reality. 
 
 "Missus Sarah," said Abraham, "when 
 the church is finished I hope that 
 preacher who left our house with my 
 coon skin cap on his head, and never came 
 back with it, won't come here to preach. 
 I kindo ' believe it was stealing for him to 
 go away with my cap, and I wouldn't like 
 to hear him preach, because I'd feel like 
 he wasn't the right kind of a man to tell 
 people what God wanted them to do." 
 
 "Now, Abraham," admonished Mrs. 
 Hodgen, "you must be forgiving; you 
 
THE CHURCH 111 
 
 must try to feel that the preacher just for- 
 got to return your cap before he left the 
 neighborhood, and that he did not intend 
 to keep it. Then, too, my boy," she con- 
 tinued, in her gentle manner, " don't you 
 know the preacher was bald, and the day 
 cool, and he might have frozen his head 
 had he gone away bareheaded. " 
 
 " That's so," answered Abraham, in a 
 solemn meditative way, ' i and I reckon his 
 bald head would have got a little cold ; but 
 do you know, Missus Sarah, he had better 
 mend his ways or his bald head will get 
 mighty hot some of these days. I saw 
 him doing some other things that weren't 
 right, and I don't believe the Lord wants 
 a man like that to be telling the people 
 what's right and what's wrong. Some 
 time he might preach a sermon and say it 
 was all right to take caps and walnuts and 
 hickory nuts without asking for them." 
 
 When John Hodgen made a snare for 
 Abe, the boy looked at it soberly and then 
 
112 THE BOYHOOD OE LINCOLN 
 
 threw a stick against the trigger. The 
 sapling, to which one end of the cord was 
 tied, flew up with great force, looping the 
 string tightly around one end of the stick. 
 
 "Now," said Mr. Hodgen, "that is the 
 way you'll catch them. When Mr. Rab- 
 bit, or Mr. Coon, or Mr. Opossum nibbles 
 the bait he'll be caught, and won't get 
 loose till you go to the snare the next 
 morning and take the cord from around 
 his neck." 
 
 "Yes, I see," said Abraham, "but that 
 thing will choke them to death, and they 
 might be a long time dying, and I don't 
 want to catch them that way. I'd rather 
 catch them in traps, so I could turn them 
 loose if they looked very pitiful. I have 
 turned lots of them loose," he added, then 
 smilingly: "and I believe they thanked 
 me when they got back to their homes in 
 the woods, and told their families that an 
 ugly boy turned them loose," and there 
 was a twinkle in Abraham's sober eyes. 
 
 "Now, Mr. John," continued the boy, 
 
THE CHURCH 113 
 
 "I couldn't sleep at night if I set a snare 
 like that. It's not fair to fool rabbits and 
 'possums and things by offering them 
 something to eat that's going to kill them 
 almost as quick as they touch it. That 
 would be a whole lot like somebody wrap- 
 ping up your sore toe in a rag with rattle 
 snake poison on the rag. All night I 'd be 
 thinking of something choking to death 
 out in the woods. When Missus Sarah 
 gets her church built and the preachers 
 come and preach, maybe they'll get some 
 of the men to quit killing things they 
 don't need. Please, Mr. John," begged 
 the boy, " don't show Austin how to make 
 snares; if he knew, he'd have them 
 strangling game every night. ' ' 
 
 Mr. Hodgen, after trying vainly to 
 amuse Abraham with the snare, the bow 
 and arrow, the cross-bow and the rifle, de- 
 clared he did not believe the boy would 
 kill anything if he were starving. But the 
 miller found Abraham very much alive to 
 the things that interested older people. 
 
114 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 "Abraham's mind is more than usual," 
 Mr. Hodgen would say, "it is so full of as- 
 tonishing things that at times it's un- 
 canny. Why, I would rather listen to him 
 talk than to half the men in the settle- 
 ment. He always finds something new 
 along the road and tells me about it every 
 time he comes to the mill." 
 
 "When Mrs. Hodgen asked young Pot- 
 tinger, of the neighborhood, to help cut 
 the logs for the church, telling him of 
 Abe's proposal," said Mr. Gollaher, "his 
 mother, Mrs. Mary Pottinger, overheard 
 the request and objected. She told Mrs. 
 Hodgen that she was afraid of the Lin- 
 coln boy ; saying that she believed he was 
 sent to the world by the devil to do some 
 evil thing; that his mind was even 
 brighter than her husband 's, and that her 
 husband was ' counted a smart man.' 
 When Mrs. Hodgen called her attention 
 to Abraham's l wonderful goodness,' Mrs. 
 Pottinger threw up her hands and ex- 
 claimed: l That's one of the tricks of the 
 
THE CHURCH 115 
 
 devil !' When pressed to tell what she 
 thought might happen, she said that some 
 day the devil would send a band of In- 
 dians against the settlement, and use 
 Abraham Lincoln as his instrument to ac- 
 complish its destruction. 
 
 "But Mrs. Hodgen predicted a great 
 future for young Abe. She believed he 
 would become a preacher and deliver his 
 first sermon in the log church he was then 
 trying to build, and that he would ulti- 
 mately become a great and famous di- 
 vine," continued Mr. Gollaher. "But 
 Mr. John disagreed with his mother, con- 
 tending that Abe would ' certainly become 
 a great judge.' He said Abe's inclination 
 to measure well before delivering, and to 
 consider well before going ahead, fitted 
 him for the woolsack. ' ' 
 
 "Teach Abraham all you can," was 
 John Hodgen 's appeal to his mother; 
 "teach him to read and to write, never 
 mind the arithmetic; figuring will nat- 
 urally follow." 
 
116 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 "On one of his trips to Elizabethtown, 
 Mr. John bought a volume of M sop's 
 Fables, and when Abe and I made our, 
 next visit to the mill he brought forth the 
 book and at the same time a small tray 
 filled with the prettiest bullets I had ever 
 seen," declared Lincoln's playmate. 
 " 'Now/ said Mr. John, 'I have a present 
 for you boys. Here 's this book for one of 
 you and these bullets for the other, but I 
 can't decide which to give you, Abraham, 
 or which to give Austin.' 'I don't want 
 the bullets,' Abe said very quickly, and 
 just as promptly I growled: 'I don't 
 want the book.' 'Then,' said Mr. John, 
 'the question is easily settled.' And he 
 gave Abe JE sop's Fables, and I took the 
 bullets. Well, sir, Abe fairly hugged 
 that book, and thanking Mr. John, he 
 said: 'Wouldn't swap it for a cow and 
 calf.' I was equally pleased with the 
 bright new bullets. And thus it was all 
 through life," sighed the old man, "Abe 
 kept on gathering books and reading 
 them, and I kept on gathering bullets and 
 
THE CHURCH 117 
 
 shooting them." Then, as though trying 
 to justify his life in the woods with his 
 gun, he said: "But I've seen the day 
 when I could shoot a squirrel's eyes out 
 every time I touched the trigger even if 
 he was on the highest branch of the tallest 
 tree in these hills. 
 
 " Abe was afraid to take the book home, 
 lest his father, who still had no patience 
 with book learning, would find it and de- 
 stroy it. So Missus Sarah was made the 
 custodian of these wonderful stories, and 
 she read them and reread them to Abe un- 
 til he could repeat many of them word for 
 word," said Mr. Gollaher, as he turned 
 the pages of the old Bible he held in his 
 lap. 
 
 "Abe sharpened his ax and went to 
 work like an experienced woodsman, fell- 
 ing trees for the church. And when we 
 reported to Missus Sarah that we had 
 four logs ready, she gave us a big c spread' 
 of blackberry jam on corn-bread," 
 laughed old Austin as he recalled young 
 Austin and his immortal playmate. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 A FRIENDLY CONTEST 
 
 Knowing that JEsop now awaited him 
 at Missus Sarah's, Abe had many reasons 
 to give his mother for extra trips to the 
 mill. 
 
 "He always wanted me to go along," 
 said Mr. Gollaher, "and whenever mother 
 would let me I accompanied him, but I 
 didn't hear many of the fables read, be- 
 cause the woods and Nolynn River were 
 too attractive. On our way to Hodgen 
 Mill one day Abe was suddenly attacked 
 with the old-fashioned ' bellyache.' 'It's 
 mother's green apple pie,' he said, 'and it 
 feels like a knife was ripping through 
 me. ' So when we came to the Stone House 
 we stopped and asked for a cup of hot 
 
 118 
 
A FRIENDLY CONTEST 119 
 
 water with some red pepper in it. The 
 tea gave Abe relief in a little while and 
 we were about to leave when he spied a 
 newspaper lying on a chair. He picked it 
 up, examined it carefully, and seemed so 
 much interested that the old woman who 
 fixed the tea for him asked him if he 
 would like to take the paper along and 
 read it. Abe very quickly answered i Yes- 
 sum,' you may be sure. It was a copy of 
 the paper printed at Bardstown and was 
 several weeks old, but Abe prized it 
 highly and guarded it very closely." 
 
 Since it was necessary to pass the mill 
 on the way from the Lincoln to the Hod- 
 gen home, Abe, Austin and Honey always 
 stopped to say "Hi" to Mr. John. 
 
 "Upon this occasion," said Mr. Golla- 
 her, "a youngster called Freckles who 
 was loafing around the mill awaiting the 
 grinding of his corn, threw a stone and 
 hit Abe's crippled dog. Honey yelped 
 and Abe cried out : 
 
 " 'Who hit my dogV 
 
120 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 " 'Freckles,' I said. 
 
 " 'Why did you do that, Freckles?' 
 asked Abe, quicker and hotter than I had 
 ever heard him speak before. 
 
 " ' Because the dog's ugly and I wanted 
 to hear him holler,' replied Freckles. 
 
 " 'Well,' said Abe, 'I am ugly too. 
 Next time you want to hit somebody ugly, 
 hit me ; I'll know why you hit me ; Honey 
 doesn't.' Then Abe walked away and sat 
 down upon a sack of corn, and patted 
 Honey. When Freckles approached him, 
 Abe asked: 'How would you like for 
 your father to slap you, when you didn't 
 know what he was slapping you for? 
 And besides,' he continued, 'if everything 
 that's ugly ought to be hit, somebody 
 would be hitting you most of the time, and 
 maybe lightning might strike you and kill 
 you. You are uglier than Honey and 
 meaner than the meanest dog I know. ' 
 
 "That kind of talk from Abe surprised 
 me, but I was mighty glad to hear it, be- 
 cause I used to think some of the bovs 
 
A FRIENDLY CONTEST 121 
 
 tried to run over him. I wanted to see 
 him fight, but he held his temper and 
 didn't seem to mind the taunts from the 
 lads down around the mill. But if any- 
 body mistreated Honey, Abe would show 
 fight quick enough, and then the boys, I 
 noticed, would leave him and his dog 
 alone. He had a funny way of talking to 
 the lads whenever he meant business," 
 chuckled Mr. Gollaher. "It was kind of 
 mild and yet it was forceful. And when 
 he cut loose they didn't bother him again 
 for quite a while." 
 
 John Hodgen called Freckles into the 
 mill and said to him : "If you throw any 
 more stones at Abraham Lincoln's dog, 
 there's going to be trouble around here, 
 and I am going to stand by and watch 
 Abraham give you a good whipping," 
 
 "Abe can't do it," Freckles muttered. 
 
 "Well, let's see," said Mr. Hodgen. 
 "Now this isn't to be a fight; but a 
 friendly little contest to see which is the 
 better man. 
 
122 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 "Come here, Abe; come here, Freck- 
 les," called Mr. John. "Now, Freckles, 
 you say Abraham can't whip you. What 
 do you say, Abraham?" 
 
 "I don't want to fight," answered Lin- 
 coln without the slightest change of ex- 
 pression in his sad face. 
 
 "But, boys," said Mr. Hodgen, "I told 
 you this was not to be a fight, but just a 
 little friendly contest to see which one 
 would whip if a sure-enough fight should 
 ever take place. Now," he went on, "I 
 want to see which one can lift the other 
 the easiest, by taking hold at the nape of 
 the neck and the seat of the trousers." 
 
 "Ready!" announced both boys. 
 
 "Turn around, Freckles; take hold, 
 Abe; now lift!" the miller commanded. 
 
 With ease Abraham held Freckles 
 aloft. 
 
 "Now," said Mr. Hodgen, "see if you 
 can shake him." 
 
 And Abraham shook Freckles till his 
 teeth chattered. 
 
A FRIENDLY CONTEST 123 
 
 When Freckles tried to lift Abraham 
 in the same way, he failed utterly. 
 
 "Now, then, Freckles, you surely don't 
 think you can whip Abe, do you?" asked 
 Mr. Hodgen. 
 
 "No, sir, I can't whip him and I won't 
 throw any more rocks at his dog," was 
 Freckles' honest acknowledgment and 
 voluntary promise. 
 
 ' ' During the excitement, ' ' said Mr. Gol- 
 laher, "I thought Abe had forgotten 
 about those fables, but I was mistaken. 
 Just as soon as he let go of Freckles he 
 said: 'Mr. John, I'm going down to your 
 house to get Missus Sarah to read to me 
 out of the book. ' As it was about dinner 
 time, Mr. John went with us. 
 
 iCi Where's your newspaper?' I asked, 
 thinking maybe Abe had forgotten it and 
 left it at the mill, but he had it folded up 
 nicely, sticking between the ear-laps of his 
 cap. 
 
 "When we reached the Hodgen home 
 we found dinner waiting for us, but Abe 
 
124 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 had to show Missus Sarah that old paper 
 before eating. After we had finished, 
 she examined it more closely, and found 
 in it a small notice of the sale of some ne- 
 groes at Bardstown the month before, 
 Then Missus Sarah said to Mr. John: 
 ' You might have gone to Bardstown and 
 bought one of those negro men had you 
 known of the sale. The work on the farm 
 is too heavy for the four men and the boy 
 we now have, and we must buy another 
 negro. ' 
 
 " 'I have heard,' said Abe to Missus 
 Sarah, ' that some people don 't treat their 
 negroes right. You know those travelers 
 — the man and his wife — who came 
 through here not long ago, told us that 
 they knew an old man who owned 
 lots of slaves, and that every time one of 
 them went blind, he soon died ; and every- 
 body believed the old man killed them to 
 keep from having to feed them. And 
 they said, too,' Abe went on, 'that he was 
 awful mean to them; that he sometimes 
 
A FRIENDLY CONTEST 125 
 
 whipped tliem until they bled. I think 
 people ought to be good to them, because, 
 I reckon, they are human beings just like 
 we are.' 
 
 "That was Abraham Lincoln's first 
 speech in behalf of the negro, and it was 
 made not against slavery, of course, but 
 against cruelty, just as he protested 
 against cruelty of all kinds," said Mr. 
 Gollaher. "We didn't know much about 
 slavery here in our neighborhood during 
 the period the Lincolns lived here. We 
 were most all too poor to own slaves. 
 Mrs. Hodgen and her sons owned a few, 
 and so did the LaRues, but they were good 
 to their negroes, and the subject of cruelty 
 to slaves was not discussed in this section 
 at that time." 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 A GOOD TIME UP THERE 
 
 They had finished the meal, and Abe> 
 Mr. John and Austin were sitting under 
 the shade of a tree in the yard, while Mis- 
 sus Sarah was superintending the clear- 
 ing of the table. In a little while she 
 would be there to read to Abraham from 
 his favorite Msop. Mr. John had 
 propped himself against a tree and had 
 bitten off a cheek-full of tobacco. "Abe," 
 he began, "you and Austin will tell me the 
 truth if I ask you a question, won't you?" 
 
 "Yes, Mr. John," both answered at 
 once. 
 
 "Have either of you ever taken a chew 
 of tobacco?" 
 
 "Once," answered Austin. 
 
 126 
 
A GOOD TIME UP THERE 127 
 
 "Well, did it make you sick, Austin ?" 
 asked Mr. Hodgen. 
 
 "No, sir," was the emphatic answer. 
 
 "If it didn't make you sick you will 
 very likely be a user of tobacco the rest of 
 your life," said Mr. Hodgen. 
 
 "No, sir, it never does make me sick," 
 Austin assured him. 
 
 "But you just told me that you had 
 taken but one chew," said Mr. Hodgen, 
 "and now you tell me that it never does 
 make you sick, which answer indicates 
 that you have taken more than one chew." 
 
 "Yes, sir, I was just going to tell you 
 that I have taken more than one chew, be- 
 cause I have been having the toothache, 
 and mother told me I could put tobacco 
 around my gums to ease the pain. It's 
 mighty good for that," Austin explained. 
 
 "Now, Abe, how about you?" Mr. Hod- 
 gen asked. 
 
 "No, sir, never, Mr. John," Abraham 
 very earnestly answered. 
 
 "Do you think you'd like to learn?" 
 
128 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 "I might." 
 
 "Why do you think you might?" 
 
 " Because they say it will keep teeth 
 from getting rotten and falling out. ' ' 
 
 "I have heard that, too," said Mr. Hod- 
 gen, "but I don't take much stock in such 
 a claim. Did you boys know there isn't any 
 kind of animal that will chew tobacco 1 ?" 
 
 "Grandfather had a billy-goat a long 
 time ago," Austin replied, "that chewed 
 up tobacco stems and swallowed them, but 
 it soon killed him, or something killed 
 him, and grandfather said he thought it 
 was the tobacco. ' ' 
 
 "Well," Mr. Hodgen didn't smile, "if 
 tobacco kills goats, it certainly would kill 
 boys, so both of you had better leave it 
 alone. ' ' 
 
 "I don't like it," said Abraham. "I 
 don't believe I'll ever try it." 
 
 But Missus Sarah now interrupted. 
 She had the JEsop book in her hands, and 
 Abe straightway forgot tobacco and ev- 
 erything else. 
 
A GOOD TIME UP THERE 129 
 
 " While mother reads to Abraham you 
 and I, Austin, will go feed the pigs, then 
 we'll all go back to the mill, for you boys 
 must start home early." 
 
 "I'll tell you what I am going to do," 
 announced Abraham a little later, as they 
 were on their way to the mill, ' ' I am going 
 to buy you out one of these days. I am 
 going away for about twenty-five years, 
 and then I am coming back to buy the 
 mill, and live here the rest of my life and 
 grind corn for the people, just like you 
 are grinding it, Mr. John. You would be 
 old then, and you and Missus Sarah could 
 live with us." 
 
 "In twenty-five years, my boy, I may 
 not be here, and Missus Sarah will surely 
 be on the other side of the Great River. 
 Twenty-five years is a long time and I 
 may be way up yonder where the stars 
 shine. Do you think I am good enough 
 to go to Heaven?" he asked, smiling. 
 
 Young Abraham looked up at Mr. John 
 
130 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 and there were tears in his eyes, but he 
 made no reply. He knew none was 
 necessary. 
 
 "We strolled on through the meadow in 
 silence," said Mr. Gollaher. "Abe was 
 absorbed and obviously meditating. That 
 reference to crossing the Great River had 
 saddened him and given him food for 
 thought. To my surprise, and to the sur- 
 prise of Mr. Hodgen, he finally said: 'I 
 wish that woman at the Stone House 
 hadn't given me that old newspaper; then 
 I wouldn't have thought about that old 
 man killing his blind slaves. ' Then, turn- 
 ing to Mr. John, Abe said: 'If I were in 
 Heaven I'd want God to take you, and 
 mother and father and sister Sarah, and 
 Missus Sarah right away, too, so we could 
 have a good time up there together. 
 When God wants a sure-enough friend in 
 Heaven He '11 send an angel after you, Mr. 
 John. ' 
 
 "Well, sir," continued Mr. Gollaher, 
 "I have never seen anybody, from that 
 
A GOOD TIME UP THERE 131 
 
 day to this, appreciate anything more 
 than Mr. Hodgen appreciated that re- 
 mark from Abe. He stopped there in the 
 meadow and put his big strong arms 
 around the boy and hugged him. His 
 voice was too husky to talk, I guess. 
 
 "After a time, he smiled and asked: 
 'What about Austin? Would you have 
 him brought up to Heaven right away, or 
 would you let him stay here for a while 
 longer?' 
 
 " 'I might ask God to bring him up 
 there, and I might not,' answered Abe. 
 'If he wanted to come I guess I would ask 
 God to let him in, but if he wanted to stay 
 here I would leave him alone until I 
 thought he was killing too many things of 
 the woods, then I would beg God to take 
 him — whether Austin wanted to come or 
 not.'" 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THE NICKNAME 
 
 The old gum-spring at the foot of the 
 hill — that hill upon which stood the log 
 grist mill of John Hodgen — was a favorite 
 spot with the thirsty traveler who passed 
 that way. Growing around the spring 
 and bending over it was a cluster of tall 
 willows, which protected it from the sum- 
 mer sun, and beneath the willows was 
 a bench made of a split log, upon which 
 the weary might rest while he quenched 
 his thirst. Upon every tree, a gourd was 
 hooked over the stob of a limb. The 
 spring was walled around with smooth 
 gray rocks and over it, upon four cedar 
 posts, was a rough moss-covered roof. 
 
 The spring was John Hodgen 's pride. 
 
 132 
 
THE NICKNAME 133 
 
 It was his standing invitation to all who 
 came near to drink and rest. Many peo- 
 ple in the neighborhood — more than a 
 century ago — pronounced the water heal- 
 ing, and came with jugs and carried it 
 away to their homes. The spring is still 
 there, but it has no care-taker and is now 
 no more than any other spring along 
 Nolynn River, except it is generally 
 known that the child Lincoln played 
 around it and drank of its water. 
 
 The miller permitted no rowdyism 
 around the spring, and dabbling in it was 
 positively forbidden. John Hodgen had 
 worked to make the place inviting, and he 
 insisted that all visitors " behave them- 
 selves' ' while enjoying his gum-spring's 
 refreshing hospitality. Old man Kastor 
 — one of the wits of the neighborhood — 
 used to lift his hat and bow his head be- 
 fore taking a drink, saying: "This water 
 is worth praying for. " 
 
 The boys who played around the old 
 spring over a century ago all had their 
 
134 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 nicknames, even as the boys of to-day. 
 Jimmie Ashcraft, for example, was called 
 Freckles for obvious reasons, and Austin 
 Gollaher was known as Buster, because lie 
 was big and fat and strong. 
 
 Four or five boys of the woods — "corn- 
 f etchers and meal-toters" Mr. Hodgen 
 called them — were grouped around the 
 spring one hot summer day. Among them 
 was Abraham Lincoln. He was standing 
 close to the little log trough through which 
 the spring water trickled into its well- 
 like rock walls. Old man Pottinger rode 
 up, alighted from his mule, took a gourd 
 from a stob and said: " Stand aside, 
 'High,' I want a drink." He was speak- 
 ing to Abraham Lincoln. The boys snig- 
 gered and laughed — Abraham had been 
 nicknamed and the youngsters were 
 elated. Mr. Pottinger explained that the 
 name was appropriate for two reasons: 
 one, that Abe was extremely high for his 
 age, and the other, that he met everybody 
 with the salutation"Hi!" "So, Abe," he 
 
THE NICKNAME 135 
 
 said good-naturedly, "we'll just call you 
 High after this. ' ' 
 
 The boys began at once to use the new 
 name every time they spoke to young Lin- 
 coln, and they made it convenient to speak 
 frequently, since they could easily see he 
 did not like the appellation. He made no 
 protest, but he walked away and sat down 
 upon a rock and covered his face with his 
 hands. 
 
 "Abe," said Austin, as the two climbed 
 the hill to the old mill, "I haven't teased 
 you and I'm not going to, but you 
 oughtn't get mad at the boys for calling 
 you High; that'll just make them bother 
 you that much more, until we'll have to 
 fight them, and we don't want to do that." 
 
 Abe made no reply to Austin's advice 
 further than to say he wasn't mad, but 
 when the two reached the mill he told Mr. 
 Hodgen that he had been nicknamed 
 High, and that he did not like it, adding 
 with a shamefaced smile: "I know I'm 
 high, and my legs and arms are outland- 
 
136 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 ish, and I 'm bigger than any boy my age, 
 but I don't want to be called High." 
 
 "Why, my dear boy," exclaimed the 
 miller, "the meaning of high is lofty, big, 
 great ! You ought to be pleased. You are 
 tall and big, of course, but the name does 
 not apply to your height; it applies to 
 your character, to your goodness of heart, 
 and to your superiority over other boys. 
 Don't you like the big, tall, straight trees 
 of the woods better than the small, knotty, 
 little ones? You are a big, tall, straight 
 tree, Abraham, and you tower above the 
 boys who tease you; they are scrub oaks 
 and sassafras saplings when compared 
 with you. ' ' 
 
 "But, Mr. John, I don't want to be 
 called High ; I am ashamed of myself be- 
 cause I am so high," Abraham answered 
 in his quiet emphatic way. 
 
 "Surely, Abraham," said Mr. Hodgen, 
 "you didn't leave the spring because you 
 were afraid of those boys ! Did you ?" he 
 asked quietly. 
 
THE NICKNAME 137 
 
 "No, sir, Mr. John, I am not afraid of 
 all of them," Abraham said simply with- 
 out animation. 
 
 "Then, take the bucket, go down to the 
 spring and get some fresh water for me," 
 and with that Mr. Hodgen handed Abra- 
 ham the water bucket. 
 
 Slowly the boy walked down the hill to 
 the spring. His tormentors were still 
 there. Austin started to follow, but the 
 miller called him back. Before Abe 
 reached the foot of the hill there was a 
 shout of "Here comes High," but Abra- 
 ham moved on with his customary long 
 indifferent swing. 
 
 Mr. Hodgen smilingly watched from 
 the mill window, and Austin stood by him 
 greatly agitated. 
 
 Now, Abraham was anything but a 
 fighter; he would not even quarrel. He 
 talked so very little that there was no op- 
 portunity for dispute with his boy asso- 
 ciates, and, while attempts had been made 
 to involve him in boyish difficulties, he 
 
138 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 did no more than look into the faces of 
 his tormentors and walk away. 
 
 A youngster by the name of Carl Vitti- 
 toe approached Abraham as he neared the 
 spring, the bucket swinging from his arm. 
 "High," said young Vittitoe, "I have 
 dropped my knife into the spring ; the wa- 
 ter '3 too deep for me to get it, but your 
 arms are so long you can reach it easy 
 enough. ' ' 
 
 Abraham put the bucket under the wa- 
 ter spout, "caught" it full and started 
 back toward the mill with that same indif- 
 ferent, characteristic swing. The Vitti- 
 toe boy grabbed him by the arm and 
 ripped a big hole in his shirt-sleeve. Very 
 quietly Abe set the bucket down, and just 
 as quietly he wound his long arms around 
 young Vittitoe, carried him to the spring 
 and soused him, headforemost, into the 
 water. When he brought the boy up, 
 dripping and sputtering, he was holding 
 his knife tightly in his wet hand. 
 
 Then Abraham said to the boy : "Carl, 
 
THE NICKNAME 139 
 
 when father has a piece of timber that is 
 too short, he splices it, so I had to splice 
 my arm by using yours. ' ' And he picked 
 up his bucket and went to the mill, never 
 once looking back. 
 
 "See here, Abraham," said Mr. Hod- 
 gen, feigning anger, " don't you know I 
 don't want you to play in that spring? 
 Didn't I see you dipping Carl in the 
 water?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, but I wasn't playing," Abra- 
 ham answered. 
 
 "Oh! you were fighting, were you?" 
 
 "No, sir, I wasn't fighting; I was help- 
 ing Carl get his knife out of the spring. ' ' 
 
 After this episode the boys called him 
 Abe. 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE EXPLORERS 
 
 Austin Gollaher's grandfather had 
 gone with a raft of pelts to Louisville, and 
 Austin was staying with his grandmother 
 farther up among the Knob Creek hills. 
 Abraham was lonely — pathetically lonely 
 with Austin away. His only diversion 
 was to wander over the hills and through 
 the woods, with Honey following at his 
 heels. It was now spring, and since Abra- 
 ham could handle a hoe or a spade 
 fairly well, much of his time was spent in 
 the fields. 
 
 Austin away, Abraham and Honey 
 made the weekly trip to the mill alone. 
 Saturday was always the busiest " grind- 
 ing day" and there was a rush among the 
 
 140 
 
THE EXPLORERS 141 
 
 children of the pioneers "to get there 
 first," for they knew that the bag of corn 
 to reach the mill first went to the hopper 
 first; that rule of taking them as they 
 came was always closely observed. 
 
 "Everywhere Abraham goes Honey 
 goes, and I'm glad of it," said Mrs. Lin- 
 coln to Mrs. Gollaher one morning as the 
 boy and the dog set off for the mill. "He 
 may fool away more time by having 
 Honey with him, but I believe he is some 
 protection; at least, I'm not so uneasy 
 when I know the two are together." 
 
 When Abraham dropped his sack of 
 corn upon the mill floor, Mr. Hodgen 
 said : "Late again ; look at the bags ahead 
 of you; it will be sundown before your 
 turn comes, and I'll have to take you home 
 again. I can't let you go through the 
 dark woods alone." 
 
 "I am not afraid, Mr. John, and 
 neither is Honey, ' ' answered the boy. 
 
 "But, Abraham," said Mr. Hodgen, 
 somewhat out of humor, "why do you fool 
 
142 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 your time away? You must get here 
 earlier. You have seen these hills and 
 hollows hundreds of times and I can't un- 
 derstand what you find to keep you so 
 long on the road." 
 
 "Well, Mr. John," began Abraham, 
 "Honey got a 'possum in a hollow stump, 
 and I couldn't get him to leave it, and I 
 couldn't leave Honey. I wanted to get 
 here early to-day, but I just couldn't 
 make Honey hurry." 
 
 Late in the afternoon Abraham's meal 
 was sacked, and Mr. Hodgen blew three 
 times on a cane-pole whistle. That was 
 Abe's signal, and he knew it well and al- 
 ways listened for it. But this time he did 
 not reply. Again and again the whistle 
 was blown, but there was no response. 
 Inquiry among the boys developed the 
 fact that Abe had not been seen for two 
 or three hours ; that then he was sitting on 
 the roots of a big tree, looking out upon 
 the mill pond. 
 
 Standing upon a high bank, alarmed 
 
THE EXPLORERS 143 
 
 and apprehensive, John Hodgen halloed 
 and gazed down into the green waters of 
 Nolynn River as though to arouse Abe, 
 who could not swim, from the bottom of 
 the stream. He called at the top of his 
 voice: " Abraham! Abraham! Abraham!" 
 Out in the middle of the river a lazy 
 muskrat lounged, and John Hodgen, 
 thinking in his excitement that it was the 
 top of the boy's coonskin cap, plunged 
 into the water, diving where the muskrat 
 was lounging. 
 
 From a messenger sent to his home, he 
 learned that Abraham had been there but 
 had left three hours before, presumably 
 to go to the mill. For an hour he contin- 
 ued the search and then he sent a man to 
 the Lincoln cabin to notify Abraham's 
 parents and the Gollahers. They were 
 asked to report to the mill, where they 
 would decide upon a plan of action. 
 
 With anxious faces, pale in the light of 
 their pine-knot torches, they soon gath- 
 ered at the mill where many pioneers and 
 
144 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 their families, having heard that Thomas 
 Lincoln's boy Abraham was lost, had pre- 
 ceded them. Mr. Lincoln was greatly ex- 
 cited. Thomas Gollaher and Abraham 
 Enlow tried to encourage him though 
 sadly apprehensive themselves. 
 
 Mrs. Lincoln rubbed her poor white 
 hands and prayed. "Mr. Hodgen," she 
 asked, "have you seen the dog*? Was 
 Honey with Abraham when he came to 
 the mill ?" 
 
 "Yes, the dog was with him." 
 
 "Then," she said, "both have been 
 drowned, or have been stolen by Indians 
 who sometimes pass over their old trails 
 on their way north. If Honey is alive, he 
 will come home, or back to the mill. ' ' 
 
 Preparations were made for an all- 
 night hunt, but none knew where to begin 
 the search. They could not drag the river 
 at night; so it was finally decided to go 
 first through the woods surrounding the 
 Hodgen home. 
 
 Mrs. Lincoln stood under the shed-like 
 
THE EXPLORERS 145 
 
 porch of the house, where they stopped a 
 moment while Mr. John got into some dry 
 clothes, and was looking out into the som- 
 ber depths of the grove which seemed to 
 hover over her like a hideous monster, 
 ready to strike her down with its big 
 hands. Somewhere in the depths of the 
 forest she saw, in her imagination, an In- 
 dian war-dance, and her thoughts turned 
 back to the time when she, a little girl, was 
 stolen by the savages. Then, awakened 
 suddenly from her terrifying reverie, she 
 cried out with all her strength: " Here's 
 Honey! Here's Honey!" 
 
 From somewhere out of the night the 
 dog came. He whined at her feet and 
 looked up appealingly into the eyes of 
 first one and then another, until, finding- 
 Mr. John, he jumped upon the miller and 
 barked again and again, squarely in his 
 face. 
 
 " Gather your torches!" John Hodgen 
 commanded, "and we'll follow where the 
 dog leads." 
 
146 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 With a yelp, the panting Honey circled 
 the corner of the house and dashed 
 through the garden, barking as he ran. 
 Everybody, as everybody usually does in 
 such circumstances, expected the worst; 
 expected the dog to lead them to Abra- 
 ham's mangled body, though many a si- 
 lent prayer went up for the boy's safety. 
 
 To the north and west of the Hodgen 
 house Nolynn River circled, and it was 
 straight to the river that Honey led the 
 searching party. 
 
 "I know where the boy is!" shouted 
 John Hodgen joyously. "Why didn't I 
 think of it before? He's lost in that con- 
 founded cave ; we'll soon find him and I'll 
 bet he's not hurt a bit. But I can't imag- 
 ine what the boy meant by going into that 
 hole; I have never known him to do a 
 thing like that before." 
 
 When they reached the cave, John Hod- 
 gen commanded every one to be quiet 
 while he blew his whistle three times. 
 There was a moment's anxious silence. 
 
THE EXPLORERS 147 
 
 Then from somewhere back in the cave 
 came a faint voice : 
 
 "Here I am, but I'm fastened!" 
 
 "I'll get you out," cried Mr. John. 
 "Your meal is ready and you ought to 
 have been on your way home a long time 
 ago." 
 
 When he at last reached Abe it was to 
 find him tightly wedged between two 
 large rocks, and when the miller pulled 
 Abe groaned, because as he afterward 
 said; "Some of my hide was coming off." 
 
 "It's a mystery," declared Mr. Hod- 
 gen, "how the boy ever got himself in such 
 a fix. For a while I thought we were go- 
 ing to need sledges to break the rock, but 
 when I found it would be impossible to 
 strike hard enough to do that in those 
 close quarters, I just decided to pull Abra- 
 ham out, even if I had to skin him." 
 
 Young Lincoln was very much sur- 
 prised to find the large searching party 
 at the mouth of the cave. He had been 
 busy trying to squeeze through and 
 
148 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 thought little about the length of time he 
 had been in the cave. After he had been 
 hugged by his mother and Missus Sarah 
 it was his father's time to be a little " af- 
 fectionate." But John Hodgen inter- 
 ceded, saying : 
 
 "Now, Tom, Abraham is my prisoner, 
 and I want you to give me your word that 
 you won't whip the boy when you get him 
 home, that you won't even scold him. The 
 experience he has passed through is les- 
 son enough. He'll never go into that cave 
 again." 
 
 "I came home from my grandfather's 
 late in the afternoon of the day Abe was 
 lost," said Mr. Gollaher, "but I could not 
 go with the searching party because they 
 made me stay with my little sister. But 
 I told mother they needn't have any fear, 
 that Abe would turn up safe and sound." 
 
 The next day when the boys were dis- 
 cussing the adventure, Abe said: "Now, 
 you see, Austin, Honey has paid me back 
 for mending his broken leg." 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THE FOX AND THE TRAP 
 
 " There is no use to worry or be sad and 
 cry," said Abraham one day as he wiped 
 the tears from his eyes first with one and 
 then the other of his shirt-sleeves. "It's 
 foolish, but I just can't help it, Austin — I 
 just can't help it when I get to feeling like 
 the little Brownfield children felt when 
 their mother died. ' ' 
 
 "What you crying about? What you 
 talking about?" asked Austin 
 impatiently. 
 
 ' ' Nothing much, ' ' Abe answered. " I 'm 
 just down in the mouth, like mother says 
 she used to get before we moved over here 
 from the Cave Spring Farm." 
 
 "Tell me what's the matter, Abe," said 
 Austin kindly. 
 
 149 
 
150 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 "Well, I reckon I'm crying because fa- 
 ther keeps on talking about moving to 
 * Indian Anner,' or somewhere a long 
 ways from here, and I don't want to go 
 and neither does mother. And I'm afraid 
 he won't let me take Honey. Then I never 
 will be happy. I believe Honey knows 
 father doesn't want him around, and that 
 mother and I are worried about some- 
 thing, because when we talk about moving 
 he just looks up at us for a minute or two, 
 then kind o ' whines and goes off and curls 
 up in a corner. Of course, I know if we 
 go and I have to leave Honey here you 
 will treat him all right, but he would be 
 awful lonesome, because he loves me more 
 than anybody knows. ' ' 
 
 "But, Abe," said Austin, "you have 
 been sad about one thing and another ever 
 since you w T ere a baby. Mother says you 
 looked worried the day after you were 
 born. She says you are now as big as a 
 fourteen-year-old boy, and that you 
 oughtn't to cry so much. Why, she said 
 
THE POX AND THE TRAP 151 
 
 she caught you crying yesterday when she 
 chopped a chicken's head off, so's we 
 could haye it for sister's birthday dinner. 
 You ate plenty of the chicken just the 
 same, ' ' Austin added laughingly. 
 
 " People just can't know my feelings, 
 and I reckon they never will. I wasn't 
 crying about the chicken ; I was crying be- 
 cause I felt bad about moving away from 
 here. Of course, after the chicken was 
 dead and cooked," continued Abe, "I ate 
 some of it." 
 
 Perhaps the hardest whipping Abra- 
 ham ever received from his father was for 
 liberating a red fox from a trap. Mr. 
 Lincoln had not been well for several days 
 and his wife insisted that he take Abra- 
 ham with him when he went to visit his 
 traps, scattered through the hills and 
 along the banks of Knob Creek. Thomas 
 Lincoln was an expert trapper, and upon 
 this particular occasion was unusually 
 successful. He had caught a coon and a 
 fox, and had about finished skinning 
 
152 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 them, when Abraham, who had gone ahead 
 to the next trap and discovered it held a 
 fine red fox, deliberately lifted the trap 
 door and invited the fox to enjoy his 
 freedom. 
 
 " Why did you do that?" demanded Mr. 
 Lincoln as he stepped up to Abraham, 
 who stood in pleasant contemplation of 
 the open trap door. 
 
 " Father," replied the boy in his most 
 appealing tones, " wasn't two animals 
 enough for one day? Just think how 
 happy that old red fox is, to be out in the 
 woods again." 
 
 But Mr. Lincoln didn't see it that way, 
 and gave Abraham a cuff on the side of 
 the head, and when they got home a sound 
 whipping, over the protest of Mrs. Lin- 
 coln. After quiet was restored Mrs. Lin- 
 coln reproved Abraham in that gentle, 
 sweet way of hers, and warned him that 
 he must never be guilty of such a thing 
 again. 
 
THE FOX AND THE TRAP 153 
 
 "But, mother, I just couldn't help it," 
 he said. "I knew it wasn't right — I just 
 couldn't help it, and I reckon I'd have 
 done it even had I thought father would 
 have skinned me like he did the fox and 
 the coon he caught. I'm mighty sorry I 
 displeased father, but I'm glad that fox 
 is back in the woods with its family." 
 
 Abraham had, a number of times be- 
 fore, turned loose his father's "catches," 
 greatly to Austin's disgust, who threat- 
 ened to tell on him if he didn't stop it. 
 The two boys got into an argument over 
 the right and wrong of the matter and 
 the question was finally left to Mrs. Gol- 
 laher for settlement. She very promptly 
 agreed with Austin that Abe was in the 
 wrong, and said: "Tell me, Abraham, 
 why do you do such foolish things'?" 
 
 "Because," the boy replied, "we have 
 no right to more than we need. There 
 ain't no use in killing those animals 
 and birds; and I don't like to see them 
 
154 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 suffer. That is my reason for letting 
 them out." 
 
 But after this, Abraham never mo- 
 lested his father's traps, though he wasn't 
 convinced that it was right or legitimate 
 to catch more than was actuallv needed. 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 THE GOAT AND THE COAT 
 
 In the yard of the Hodgen home be- 
 neath the great boughs of walnut and 
 hickory trees, was a crudely constructed 
 table, surrounded by benches made of 
 split logs. It was ' ' designed ' ' and erected 
 by John Hodgen for one purpose only: 
 to bear the feast that the miller annually 
 spread for his friends, who were invited 
 from far and near to come, eat and be 
 neighborly. 
 
 On the third Saturday in July, the Lin- 
 colns, the Gollahers, the Enlows, the 
 Brownfields, the Walters, the Kirkpat- 
 ricks, the LaRues and many others were 
 expected to gather for the banquet with- 
 out formal invitation, and to make merry 
 
 155 
 
156 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 with, their friends and neighbors. The 
 day became generally known as the "Hod- 
 gen-Dinner-Day"; the people kept it in 
 mind and the attendance grew ]arger each 
 year. 
 
 It was at one of these Hodgen dinners, 
 where the community's needs were often 
 discussed, that it was decided to build a 
 schoolhouse and a church. Pledges were 
 made not in writing, for a man's word 
 given at John Hodgen 's table was never 
 broken. The church and schoolhouse 
 were built, and Mrs. Hodgen saw her 
 dream fulfilled. Then finally a town was 
 "laid off" and named Hodgenville, in 
 honor of Robert Hodgen. 
 
 " Right there where the old brick 
 clerk's office stands," said Mr. Gollaher, 
 "in front of the court-house, at the foot 
 of the hill, I saw Abe's dog, Honey, have 
 a fight with a coon. I poked the coon out 
 of a hollow tree and Honey grabbed him — 
 grabbed him by the throat and killed 
 
THE GOAT AND THE COAT 157 
 
 him.* When I came up to the mill, two 
 hundred yards away, dragging the coon 
 after me, Abe looked at Honey and Honey 
 looked at Abe, then Abe said: 'You 
 didn't have to do it, Honey; you didn't 
 have to kill that coon.' " 
 
 The dinner was on in earnest ; the table 
 piled high with venison, turkey, a young 
 pig and numerous "side dishes." Every- 
 body was happy. Abe and Austin were 
 eating from the top of a stump, and, like 
 the grown-ups at the big table, were dis- 
 cussing the needs of the community. Aus- 
 tin wanted a gunsmith to move into the 
 neighborhood, while Abe wanted a school- 
 teacher, and there was a rather warm dis- 
 cussion as to which would be the more 
 valuable acquisition. 
 
 A billy-goat was grazing in the yard. 
 He was one of John Hodgen's pets. In 
 fact, he was petted and made over by ev- 
 
 *A Lincoln monument has been erected where those 
 old buildings stood — upon the spot where Austin and 
 Honey caught the coon in the hollow tree. 
 
158 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 erybody whose sense of smell was not too 
 acute. Abraham was fond of the goat, so 
 fond, indeed, that his mother made him, 
 on one occasion, go for a full day in noth- 
 ing but his long-tailed shirt until she 
 could wash and dry his trousers. Abra- 
 ham had only one pair of trousers and 
 when his mother, once each month, 
 "freshened" them in Knob Creek, he was 
 forced to wear a long shirt, or apron, un- 
 til the cleansing ceremony was over.* 
 
 Old Mr. Kirkpatrick, one of the regular 
 guests at the annual Hodgen dinner, was 
 a very dignified and impressive individ- 
 ual, even in the matter of dress. He was 
 the owner of a coat, fashioned somewhat 
 after the style of the more modern Prince 
 Albert, which he had brought with him 
 from Virginia when he moved into the 
 community several years before and 
 which he had guarded jealously for some- 
 thing like a quarter of a century. Mr. 
 
 *Long shirts, or aprons, were worn by boys in 
 those days and it was not unusual during the summer 
 to meet a boy upon the highway in his shirt-tail. 
 
THE GOAT AND THE COAT 159 
 
 Kirkpatrick never donned the famous 
 garment except upon a state occasion 
 such as the Hodgen dinner, or when he 
 was expected to take some prominent part 
 in the camp-meeting services. 
 
 The day was hot and all the pioneers ex- 
 cept Mr. Kirkpatrick were in their shirt- 
 sleeves. He was sweltering in the historic 
 coat, buttoned tightly to the neck. After 
 much persuasion, his wife succeeded in 
 getting him to remove it, when she care- 
 fully folded the " garment of state" and 
 placed it in the low forks of a small tree. 
 
 The school and church were under dis- 
 cussion, as was also a project to improve 
 the roads to Bardstown and Elizabeth- 
 town, and Mr. Kirkpatrick had become so 
 deeply interested in the welfare speeches 
 that, although the dinner was over, he had 
 forgotten he was in his shirt-sleeves and 
 was not in the least embarrassed because 
 of his undignified appearance. The meet- 
 ing was drawing to a close; some of the 
 far-distant visitors had already departed. 
 
160 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 "Wife," commanded Mr. Kirkpatrick, 
 "bring my coat and we will be going." 
 
 There was a smothered scream from 
 Mrs. Kirkpatrick; she seemed about to 
 swoon. The billy-goat had feasted on the 
 tail of Mr. Kirkpatrick 's coat, had, in 
 fact, chewed it off almost to the buttons 
 at the waistband. To say that the old gen- 
 tleman was disturbed but lightly ex- 
 presses it. He was ruined, heart-broken, 
 he actually sobbed and then and there 
 made a solemn vow never again to try to 
 "fix himself up to look like a gentleman" ; 
 that thenceforth he would dress as the 
 common herd dressed. And he kept his 
 word. He became a sort of backwoods 
 "raggedy man," uncouth and unkempt. 
 
 Mr. Hodgen and his mother were cha- 
 grined over the ungentlemanly behavior 
 of the goat, and the miller energetically 
 applied the lash. 
 
 "What are you doing that for?" asked 
 Abraham with some show of excitement. 
 "Why, Mr. John, don't you know the goat 
 
THE GOAT AND THE COAT 161 
 
 thought he had as much right to eat Mr. 
 Kirkpatrick's coat-tail as Mr. Kirkpat- 
 rick had to eat the pig you had on the 
 table?" 
 
 "You must get rid of that goat," inter- 
 rupted Mrs. Hodgen. 
 
 "Take him, Abraham," said Mr. Hod- 
 gen, "he will carry your corn to the mill 
 and your meal back home. ' ' 
 
 Thus through the misfortune of Mr. 
 Kirkpatrick, Abraham Lincoln became 
 the owner of a billy-goat — a piece of prop- 
 erty he had long coveted. 
 
 "It seems to me," said Thomas Lincoln, 
 "that Abraham has too many pets. He 
 has a dog and a coon, and now the goat. ' ' 
 
 "Let him have it," said Mr. Hodgen. 
 "It won't be in the way, and you haven't 
 a long-tail coat, Tom." 
 
 "That's true," replied Mr. Lincoln, 
 "but if that goat should form an appetite 
 for trousers and eat up my only pair I'd 
 be in a bad fix. ' ' 
 
 Abraham did not speak while the dis- 
 
162 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 cussion between his father and Mr. Hod- 
 gen was going on, but when it was finally 
 settled that he could accept the gift he 
 said: "I'm mighty glad he's mine, and 
 I don't think father will mind the goat 
 much when he gets used to him ; all ani- 
 mals, even people, have a funny smelh A 
 horse may not like something about a 
 man, but just suppose he'd try to throw 
 the man every time he rode him. It's 
 best for men and animals not to notice 
 things they don't like in each other." 
 
 "It was a big job," said Mr. Gollaher, 
 "to take the goat home that afternoon. 
 He did lots of cutting up, and was some- 
 times inclined to use his head in urging 
 his objection to the change of residence. 
 To the surprise of both Abe and myself, 
 Mr. Lincoln helped us when Billy became 
 too unruly. However, at one time during 
 the trip home I thought the jig was up. 
 Mr. Lincoln had stooped over to tie his 
 shoe, and the goat, breaking loose from 
 Abe, made a center drive. Well, it was 
 
THE GOAT AND THE COAT 163 
 
 funny; Mrs. Lincoln laughed and I got 
 behind a tree and fairly screamed. But 
 Abe looked as solemn as a judge. He was 
 too badly scared to laugh ; he thought the 
 goat's doom was at hand. But to our sur- 
 prise and gratification, Mr. Lincoln be- 
 gan to smile, then he said: 'I have de- 
 cided to try to keep from getting mad 
 over small matters. ' 
 
 "Abe and I were lagging behind coax- 
 ing the goat, and I had begun to wish that 
 he hadn't eaten the tail off of Mr. Kirk- 
 patrick's coat. 
 
 " ' Austin, I believe father did get a lit- 
 tle religion during camp-meeting,' said 
 Abe. 'He must or he'd have kicked Billy 
 all the way back to Mr. John's. I was 
 scared. Do you think he smells bad'?' 
 Abraham asked dryly. 
 
 " 'Well, I reckon he does,' I answered. 
 'But mother says goats keep away certain 
 kinds of sickness from folks and that 
 horses and mules never get sick if a goat 
 stays in the field with them.' " 
 
164 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 For several days the boys were puzzled 
 over Mr. Lincoln's friendliness toward 
 Billy; lie was seen several times to pat 
 him on the head, and never once did he of- 
 fer to kick him. But it soon developed 
 that somebody had told Mr. Lincoln that 
 it was good luck to own a goat. Now, Abra- 
 ham's father was not super-supersti- 
 tious, but he evidently believed it worth 
 while to be a little courteous toward the 
 goat, hoping that Billy might be the 
 means of helping him over some of life's 
 rough places. 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 THE RESCUE 
 
 The Rolling Fork, a tempestuous little 
 river, separated LaRue from Nelson 
 County. It was a most dangerous stream 
 and numbered its victims by the hun- 
 dreds. Before the bridge-building era, 
 sign-boards at every ford warned the 
 traveler not to try to cross over if the wa- 
 ter was colored with mud. Those who 
 failed to heed often paid for their 
 stubbornness. 
 
 Thomas Lincoln was made overseer of 
 that part of the ridge-road which led from 
 Hodgen's Mill to the Rolling Fork, a dis- 
 tance of eight or ten miles. He was en- 
 thusiastic over the honor bestowed upon 
 him by the Hardin County Court and 
 spent much of his time riding a small 
 
 165 
 
166 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 mule along the road, mapping out in his 
 mind methods of improvement. Late one 
 evening he came home drenched, muddy 
 and highly excited, and announced that he 
 had lost his mule and pretty nearly his 
 own life. He had attempted to ford the 
 river; the mule, a small one, could not 
 carry his rider, and in a few moments, 
 went down. Mr. Lincoln was hurled to 
 the opposite side of the river, where he 
 seized the overhanging limb of a small 
 tree and pulled himself ashore. So out- 
 raged was he that he threatened to sue 
 Hardin County for the loss of the mule, 
 but when convinced that such a suit would 
 be futile, because he had no business on 
 the Nelson County side of the river, he 
 dropped the matter and resigned as over- 
 seer of the road. The loss of the mule was 
 a severe one, since it was the onlv work 
 
 7 v 
 
 animal Mr. Lincoln possessed. 
 
 On one occasion Abraham and Austin 
 Gollaher, with their fathers and one or 
 
THE RESCUE 167 
 
 two neighbors, walked four miles to the 
 Rolling Fork to see the high waters rush- 
 ing over the lowlands and tearing through 
 the valleys like a yellow snake. 
 
 "Austin," Abe said thoughtfully, "that 
 water acts like something has made it 
 mad, and it is taking its spite out on the 
 trees and rocks and hills. I call it the 
 ' Mad River.' " Then he turned his eyes 
 away from the muddy terrifying water to 
 the pleasanter sight of the quiet valleys 
 that had not yet been inundated. 
 
 "Look, father, look down yonder!" he 
 suddenly exclaimed, tugging at his fa- 
 ther 's coat sleeve. ' i There 's a mule down 
 there with something on its back, and I 
 
 don't see anv man with it." 
 
 «/ 
 
 "You are right," said Mr. Lincoln; and 
 the party of sight-seers hurried to the foot 
 of the hill, forgetting the river in their 
 eagerness to investigate the mystery of 
 the mule. 
 
 A sack strapped to its back contained 
 some pans and cups and a few small tools. 
 
168 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 The pioneers were puzzled but at the same 
 time convinced that a traveler had been 
 caught in the current of the river and had 
 perished. It was decided that the mule 
 should become the property of Thomas 
 Lincoln, if the owner could not be found, 
 because it was first seen by Abraham. 
 As Mr. Lincoln needed a mule, he was 
 much elated over what he considered his 
 good fortune and exclaimed: "The river 
 took my mule from me, now it brings me 
 another. God has been good to me during 
 the past year." 
 
 "But, father," Abraham said in his 
 quiet way, "God didn't have anything to 
 do with your getting the mule, because the 
 man who owned it must have lost his life 
 in the river." 
 
 Mr. Lincoln did not like this reminder 
 that he had gained the mule at the cost of 
 a human life and was about to reprimand 
 his son, but Mr. Gollaher averred that as 
 Abe had found the mule he had a right to 
 express himself on the subject. 
 
THE RESCUE 169 
 
 "Be quiet a minute," exclaimed 
 Brownfield, one of the now homeward 
 bound party; "I heard somebody 
 calling. ' ? 
 
 "Help!" came a cry from the woods. 
 
 "Shout again!" was the answer from a 
 half dozen throats, and following the di- 
 rection of the sound, the pioneers soon 
 came upon a man propped against a tree. 
 His clothing was wet and muddy and 
 torn, and his face was gaunt from hunger, 
 but the sight of kindly people around him 
 seemed to revive him and he said in a low 
 husky voice : 
 
 "My name is Jonathan Keith; I was 
 caught in the current of the stream day 
 before yesterday, in the afternoon, and I 
 have been in the forest ever since without 
 food or shelter. I reckon my companion 
 and his mule were drowned." 
 
 He was informed that the mule had 
 been found, but that there was no sign of 
 his rider. The unfortunate man then ex- 
 plained that he and his friend Wilson, 
 
170 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 both of North Carolina, were prospecting, 
 and that when they came to the river they 
 attempted to ride the mule across, one be- 
 hind the other, but that hardly were they 
 in the water than they were caught in a 
 swift undercurrent and hurled to what 
 seemed certain death. Mr. Keith said 
 that he fought the river and its whirlpools 
 until he reached the bank and pulled him- 
 self out, but that his companion and the 
 mule went down. 
 
 "Then," said Thomas Lincoln, " maybe 
 this ain't his mule." 
 
 " Was the mule bareback, or did he have 
 something strapped to him?" asked Mr. 
 Gollaher. 
 
 "He had a sack with some cups and 
 pans and some small tools in it, strapped 
 to his back," was the answer. 
 
 "Then," said Mr. Gollaher, "the mule 
 we found was the property of your com- 
 panion, and in case of his death it should, 
 in my opinion, fall to you, if not claimed 
 by relatives of Mr. Wilson." 
 
THE RESCUE 171 
 
 To this Mr. Lincoln very readily 
 agreed, and the unfortunate stranger was 
 assisted to the Lincoln home where he was 
 told he might remain until a search could 
 be made for the lost companion. Several 
 days later, the body was found in the 
 prongs of a small tree two miles from the 
 ford where he met death. 
 
 "Stay right here with me during the 
 winter, Mr. Keith, and help me with my 
 traps," invited Mr. Lincoln, "and I will 
 give you a share. And," he continued, 
 "if you will stay with me through the 
 summer and use the mule in cultivating 
 the crop, I will give you half." 
 
 Keith agreed, and so became a fixture 
 in the community. Indeed, he never left 
 it. But Jonathan Keith was not success- 
 ful as a farmer ; he preferred to make bas- 
 kets of willow and buckets of cedar and to 
 do odd jobs of tinkering here and there. 
 He and Abraham became good friends, 
 for he too believed that the unnecessary 
 slaughter of game was all wrong, and was 
 
172 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 of the opinion that every boy should learn 
 to read and write. 
 
 "Mr. Keith was a mighty good man," 
 said Mr. Gollaher, "he was patient and 
 kind, and all of the children in our com- 
 munity liked him. He taught Abe and me 
 how to make small willow baskets, and one 
 time we sent six or eight of them to 
 Bardstown and swapped them for some 
 fishing hooks and lines." 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 honey's old master 
 
 Within a dozen feet of them mumbling 
 to himself and peeping mysteriously from 
 behind a tree stood a little man, pinched 
 of face and stoop-shouldered, frightful to 
 look upon. His yellow, shaggy, dog-like 
 hair fell over his eyes and ears, and there 
 was a scar half circling from the corner 
 of his left eye to his chin. 
 
 The stranger's presence was inexplain- 
 able ; it seemed as if he must have sprung 
 from a hole in the ground, and Abe and 
 Austin were both somewhat startled. The 
 hair on Honey's back bristled; his mouth 
 curled, and he growled through set teeth, 
 ready for a battle royal. Instinct warned 
 him that he faced an enemy. 
 
 "Honey, behave yourself!" com- 
 173 
 
174 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 manded Abe when he had recovered from 
 the first surprise. But Honey only 
 growled the more fiercely. Abe put his 
 arm around the dog's neck and tried to 
 quiet him, but Honey was not so easily 
 appeased; he had fight in him and Abe 
 had to cling tightly to keep him from 
 springing on the stranger. 
 
 The ugly, dirty, little man seemed be- 
 wildered, but he spoke to the dog and 
 snapped his fingers at him in an effort 
 to make friends, though there was no in- 
 clination on the part of Honey to be 
 friendly. 
 
 "Go away, or he will tear you to 
 pieces, ' ' warned Austin ; but the man did 
 not move. 
 
 "Where did you get that dog?" But 
 before Abe or Austin could answer he con- 
 tinued : "I believe on my soul it 's my dog 
 Whistle, come back to life. Whistle, don't 
 you know me? Don't you know your old 
 master? Come to me, Whistle; I want 
 you. I want you to forgive me. ' ' 
 
HONEY'S OLD MASTER 175 
 
 But Honey only snapped and growled 
 the louder. 
 
 " Where 'd you get the dog? Where 'd 
 you get my Whistle?" the little man in- 
 quired pathetically. 
 
 Abe and Austin were too astonished to 
 answer; they were quite convinced now 
 that the man was crazy. Finally he re- 
 peated the question, and Abe replied : 
 
 "No, sir, this is not your dog; he is my 
 dog. I found him in the road with his leg 
 broken, and I fixed his leg and nursed 
 him till he got well. He's my dog, and no- 
 body can take him from me." 
 
 "Exactly, exactly," mumbled the little 
 man. "I know now Whistle was not killed. 
 I thought he was dead when I saw him at 
 the foot of the cliff with blood running 
 from his mouth, and I went away and 
 left him. I want him back ; he is my dog, ' ' 
 the old fellow whined. 
 
 "How did Honey get hurt?" 
 
 "Well," came the shamefaced answer, 
 
 I got mad at him because he wouldn't 
 
 a 
 
176 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 mind me, and I kicked him with my heavy 
 shoe and he rolled over the cliff, and when 
 I looked down I thought he was dead. 
 And I felt sorry for him, and went away 
 and left him there." 
 
 "Then there came into Abe's face a 
 terrifying expression,'' said Mr. Golla- 
 her. "It wasn't anger; it was righteous 
 wrath, I suppose ; I don't know how to de- 
 scribe it. But when Abe opened his 
 mouth and spoke, I knew there was fight 
 and defiance in every word. 
 
 " 'If you try to take Honey away from 
 me, I'll make him tear you up,' he said. 
 'I'll make him grab you by the throat. 
 Let's see you take him,' and there was a 
 blazing light in his eyes. 'I dare you to 
 try to put your hands on him ! Here he 
 is, take him! Why don't you take him? 
 You are a coward!' 
 
 "All the time Abe was speaking, Honey 
 was growling and gnashing his teeth. The 
 two warriors were defiant and ready for 
 battle. I was a little frightened, but it 
 
o g 
 
 a o 
 
 rt 8 
 
 ft 
 
HONEY'S OLD MASTER 177 
 
 tickled me to hear Abe talking that way, 
 because I had always wanted to see him 
 fight. 
 
 " 'Why,' Abe continued, 'what right 
 have you got to Honey ? You tried to kill 
 him; you kicked him and broke his leg 
 and left him bleeding to death. Look at 
 Honey's leg now, all twisted, because you 
 kicked him over the cliff. Why don't you 
 fall over a hill yourself, and break your 
 own leg ? Then you will know how Honey 
 felt. A dog suffers when he is hurt just 
 as much as a human. No, sir, you can't 
 get Honey ! He would rather die than go 
 with you, and I would rather die than let 
 him!' were Abe's parting words to 
 Honey's old master." 
 
 "Come on, Austin, let's go," said Abe, 
 and the boys retraced their steps toward 
 the Lincoln cabin. 
 
 "Look, Abe," cried Austin excitedly, 
 "that old man is following us, and he has 
 a big stick in his hand. " 
 
 "Let him follow," answered Abe, "fa- 
 
178 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 ther and Mr. Keith are at home and 
 they'll give him a thrashing if he fools 
 with them ; and anybody who treats a dog 
 like he treated Honey ought to have a 
 whipping. ' ' 
 
 The stranger followed close behind the 
 boys until they reached the cabin, where 
 with one voice they excitedly related their 
 adventure w r ith the dirty little man in the 
 woods. Mr. Lincoln, who happened to be 
 in the house, met the stranger and po- 
 litely asked what he could do for him. 
 
 "I want my dog Whistle," he said, and 
 there was a tone of demand in his voice. 
 
 "My friend," answered Mr. Lincoln, 
 "you can't have the dog; even if I should 
 consent I don't believe you could persuade 
 the dog to go with you. He would tear 
 you to pieces. Lie's trying to get at you 
 now. He very likely remembers your 
 cruel treatment." 
 
 "Well, sir," Mr. Gollaher commented, 
 "when Abe heard his father talking that 
 way his face fairly beamed." 
 
HONEY'S OLD MASTER 179 
 
 "I will have him," the little man cried 
 out, as he reached for a knife that hung 
 from his belt. 
 
 But Mr. Lincoln was too quick for him. 
 His arm shot out and the belligerent 
 stranger tumbled in a knot to the ground. 
 Then Mr. Lincoln lifted him up, and shak- 
 ing him, said: "I believe you are an es- 
 caped criminal. What are you doing 
 prowling around in this neighborhood?" 
 
 The dirty face whitened, and he began 
 to whine and beg. 
 
 "Let him go, father," Abe put in; "let 
 him get out of this neighborhood. ' ' 
 
 But Mr. Lincoln questioned him fur- 
 ther, believing that the man might be 
 wanted by the officers of the law. 
 
 "What is your right name?" asked Mr. 
 Keith who had heard the story and 
 watched the encounter. 
 
 " Rolling Stone," was the sarcastic 
 answer. 
 
 "Very well," answered Mr. Keith, 
 "we'll just roll Mr. Rolling Stone to 
 
180 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 Elizabetlitown and hold him in jail while 
 his past record is investigated. ' ' 
 
 And so they delivered the strange little 
 man to the jailer at Elizabethtown, who 
 held him until it was learned that he was a 
 harmless, half-witted rover, who never be- 
 fore had made trouble for any one. He 
 had sense enough, however, to stay away 
 from Abe and his dog, and never again to 
 visit the Knob Creek community. 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 ROBINSON CRUSOE 
 
 "What are you crying about, Abe?" 
 Austin asked sympathetically, when lie 
 found his playmate leaning against a tree 
 in the yard of the Lincoln home. 
 
 "I'm not crying, my eyes are just wa- 
 tering," Abe answered. 
 
 1 ' Did you get something in your eye ? ' ' 
 
 "No, Austin, I just feel bad; I feel 
 funny down where my heart is, something 
 keeps running up to my throat and chokes 
 me. I guess it's because mother talked to 
 me this morning; she was so good to me." 
 
 "What does she say to you, Abe, that 
 makes you feel bad?" inquired Austin. 
 
 "Well, you see, mother talks a lot about 
 what will become of me when she goes to 
 the other world. She's trying to tell me 
 181 
 
182 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 what to do, and how to get along when she 
 is not here any more. She never feels 
 well, and I believe she thinks the angels 
 are going to come after her soon and take 
 her to God. She tells me things she wants 
 me to do ; she wants me to be kind to ev- 
 erybody — to father and to sister ; and she 
 wants me to try to learn something from 
 books, so that I can either preach or teach 
 school." The tears were now trickling 
 down Abe's cheeks, and he was sobbing as 
 if his heart was broken; he did not at- 
 tempt further to conceal his tears from 
 Austin, for by this time he, too, was 
 weeping. 
 
 "I have forgiven that preacher who 
 went away with my cap, because mother 
 said she didn't believe he aimed to steal 
 it," said Abe, as he wiped the tears from 
 his eyes with his sleeves. "And you re- 
 member one day when he was preaching 
 he said that every boy he ever knew who 
 loved his mother and did what she told 
 him to do, never had any trouble getting 
 
ROBINSON CRUSOE 183 
 
 along in the world ; well, I believe he told 
 the truth. I am going to try to do what I 
 think mother wants me to do. She's the 
 best friend I have and she's good to me, 
 and if she should leave me I reckon I'd 
 never be much account, because I would 
 always be thinking about her, and 
 wouldn't have time to study my lessons." 
 "I know one thing," said Austin, his 
 tear-stained eyes snapping, "a boy's 
 mother's better to him than anybody else ; 
 she 's a heap better to him than his father, 
 and when she whips him, she whips him 
 easy, and when he cries she stops. Some- 
 times when a boy cries, and tells his fa- 
 ther he 's hurting, he won 't stop. You re- 
 member the time father whipped me for 
 talking back to old man Evans, don't you? 
 Well, there were marks around my legs 
 for two or three days, and when mother 
 saw the marks she called father and told 
 him that he mustn't whip me that way any 
 more. And she told him, too, that old man 
 Evans was a scamp, and that I oughtn't 
 
184 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 to have been whipped so hard on his ac- 
 count, anyhow." 
 
 Abe agreed fully with everything Aus- 
 tin said about mothers, adding: " Mother 
 never did whip me ; she has just spanked 
 me a few times for being slow in bringing 
 water from the spring. And I'll tell you 
 what," he continued, "I just can't move 
 along fast like some boys, because I see so 
 many little foolish things that just seem 
 to make me stop; and I can't help it to 
 save my life. Why, not long ago, when I 
 went to the spring I saw a big cow snake 
 hanging to a limb of a tree ; he was almost 
 covered with leaves and was trying his best 
 to get to a nest of little young birds. Well, 
 I had to get him out of the tree, and I 
 threw at him until my arm was tired be- 
 fore I killed him. But when I told mother 
 what I had been doing, she said it was all 
 right, and patted me on the head, and told 
 me to take all the time I needed to kill 
 snakes and save the lives of birds. Now, 
 you see," continued Abe, "father 
 
ROBINSON CRUSOE 185 
 
 wouldn't have done that way, because I 
 reckon he wouldn't have cared if the 
 snake got the birds. Mother said one time 
 she made father turn a lot of turkeys 
 loose, because he had caught too many of 
 them. But that was when they were 
 sweethearts, and father would then do 
 anything she told him to, because he was 
 afraid some other man would come along 
 and be better to her and take her away 
 from him. ' ' 
 
 The boys had both forgotten their sor- 
 rows by this time and Austin said : 
 
 " Let's take the billy-goat down to the 
 creek and wash him with some lye soap." 
 
 "He won't let us wash him," replied 
 Abe emphatically. ' ' I tried to put him in 
 the water yesterday, and he just tucked 
 his head down, shoved it against me and 
 pushed me up the hill. He won't go about 
 water. I reckon it's a goat's nature to be 
 like that, and you know Mr. John says 
 it's mighty hard to change, to change — 
 what you call it? — to change from the 
 
186 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 way we are to something else. He says 
 that's the reason I can't move any faster 
 than I do." 
 
 "Then," said Austin, "let's get Honey 
 and go down to the Nice Stone and watch 
 the squirrels. But we won't get on top of 
 the stone, because yesterday when I was 
 down there it looked to me like one of 
 those big rocks was about ready to fall." 
 
 "All right," assented Abe, "but did you 
 know they, saw some bear tracks in the 
 mud up there by Mr. Enlow's place 
 yesterday?" 
 
 "Yes," Austin grinned, "but bears 
 won't bother you if you leave them alone; 
 and besides, if one should try to get us I 
 could shoot him. I cleaned my gun good 
 this morning, and put a lot of powder in 
 the load, and I believe I could hit a bear 
 square between the eyes." 
 
 Abe blew his whistle for Honey, but the 
 dog came rather slowly. 
 
 "He's afraid I'm going to give him 
 back to his old master." 
 
ROBINSON CRUSOE 187 
 
 " Don't get close to the Nice Stone, 
 Abe," warned Austin, "just look how 
 loose that big rock looks." 
 
 "Honey, go find a squirrel," com- 
 manded Abe, but Honey was not anxious 
 to go alone into the woods, and Abe had 
 to talk to him, assuring him that all was 
 well, and that he need not fear he would 
 ever again fall into the hands of the man 
 who had treated him so cruelly. Finally 
 Honey went, reluctantly, but in a few mo- 
 ments came bouncing back, barking and 
 full of excitement. 
 
 1 l Whenever Honey acts that way, ' ' said 
 Abe, "there's something he sees or hears 
 that he ain't used to. It might be that 
 bear ; so let's go back to the house and tell 
 the folks about it." 
 
 Abe was right so many times about such 
 matters that Austin readily agreed to fol- 
 low his suggestion, and the two ran to the 
 house and told of Honey's queer actions. 
 
 Jonathan Keith consented to go back 
 with the boys to see if Honey had dis- 
 
188 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 covered something unusual. About one 
 half mile from the Nice Stone they found 
 a man and woman camped on a knoll. 
 The strangers greeted them with cordial 
 salutations, and informed them that they 
 were traveling toward Indiana, where 
 they intended to reside. A quilt was 
 spread upon the grass and on the quilt 
 were two or three books. Abe's eyes fell 
 upon them and his curiosity getting the 
 better of him, he asked whether one of the 
 books was named Robinson Crusoe. 
 
 The woman laughed and answered: 
 "No, thev are readers, and we are school- 
 
 7 */ 7 
 
 teachers. We are going to Indiana to 
 teach." 
 
 "Why don't you stay here and teach 
 school?" quickly asked Abe. 
 
 ' ' Because, ' ' answered the woman 
 kindly, ' ' the community is not thickly set- 
 tled, and we are afraid we could not get 
 enough children in the school to pay us, 
 my boy. ' ' 
 
 "Well," said Abe assuringly, "I'd go 
 
ROBINSON CRUSOE 189 
 
 to school to you, and would do anything 
 you wanted me to do." 
 
 "Do you want to learn to read and 
 write^' the woman asked. 
 
 "I can already read, and can write a 
 little bit," answered Abe. "I can spell 
 hen and cat, and dog and fox, mill, horse, 
 squirrel and some other words." 
 
 ' ' That 's fine, ' ' said the woman. ' 6 Now, 
 let me hear you spell squirrel." 
 
 " S-q-u-r-i-1, " responded Abe hurriedly. 
 
 "You nearly had it right ; try again and 
 go slowly," she said. 
 
 Abe studied for a moment, and then 
 very slowly felt his way, spelling: 
 "S-q-u-i-r-r-e-1." 
 
 "That is fine, my boy; I would like to 
 have you for one of my children; you'd 
 learn quickly." 
 
 "Please stay here," pleaded Abe, "I 
 want to learn to read and write. Did you 
 ever hear of a book called R. Crusoe? 
 About a man on an island, who was good 
 to a black man he called Friday?" 
 
190 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 " Indeed, I have," the woman an- 
 swered, smiling, "I have it over there in 
 that sack. Do you want to see it?" she 
 asked. 
 
 Abe in his excitement, commenced to 
 untie the sack, but soon remembered him- 
 self, and very much embarrassed, asked 
 the woman to forgive him. She grabbed 
 him and hugged him, then untied the sack 
 and brought forth the copy of Robinson 
 Crusoe. 
 
 "Well, sir," said Mr. Gollaher, taking 
 up the narrative, "I see that boy's happy 
 face right now; I do believe it was the 
 first time I ever saw Abe so completely 
 happy." 
 
 "Come and go home with us," begged 
 Abe. "I want you to see my mother. We 
 live right over there; it won't take you 
 long. Come and stay a week and read 
 that book to me, and some day I will pay 
 you back," he said, looking pleadingly 
 into the smiling face of the woman. 
 
 The man and woman accepted Abe's in- 
 
ROBINSON CRUSOE 191 
 
 vitation, and, after strapping their be- 
 longings to the back of their horse, the 
 boys and their new friends repaired to 
 the home of Thomas Lincoln. They in- 
 troduced themselves as Mr. and Mrs. 
 Dawson, and Mrs. Lincoln gave them a 
 most cordial welcome, saying she would 
 be glad to keep them for an indefinite 
 visit if she had the room. 
 
 " Mother," pleaded Abe, " can't we keep 
 them long enough for Mrs. Dawson to read 
 Robinson Crusoe to me? Let them sleep 
 in the loft, and I will sleep in the stable ; 
 the fodder makes a fine, bed." 
 
 "My son, I would be glad to do this for 
 you if we had some way to make Mr. and 
 Mrs. Dawson comfortable," said Mrs. 
 Lincoln. 
 
 "Then I'll tell you what we can do," ex- 
 claimed Abe, pointing his long forefinger 
 toward the west. "You all can stay at 
 Mr. Hodgen's. He and his mother have a 
 big house, and there will be plenty of room 
 there for all of us. I'll go over with you 
 
192 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 and tell Mrs. Hodgen that I want you to 
 stay and she will let you, and be mighty 
 glad, too. Now, mother, can't I go with 
 them to Mrs. Hodgen 's?" the boy begged 
 fervently. 
 
 But Mr. and Mrs. Dawson insisted that 
 they must proceed with their journey, 
 that they did not feel that they could lose 
 the time, even if Mr. Hodgen and his 
 mother should endorse the invitation Abe 
 had given. 
 
 "But that lad was persistent," said Mr. 
 Gollaher, "and the Dawsons finally 
 agreed to spend the night with the Hod- 
 gens if agreeable to them. So, with his 
 mother's consent, Abe went with the 
 strangers to make the introductions." 
 
 Mrs. Hodgen met them with open arms 
 and joined with Abe in an effort to get 
 the teachers to locate permanently in that 
 community, but they were firm in their 
 decision to settle in Indiana. However, 
 they did agree to spend a few days with 
 Mr. and Mrs. Hodgen. 
 
Knob Creek still has its foot-logs and the children of the hills 
 play there to-day as they played more than a hundred years ago 
 
ROBINSON CRUSOE 193 
 
 Abe, of course, was invited to remain 
 in the Hodgen home as long as the teach- 
 ers would stay, and his mother gave her 
 permission. 
 
 "Mrs. Dawson read Eohinson Crusoe to 
 him, and when I saw him several days 
 later, he was feeling mighty good over his 
 education," said Mr. Gollaher. "I 
 thought maybe he would get in the habit 
 of feeling happy and would smile oftener, 
 but he didn't," continued Mr. Gollaher. 
 "I'll tell you that boy worried me a lot be- 
 cause he looked sad all the time. The only 
 way you could tell he was feeling good 
 was when he moved around quicker or 
 talked more than usual. But he didn't 
 cry any more about his mother for sev- 
 eral days, then all at once he grew sad 
 again, and I couldn't get him out in the 
 woods to play. So, finally, one day I 
 thought I'd talk a little rough, and I said, 
 ' Abe, you haven't got any sense ; you just 
 hang around the house and act like some- 
 body's dead, and if you don't get out of 
 
194 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 that way of doing I am going to get some 
 other boy to play with me.' Well, sir, 
 don't you know that kind of made Abe 
 think a little bit and he never again had 
 one of those prolonged spells of depres- 
 sion." 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 SARAH 's SWING 
 
 When Jonathan Keith completed the 
 grape-vine swing for Sarah Lincoln, it 
 was the nicest and best swing of that kind 
 in the whole country, and there were 
 many grape-vine swings scattered 
 through the hills, too. Mr. Lincoln, who 
 was something of a carpenter, made the 
 box seat, and Mrs. Lincoln did some up- 
 holstering with a sheepskin. The grape- 
 vines were securely looped around the 
 box, and Mr. Keith smoothed and notched 
 a big limb, growing high up on an oak 
 tree which sheltered much of the Lincoln 
 yard, and then over the smoothly-notched 
 limb the vines were fastened, and Sarah's 
 swing was complete. 
 
 All was ready for "the trip to the 
 195 
 
196 THE BOYHOOD OP LINCOLN 
 
 moon," that Mr. Keith had been promis- 
 ing her, and Abe and Austin watched the 
 proceedings with interest. They were 
 anxious to be asked to take one of those de- 
 lightful trips, but Sarah not even hinted 
 at such a thing. 
 
 "I reckon we will have to build a swing 
 of our own down on Knob Creek," said 
 Austin. 
 
 "You boys may swing when Sarah is 
 tired or when she has something else to 
 do," said Mr. Lincoln, "but when she 
 wants to make her trips to the moon, you 
 two must wait. Do you understand ? ' ' 
 
 "Yes, sir," answered both boys. 
 
 "We are going to make us a swing down 
 on the creek," announced Austin. "It's 
 lots nicer down there anyhow, and Abe 
 and I can have more fun by ourselves." 
 
 "Very well," said Mr. Lincoln. "Get 
 the vines and I will make the box." 
 
 Sarah kept the swing going sometimes 
 until she got dizzy-headed, and then her 
 mother would forbid her to swing until 
 
SARAH'S SWING 197 
 
 she felt better. It was thus through 
 Sarah's misfortune that Abe and Austin 
 were now and then given a chance to use 
 that popular vehicle. 
 
 " Austin, I like to swing," shouted Abe, 
 as Austin gave to him the needed shove. 
 "I like it because something funny comes 
 in my breast that takes that heavy feeling 
 out." 
 
 "I like it too," said Austin, " because it 
 makes me feel like I'm flying. Next sum- 
 mer we will build a good one down there 
 by the Nice Stone, and then we can swing 
 as long as we want to. ' ' 
 
 " Sarah will get tired after a while and 
 then we can use this one," answered Abe. 
 
 But Sarah did not get tired, though she 
 quit swinging because a very unusual and 
 frightful thing occurred that made her 
 afraid to go near the swing for a long 
 time. 
 
 The little girl had climbed into the box 
 seat, and had given a strong pull on the 
 " starting vine," which was attached to a 
 
198 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 small tree near by, when, with a frightful 
 scream, she jumped from the box and fell 
 to the ground. Abe lifted Sarah into his 
 strong arms and held her close to his 
 breast, while Austin ran for Mrs. Lincoln. 
 Finally, Sarah opened her eyes and 
 pointed toward the swing, screaming 
 frantically. 
 
 "Oome here, Abe," shouted Austin, as 
 Mrs. Lincoln bathed her little girl's head. 
 "That's it; there's what scared her." 
 
 In the bottom of the box seat was a huge 
 cow snake, coiled up and blinking lazily 
 in the autumn sun. 
 
 "Well, I'll fix him," said Austin, who 
 frequently bragged about being a snake- 
 charmer, and with that he reached into 
 the box, lifted the ugly reptile out and 
 dropped it on the ground. "Let's drag 
 him out there in the field and let Honey 
 kill him." 
 
 But it wasn't quite so easy as they 
 thought, and Honey had the tussel of his 
 life. 
 
SARAH'S SWING 199 
 
 It was many a day before Sarah would 
 go near the swing, so Abe and Austin used 
 it to their hearts' content. 
 
 "Now, Austin," said Abe, "do you 
 reckon anybody would ever accuse us of 
 putting the snake there?" 
 
 "I would hate to think I was that mean, 
 wouldn't you?" asked Austin. 
 
 "I don't see how some people sleep at 
 night," continued Abe; "it looks to me 
 like the mean things they do during the 
 day would make such a noise in their ears 
 that they would stay awake all night. 
 "Whenever I do something that ain't just 
 right, I can't go to sleep for a long time, 
 because there is a funny noise in my ears 
 ■ — something seems to ask: 'Why'd you 
 do that, Abe % Why 'd you do that V " 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 STEALING TIME 
 
 In an abundant corn-crop there was 
 ease of mind and a winter's happiness for 
 the pioneer. If he had more than enough 
 to meet the needs of his family he was 
 ready with a helping hand for friend or 
 neighbor, who had been less fortunate. 
 
 When the children were old enough to 
 toddle, they were taught that their inter- 
 est in the corn-field was as great as that 
 of the oldest member of the family. They 
 learned early in life that the corn-crop 
 was not being cultivated for the markets, 
 or for the love of money, but for the neces- 
 sity of the cabin home. They were taught 
 to work and were impressed with the be- 
 lief that the harder the lick, the bigger the 
 corncake would be. 
 
 200 
 
STEALING TIME 201 
 
 "Abe, you and Austin have done 
 mighty good with those four rows of 
 corn," said Austin's father, "and I think 
 we'll have to give you extra rations for 
 supper. I am not a bit sorry," he contin- 
 ued, "that Tom Lincoln and I are going 
 halvers on that patch of corn. It appears 
 to me, Austin, that you work better when 
 Abe is with you. I reckon you did two 
 rows each, didn't you?" asked Mr. 
 Gollaher. 
 
 Austin's head dropped. 
 
 "Out with it, Austin; how many rows 
 did you do? Tell the truth," his father 
 commanded. 
 
 "One," replied Austin. 
 
 "What made you work so slow?" asked 
 Mr. Gollaher. "You are quicker than 
 Abe when it comes to play, and in every- 
 thing else where getting about is required. 
 Why did you let Abe do three rows to 
 your one?" 
 
 "I've been feeling bad in my side, fa- 
 ther, ever since the day I fell out of the 
 
202 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 tree, and it hurts me to stoop," Austin 
 explained. 
 
 "But you've been doing lots of running 
 around since then. I think I'll have to 
 punish you," Mr. Gollaher announced 
 menacingly as if the punishment was go- 
 ing to be severe. "Now, I'll tell you what 
 you will have to do, Austin," he went on. 
 "You'll have to catch up with Abe. So, 
 to-morrow morning you'll go to work be- 
 fore sunup and stick to it till it gets dark. 
 You see, son, Abe's pappy and I are part- 
 ners in that patch of corn, and it wouldn't 
 be fair to let Abe do so much more of the 
 work than you do." 
 
 "I'll get up, too, and help him, Mr. Gol- 
 laher," said Abe eagerly. 
 
 "But I can't let you do that, Abe ; Aus- 
 tin must do his part. Can't you see, boys, 
 that it wouldn't be fair for either one of 
 you to do more than the other, because, as 
 I explained, Mr. Lincoln and I are part- 
 ners in the patch, and each has agreed to 
 do his share of work." 
 
STEALING TIME 203 
 
 There was no complaint from either boy 
 over the form of Austin's punishment, 
 each, perhaps, feeling the justice of it; 
 but Abe was full of sadness. Austin was 
 out early the next morning and worked 
 hard and late to catch up with Abe, and 
 Abe was there just a little earlier than 
 usual, hopeful that he might find some 
 way to help his unfortunate comrade. 
 
 "Austin," said Abe, as they were hoe- 
 ing the next day, "they say crows can 
 talk if you catch them when they are 
 young and teach them, and that they'll 
 follow you around like a pet chicken. Do 
 you reckon we could catch one ?" he asked. 
 
 "We can set a trap here in the corn and 
 try," replied Austin. 
 
 After several unsuccessful attempts 
 they captured a young crow, and Abe 
 clipped its wings and kept it tied up until 
 he had tamed it. He fed and petted it and 
 tried in many ways to teach it to talk, but 
 the crow didn't quite understand and re- 
 fused to abandon his native "caw." 
 
204 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 "It looks at me with its head turned to 
 one side like it wants to talk, but it won't 
 say a word," Abe declared, "and I don't 
 believe a crow can talk unless its tongue is 
 split like your mother said, and I 
 wouldn't want to do that." 
 
 Abe 's pets now numbered four : Honey, 
 the crow, the goat and a pet coon. When 
 he played around his home all four were 
 with him, but when he went into the woods 
 Honey only accompanied him. The coon 
 gave him much trouble, and Abe wasn't 
 so fond of him as he was of the crow or the 
 goat. In fact the coon had tried to run 
 away several times, but Honey always 
 rounded him up and brought him back. 
 
 A few days later Mr. Gollaher made an- 
 other tour of inspection. 
 
 "I have caught up," said Austin, full 
 of enthusiasm when his father appeared. 
 
 Mr. Gollaher counted the rows and then 
 did a little problem in mental arithmetic. 
 
 "Hold on a minute," he said; and 
 he counted the rows again. 
 
STEALING TIME 205 
 
 Abe looked at Austin, and Austin 
 looked at Abe. 
 
 Finally Mr. Gollaher said: "Abe, you 
 have done only six rows in three days, 
 The first day you did three of them. It 
 looks to me like you have been fooling 
 away your time so Austin could catch up 
 with you. That won't do, boys," he con- 
 tinued, "that's not right. I am going over 
 to Hodgen's Mill to-morrow, Abe, and I 
 am going to ask your pappy to let you go 
 along with me. Then Austin can catch up 
 with you in the right way. You boys 
 haven't been honest with me, but I don't 
 believe Abe should be punished because he 
 got into trouble out of the goodness of his 
 heart." 
 
 ' ' What do you mean by we haven 't been 
 honest, Mr. Gollaher?" asked Abe, "does 
 it mean stealing?" 
 
 "It's this way, Abe," explained Mr. 
 Gollaher. "When the preacher went, 
 away with your cap he was dishonest ; ha 
 stole the cap," 
 
206 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 "Well," said Abe, "I didn't mean to 
 steal anything from you and father when 
 I worked slow to let Austin catch up with 
 me, and I'm mighty sorry. But was it 
 sure-enough stealing, Mr. Gollaher?" 
 
 "Yes, Abe; you and Austin were steal- 
 ing time from your pappy and me, and, 
 when stolen from people for whom you 
 are working, time is just the same as 
 money, or pelts, or caps." 
 
 Austin Gollaher, the man, said that he 
 never forgot that lesson in honesty, and 
 from that time on he never again failed to 
 give his employer a full day's labor for a 
 full day's pay. 
 
 "Austin," said Abe, "I asked Mr. Hod- 
 gen if stealing time made us thieves, and 
 he said it wasn't exactly stealing, but if 
 we kept on cheating that way we might 
 soon come to stealing. I asked him how 
 we could pay back what we took, and he 
 said by working a little harder, or by do- 
 ing something extra. So, let's don't go 
 with them fishing to-morrow; let's stay 
 
STEALING TIME 207 
 
 right here in the corn patch and pay them 
 a day's work." 
 
 "Ill do it," assented Austin. 
 
 And in that way, Abe and Austin 
 squared the account. 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 
 AUSTIN AND THE COON 
 
 When the Hodgens built the four- 
 room, two-story house, shortly after the 
 death of Robert Hodgen in 1810, they 
 made the rooms large so there would be 
 no lack of space when visitors came that 
 way; and subsequent events proved they 
 were right since little bands of travelers 
 were constantly asking favors of them, — 
 a few meals and shelter for a night or two. 
 Many who stopped temporarily were per- 
 suaded to remain permanently, and so the 
 Hodgens' big house helped very materi- 
 ally to build up the community. 
 
 There was a great grove of hickory and 
 
 walnut trees almost directly in front of 
 
 the house, and through the grove a stream 
 
 of clear spring water trickled, upon 
 
 208 
 
AUSTIN AND THE COON 209 
 
 either side of which were long stretches of 
 orchard grass. This grove was one of the 
 playgrounds of Abraham Lincoln, and 
 when it was decided to build a schoolhouse 
 and church, he urged with childish fervor 
 that they be built in the grove. He was 
 greatly disappointed when another site 
 was chosen. 
 
 Since the removal of the Lincolns from 
 Cave Spring Farm, where Abraham was 
 born, to the farm close to that of the Gol- 
 lahers, Thomas Lincoln had grown more 
 thrifty, and took a great interest in prep- 
 aration for the winter. He cut wood 
 and stacked it; he patched the roof; he 
 fed his pigs, and looked closer to his sup- 
 ply of meal. He was an enthusiastic nut 
 gatherer, always had his pockets full of 
 walnuts — his favorite — and frequently 
 stopped his work to break the shells and 
 pick out the kernels. Every week in the 
 fall he was in the big grove with his sack 
 which he always brought home full. In 
 fact, he gathered so many nuts that he 
 
210 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 could not find storage room for them in 
 his small home, so he walled up a place 
 under a projecting rock on a hillside back 
 of his cabin, and there he put away many 
 bushels in the " Lincoln nut cliff," as it 
 was called by his neighbors. 
 
 "Austin," said Mr. Lincoln one even- 
 ing, "bring your sack over in the morn- 
 ing, and you and Abraham may go with 
 me to the grove after more nuts. Mr. 
 Keith has promised me the mule, and we 
 will bring back the sled well loaded." 
 
 While Austin was busy shaking nuts 
 from the top of a big tree a coon appeared 
 upon the scene, and at once showed fight. 
 The boy was so frightened that he 
 dropped, but luckily grabbed a limb as he 
 was falling and held to it for dear life. 
 Not realizing the cause of the commotion, 
 Mr. Lincoln cried out : 
 
 "What's the matter up there? Hold 
 tight, Austin ; don't lose your head ; if you 
 fall it will kill you. 'Coon' it to the 
 trunk!" 
 
AUSTIN AND THE COON 211 
 
 "I can't," screamed Austin. " Don't 
 you see that big coon in the hollow of the 
 tree ; he 's mad ; shoot quick or he '11 scratch 
 me to pieces." 
 
 Mr. Lincoln saw the trouble; the rifle 
 cracked, and an immense coon tumbled to 
 the ground. 
 
 " That's the biggest one I have ever 
 seen, and it's a mighty lucky thing for 
 you, my boy, that he did not get to you, ' ' 
 said Mr. Lincoln. "Why, that coon would 
 have torn your head off if he could have 
 got a square lick at you." 
 
 When Austin, who had lost no time get- 
 ting to the ground, had caught his breath, 
 he said to Abe : "Do you think it was all 
 right to kill the coon?" 
 
 "Yes, I think it was all right," Abe an- 
 swered. "I've always said it was right to 
 kill animals and varmints and things like 
 that when they want to fight." Then he 
 added, a twinkle in his eye: "I guess you 
 are worth more than the coon, even if they 
 can't make caps out of your skin." 
 
212 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 "Get away from that coon, Honey," 
 said Mr. Lincoln ; "his hide will go a long 
 ways toward making me a coat." 
 
 "But, father," said Abe, "ain't you go- 
 ing to give the coon to Austin ? He found 
 it." 
 
 "No, he didn't," replied Mr. Lincoln; 
 "the coon found Austin." 
 
CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 JUST TURNED AROUND 
 
 The sun was hanging low in the west ; 
 the hills were already steeped in shadows, 
 and night would soon fall upon field and 
 wood. Abraham Lincoln and Austin Gol- 
 laher were lost and facing a night in the 
 woods. The boys had been aimlessly wan- 
 dering for some time, each knowing they 
 were lost; neither mentioning it to the 
 other. They were hoping that something 
 would lead them aright, and that it 
 wouldn't be necessary for the one to 
 frighten the other by admitting the truth ; 
 but finally, realizing the seriousness of 
 the situation, they stopped and anxiously 
 scanned the chain of blue hills to the east, 
 and then looked at each other. 
 
 213 
 
214 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 "We are just turned around, not lost," 
 exclaimed Abe. 
 
 "I know it," said Austin, "but how are 
 we going to get turned around right?" 
 
 "Let's don't get scared, and let's think 
 about something," was Abe's very sensi- 
 ble suggestion. "Now," he said, "there 
 is no use to travel any farther toward the 
 hills. It seems like that's the way home, 
 but we didn't come over the hills to get 
 here, and we couldn't get home by going 
 that way." 
 
 "That's so," Austin agreed, "but it 
 seems to me if we go any other way we 
 won't be going home. It looks like I can 
 almost see our houses over there where 
 the hills are. We had no business trying 
 to come through the woods until we had 
 been through with our fathers. But we 
 aren't afraid," he added, "because we'll be 
 all right if it doesn't storm and — 
 thunder." 
 
 "If we could find Knob Creek we could 
 get home," remarked Abe reassuringly. 
 
JUST TURNED AROUND 215 
 
 "because there's no place along the creek 
 we haven't been. We'd be sure to know 
 which way to go, too, if we could see that 
 big tall tree that stands on the hill over 
 there by Mr. Dawson's house. We've got 
 to find something like that before we can 
 get out of here. Look for a path, Aus- 
 tin," advised Abe, "look good," and he 
 clapped his hands to emphasize his com- 
 mand, "and if we find one we'll follow 
 it — we'll follow it over that way," and he 
 pointed in the direction that seemed di- 
 rectly away from home. "Rabbits and 
 'possums and other animals," he said, 
 "make paths in going to Knob Creek for 
 water. I have heard father say that he'd 
 followed a narrow trail lots of times in 
 looking for water, and that he nearly al- 
 ways found it." 
 
 "The sun's about down," said Austin, 
 "and before we know it, it will be black 
 as pitch in here, and then we'll have to do 
 like the men do when they are lost and 
 night comes on." 
 
216 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 "What do they do?" Abe quickly 
 asked. 
 
 "They just stop right where they are 
 and stay there until daylight, because it 
 don't do any good to try to find your way 
 when you haven't got a trail to follow. 
 So, if we don't find something pretty soon 
 we'll stay where we are till morning. And 
 we must keep awake, too, and listen for 
 the blasts from the hunters' horn and look 
 for the torch-lights, because our fathers 
 are sure to be out looking for us. But 
 they won't be as scared as they were the 
 time you were lost in the cave, because 
 they know we are together. I wish your 
 mother and Sarah hadn't taken Honey 
 with them down to Mrs. Hodgen's. If 
 Honey were here he'd know the way 
 home." 
 
 But Abe had no intention of spending 
 the night in the woods if his acute mind 
 could find a way out, and he continued 
 his search for a path in the underbrush. 
 He examined closely every patch of 
 
JUST TURNED AROUND 217 
 
 briers, every clump of bushes, getting 
 down on his hands and knees in his eager- 
 ness to find a trail. 
 
 "Here it is!" he shouted, as the sun 
 dropped out of sight. And when Austin 
 joined him he saw running through the 
 woods and the briers a well-defined path. 
 The boys followed it at a gallop, scratch- 
 ing their hands and faces as they hurried 
 through the tall briers and tangled thick- 
 ets. Less than half a mile away they 
 found Knob Creek, and were greatly sur- 
 prised to discover themselves within a 
 stone's throw of their homes. 
 
 "Well," said Austin, "we were 'turned 
 around' right where, had we hollered loud 
 enough, they would have heard us. The 
 next time we'll cut notches in the trees. 
 Or we won't go any more unless we take 
 Honey with us. I reckon he's got more 
 sense than we have," he laughingly 
 concluded. 
 
 "It looked like the hills had moved to 
 another place, didn't it? — like they had 
 
218 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 just covered up Knob Creek," said Abe. 
 "We are late, and mother will be uneasy 
 about me, but when I tell her we were lost, 
 I reckon she'll be so glad we got home all 
 right that she won't scold me much. 
 
 " Whenever you're lost," Abe advised 
 Austin, as if he were much older, "just 
 try to think about what you are doing, 
 and don't get scared, and the most of the 
 time you will find your way back home. 
 That's the reason I want to learn how to 
 read ; the books tell you a lot of things — 
 they tell you how to keep out of trouble, 
 and if you do get in they show you how to 
 get out." 
 
CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 THE GHOST 
 
 Thomas Lincoln sat in front of his 
 backlog fire. He was picking kernels 
 from a heap of walnuts, and was hungrily 
 gulping them down. It was early in the 
 evening, but Mrs. Lincoln, Abe and Sarah 
 were in bed. The moon was shining 
 brightly and the first snow of the season 
 was falling. It was just the kind of night 
 to sit by a warm fire, eat walnuts and 
 dream, which Mr. Lincoln was doing in a 
 highly satisfactory manner. 
 
 Suddenly there was a rap on the door, 
 but before Mr. Lincoln had time to ex- 
 tend the settler's usual polite invitation, 
 "Come in," the latch-string was silently 
 lifted, and a "ghost" walked into the 
 room. The thing had upon its shoulders 
 219 
 
220 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 an ox head, and from its skeleton eyes 
 shone flickering flames of light. Its body 
 was robed in white, and about its should- 
 ers was a large white sheepskin. The 
 make-up of the creature was hideous; it 
 was so ghastly that Thomas Lincoln stood 
 there in the small room shivering and un- 
 decided what to do. 
 
 Abraham, who was not yet asleep, 
 crawled noiselessly from his trundle bed, 
 stole up behind the ghost and tipped the 
 skeleton-head of the ox to the floor and 
 disclosed a young woman who had but re- 
 cently moved into the community, and 
 who had a mania for playing pranks. 
 Though Mr. Lincoln earnestly impressed 
 on her the danger of amusing herself in 
 such fantastic ways, she continued to 
 frighten people until one evening she was 
 given a whipping by two boys who failed 
 to see the humor of her practical jokes. 
 
 "Were you afraid of the ghost?" asked 
 Austin the next day, when Abe related the 
 experience of the previous night. 
 
THE GHOST 221 
 
 "No, I wasn't," was the prompt reply, 
 "but I reckon I would have been if I 
 hadn't seen that old ox head over at her 
 house a few days before. I asked her 
 mother why they were keeping it, and she 
 said her daughter used it to scare people 
 with. 
 
 "But," continued Abe, smiling faintly; 
 "father didn't eat any more walnuts af- 
 ter the ghost came, and he told mother 
 that devilish girl kind o' made him ner- 
 vous. You see, father doesn't exactly be- 
 lieve in ghosts, but he says he has seen lots 
 of funny things in the woods at night, and 
 for that reason he doesn't like to be out 
 after dark. Once he was sure he saw an 
 Indian war-dance. I can just barely re- 
 member one night when we lived on Cave 
 Spring Farm, father came home nearly 
 scared to death. He told mother he saw a 
 giant riding a big lion through the woods, 
 and that the lion and the man actually 
 tore down the trees as they galloped and 
 roared through the timber. Mother put 
 
222 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 father to bed, and lie didn't get out for a 
 long time." 
 
 "Are you much afraid when it gets 
 dark?" asked Austin. 
 
 "Not much/' replied Abe, "because 
 Missus Sarah says the night is just like a 
 big room in her house that she keeps dark 
 during the day by putting something over 
 the window, and she asked me if I would 
 be afraid to go into that room while it was 
 dark, and when I told her I wouldn't she 
 said: 'Well, that dark room is just like 
 night, and if you are not afraid to go 
 where I have made it dark, I know you 
 are not afraid to go where God has made 
 it dark.' She said the world was God's 
 big house, and that when it got dark in the 
 world it was because God had put some- 
 thing over the window." 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 THE DISTRESS SIGNAL 
 
 The Christmas hunt one hundred years 
 or more ago was a big event among the 
 settlers. The hunting parties were usu- 
 ally made up of not more than eight or 
 ten neighbors who were closely identified 
 in a social way, and who loved that feat- 
 ure of the meet as much as they loved the 
 sport. 
 
 When the date was finally set, the bul- 
 lets molded and all preparations made, 
 the hunters met at a given time and place, 
 the routes were mapped out and the 
 " stands" selected, each receiving full in- 
 structions what to do if something un- 
 looked-for should happen. Then the men 
 and dogs went forth into the wilderness 
 to invade the hiding-places of the turkey, 
 223 
 
224 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 the deer and other game which was then 
 so plentiful in Kentucky. 
 
 The crack of the rifle was as music to 
 the ears of the backwoodsman, and when 
 he heard the faint muffled report of the 
 old-time rifle, over there on the hill or 
 down in the valley, he smiled and made a 
 mark upon a rock or a tree. Each hunter, 
 knowing the exact location of his com- 
 rades, kept an account of the number of 
 shots fired, when the report was within 
 reach of his acute and well-trained ears, 
 and he could tell within remarkable ac- 
 curacy how many pieces of game each 
 hunter had brought down during the day, 
 when all assembled late in the afternoon 
 to make the count, and relate their 
 experiences. 
 
 The aim of those hunters was unerring, 
 and when one heard the report of a rifle 
 it was safe to give the hunter credit for 
 another wild creature of the forest. It 
 was unusual to miss, and when for any 
 reason a wild shot was made, the hunter 
 
THE DISTRESS SIGNAL 225 
 
 was greatly chagrined, for he knew his 
 comrades of the hunt would " devil" him 
 when they met together at the close of the 
 day. 
 
 The hunters had signals which were 
 obeyed implicitly. The hunter 's horn was 
 law. It was the call to duty, and every 
 man obeyed it. There was to be no wait- 
 ing, not for a moment, when that blast 
 was sounded. It was considered of such 
 importance that there was a standing ad- 
 monition that ran something like this: 
 "If the game is there and the gun is 
 raised, and you hear a blast, don't shoot 
 until you have obeyed the law of the 
 horn." 
 
 One short blast of the horn called a cer- 
 tain pioneer, two blasts called another, 
 and so on, each having a number. One 
 long blast was the distress signal, and all 
 who heard it went to the comrade that 
 made it in all haste. 
 
 "Abe didn't enjoy these annual hunts," 
 said Mr. Gollaher, "and when he was very 
 
226 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 young, shortly after the Lincolns moved 
 here, he expressed himself to me — with 
 that mild convincing look upon his face 
 that always made me feel queer — as being 
 ' against killing things in the woods that 
 don't bother you.' Only once did he take 
 part in an expedition. 
 
 "I shall never forget that day," con- 
 tinued Mr. Gollaher ; "I thought Abe was 
 the strangest lad in the world, and I guess 
 he was. When he heard the report of a 
 rifle he had a way of doubling up his 
 fists, drawing his face and shrugging his 
 shoulders that was most peculiar. He 
 was actually beside himself with nervous- 
 ness and seemed extremely uncomfort- 
 able. Once he whispered to me: 'I hope 
 they won't hit anything. If I could tell 
 the turkeys and deer that the men are 
 watching for them, I'd do it, so they could 
 go into the caves and stay there till the 
 hunt is over. ' 
 
 "Upon this occasion Abe and I were 
 permitted to take a stand with Mr. Hod- 
 
THE DISTRESS SIGNAL 227 
 
 gen. We were stationed close to a small 
 spring which ran out of a rock at the foot 
 of a hill. Yonder 's the hill, right over 
 there to the east — the one with the dead 
 trees at the top," said the venerable Mr. 
 Gollaher, with a wave of his hand. 
 "Right at the foot of that hill we had our 
 stand — Mr. Hodgen, Abe and I. That's 
 the hill, and that big flat-top rock was 
 there then as now. A clump of bushes 
 and saplings were just in front of the 
 rock, making a good hiding-place for the 
 hunter. 
 
 "There had been many rifle reports 
 during the morning and afternoon, and 
 Mr. Hodgen had been kept pretty busy 
 making marks on the rock. Abe had 
 learned to count and had figured up the 
 number of 'poor things,' as he called 
 them, that had been killed. He asked Mr. 
 Hodgen if he believed that every time a 
 gun cracked something had been shot, and 
 when the question was answered in the 
 affirmative, Abe replied in his simple 
 
228 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 wonderful way: 'It's mighty bad! It 
 ain't right!' 
 
 "Mr. Hodgen's hunting horn was lying 
 on the rock, close to the marks he had 
 scratched, the marks Abe had been scan- 
 ning — earnestly and sorrowfully from the 
 moment the first one was made early in 
 the morning until some time in the after- 
 noon — when he himself brought that 
 day's hunt abruptly to a close. 
 
 "The weather was wonderfully mild 
 for that time of the year, we didn't even 
 have to move about to keep our feet warm. 
 Abe and I, standing just behind the rock, 
 had our pockets full of walnuts and sweet 
 cakes. And I at least was having a pretty 
 good time watching for game and listen- 
 ing to the sound of the guns. Suddenly 
 Mr. Hodgen crouched low behind the 
 rock. His keen ears had caught the faint 
 noise of an animal gliding through the 
 forest on the opposite side of Knob Creek. 
 I, too, had heard the sound. 
 
 " 'There it is!' cried Abe. And there, 
 
THE DISTRESS SIGNAL 229 
 
 not more than one hundred and fifty feet 
 away, with its head high, stood a fawn. 
 Mr. Hodgen did not see it immediately, 
 and before he could shoot Abe grabbed the 
 horn and blew the distress signal. Of 
 course the fawn skipped away and was in- 
 stantly lost in the deep dark woods on the 
 other side of the creek. 
 
 "Well, sir," continued Mr. Gollaher, 
 "I was mad enough to jump on Abe and 
 give him a good licking, and I fully ex- 
 pected Mr. Hodgen to box his jaws, but 
 he didn't, he just said, 'Why, Abraham!' 
 Abe made no reply; he just stood there 
 gazing across the creek to where the fawn 
 had stood a moment before. 
 
 "I knew, of course, Abe was in for it; 
 I wouldn't have been in his breeches for 
 anything I knew of at that time ; but after 
 I got in a good humor I felt sorry for him 
 and didn't want to see him whipped. I'll 
 tell you, Abe had me conjured. 
 
 "That signal meant that all the hunters 
 who heard it would leave their ' stands' at 
 
230 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 once in answer to the call. Abe seemed 
 very much unconcerned, except that he 
 was sorry to displease Mr. Hodgen, and 
 told him so, but added that he was glad he 
 saved the life of the little fawn. 
 
 4 'Mr. Lincoln's ' stand' was the nearest 
 to ours, so I knew he would be there in a 
 few minutes. I felt sure Mr. Hodgen 
 would think Abe deserved a good whip- 
 ping, and was therefore greatly surprised 
 when he said : 'Now, Abraham, we've got 
 to do something to save you. Tour father 
 will give you a whipping, and I don't 
 want him to do that, because I know just 
 how you feel about the matter. If you 
 had only asked me not to take the life of 
 the fawn you would have saved yourself 
 all this trouble, for I was not anxious my- 
 self to shoot the little thing. ' 
 
 " 'Just let father whip me,' said Abe in 
 his matter-of-fact way: 'he won't kill me, 
 I reckon, and if I hadn't blown the horn 
 you would have killed the fawn; you 
 couldn't have kept from shooting it.' 
 
THE DISTRESS SIGNAL 231 
 
 " 'What shall I tell your father when 
 he comes, Abe'? What shall I tell him'?' 
 
 " 'Tell him I did it. Tell him I blew 
 the horn to save the life of the fawn, ' was 
 Abe's decisive answer. 'He can whip me 
 all he wants to and I won't cry.' 
 
 " 'No,' said Mr. Hodgen, 'I am going to 
 try to save you. ' 
 
 "In a few moments Mr. Lincoln came 
 tearing breathlessly through the brush. 
 
 " 'What's wrong?' he cried. 
 
 " 'Oh, nothing much,' Mr. Hodgen re- 
 plied, 'Abraham just unthoughtedly blew 
 the horn a little louder than he intended. 
 It's about time we were all assembling 
 anyhow, and it didn't really make much 
 difference,' he added indifferently. 
 
 " 'That was a very bad thing to do, 
 Abraham, and I will have to whip you 
 when we get home,' announced Mr. 
 Lincoln. 
 
 " 'Tom,' pleaded Mr. Hodgen, 'just a 
 light one this time. Abraham will never 
 do it again.' 
 
232 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 " 'I know I won't, because I am not go- 
 ing out with you all again/ and then he 
 let the cat out of the bag by saying: 'I 
 just couldn't stand to see Mr. Hodgen 
 shoot that little deer.' " 
 
 "When the full story came out Mr. Lin- 
 coln proposed to whip Abe then and there, 
 but Mr. Hodgen protested, saying that 
 such punishment should take place in the 
 home, not in the open air before others; 
 that it was too much like a public 
 whipping. 
 
 "Well, did your father whip you very 
 hard?" Austin asked the next day. 
 
 "Yes, he did, and he was mad because I 
 didn't cry. The whipping didn't hurt 
 much," bragged Abe, "I think God must 
 have kept it from hurting — kept it from 
 hurting much, because I saved the life of 
 the little deer. 
 
 "Don't you know, Austin," Abe con- 
 tinued seriously, "God might think as 
 much of that little fawn as He does of 
 some people, and He might not want it 
 
THE DISTRESS SIGNAL 233 
 
 killed. How can we be sure that He 
 doesn't want it to grow up? You know, 
 big deers kill snakes — paw them to death , 
 and when that little fawn grows up big 
 and strong, he may kill a poisonous snake 
 that might have bitten a man or woman or 
 child and killed them. How do we know 
 that God didn't make me blow that horn 
 yesterday?" 
 
 "Well, sir," said Mr. Gollaher, "that 
 was sound argument, and convinced me 
 Abe had acted entirely within his rights. 
 He always convinced me when he thought 
 it worth while. He was a philosopher — a 
 reasoner — smarter than anybody." 
 
CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 THE KING'S LITTLE BOY 
 
 "Mothek wants Austin to come to see 
 Abraham," cried Sarah Lincoln as she 
 entered the Gollaher cabin. 
 
 "My child/' said Mrs. Gollaher, " Aus- 
 tin can't go; he was bitten on the foot b}^ 
 a poisonous snake about an hour ago, and 
 we have been applying chicken fat to the 
 wound ever since to draw out the poison. 
 Austin insists it was a harmless water 
 snake, not a rattler, but his leg is might- 
 ily swollen and we are uneasy about him. " 
 
 "Well, I'll declare!" exclaimed Sarah, 
 "it's mighty funny. Abraham cut his 
 big toe with the ax about the same time 
 the snake bit Austin, and we couldn't get 
 it to stop bleeding until mother went out 
 
 234 
 
THE KING'S LITTLE BOY 235 
 
 to the stable and got a lot of spider-webs 
 and covered the cut with them. ' ' 
 
 In the afternoon the swelling had left 
 Austin's leg, and he announced: "I'm 
 going over to see Abe, and tell him to get 
 his pappy to chew up a lot of tobacco and 
 put on the cut place and it will be well by 
 morning. ' ' 
 
 When he reached the cabin Abe greeted 
 him with: "Why didn't you kill the 
 snake, Austin?" 
 
 "He got away from me," Austin ad- 
 mitted. "He crawled into a hole in the 
 bank of the creek. I thought he was 
 asleep, and just for fun I tried to grab 
 him back of the head with my toes, — and 
 he wasn't asleep. His head shot out and 
 he bit me. That's what made father think 
 it was a rattler ; they snap that way. But 
 water snakes do too when they're feeling 
 good. How's your toe?" 
 
 "It's getting all right since mother put 
 cobwebs on it." 
 
 "You'd better have somebody chew up 
 
236 THE BOYHOOD OP LINCOLN 
 
 some tobacco and put that on it; it'll heal 
 in a hurry then," advised Austin. 
 
 "It's too bad," Austin went on; "we 
 were going to the mill to-day, and Mr. 
 John will wonder why we didn't come, 
 unless some of the folks go and tell him 
 what has happened." 
 
 "It might have been a heap worse for 
 us if we had gone to the mill. Something 
 might have happened to us going or com- 
 ing. You can't tell. But I'll be mighty 
 glad," Abe continued seriously, "when I 
 get old enough to wear shoes the year 
 round — old enough and make money to 
 wear shoes in the summer time." 
 
 "You may never get old enough to do 
 that, Abe," said Austin discouragingly. 
 "There are lots of old men and women 
 around here that go barefooted the year 
 round, and I reckon we would have if the 
 old man who works for Mr. Hodgen 
 hadn't made the shoes for us last winter. 
 You ought to be glad you didn't have your 
 shoes on when you cut your foot; your 
 
THE KING'S LITTLE BOY 237 
 
 toe will heal up, but the shoe would have 
 been ruined." 
 
 Abe smiled at this and asked Austin if 
 he'd like to hear a story about a king's lit- 
 tie boy in a far-off land. Austin settled 
 himself to listen and Abe began : 
 
 " Mother said her aunt told this story 
 to her when she was a little girl, so you see 
 it is a long time since it happened, and the 
 king and his little boy have been dead for 
 a hundred years. Well, this king's little 
 boy had a twisted foot, and because he 
 wasn't straight and active like other boys 
 his father didn't like him and was always 
 slapping him and mistreating him. One 
 day some travelers were passing through 
 the country and among them was a beau- 
 tiful little boy with long golden curls. 
 When the king saw him he wanted to take 
 him into his castle and pretend to the peo- 
 ple that this was his own child; and he 
 wanted to have him learn a lot of things 
 from books so that the boy might become 
 king when he died. So he swapped his 
 
238 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 little boy with the twisted foot for the 
 poor little boy who belonged to the trav- 
 elers, and he gave them a lot of gold be- 
 sides. The king's little son was old 
 enough to know that he had been traded 
 by his father because his foot was twisted 
 — because he was ugly and big and kind of 
 rough, just like you and me, Austin. So 
 he kissed his mother good-by and told her 
 he would come back to see her some time. 
 "Well, he worked with his foot, pulling 
 it and pressing down upon it, never mind- 
 ing the pain, trying to straighten it. One 
 day he hired a man to make two boards to 
 fit around his foot, giving to the man 
 some beads that his mother had given him, 
 and then he got the man to wrap the 
 boards tight around his foot. He suf- 
 fered day and night, but he kept on hav- 
 ing the boards drawn tighter until by the 
 time he was a young man his foot was 
 straight. Then he was determined to be 
 a great soldier, and get together a lot of 
 soldiers and go back to visit his mother. 
 
THE KING'S LITTLE BOY 239 
 
 and kill his father, and take his place as 
 king. He soon had a big army, and with 
 it he marched to the land of his father! 
 When he got there he sent word to his fa- 
 ther that he had come to kill him and take 
 his place as king. 
 
 "When his father learned what was to 
 be done he was badly scared and sent for 
 his son to come to see him. The son went 
 to his father's castle, and his father 
 begged him not to kill him, but the son 
 said that was why he had come, and he 
 would have to do it. Then the soldier's 
 mother came in and begged him to spare 
 his father's life. He finally said: 'All 
 right, mother, for your sake I will not kill 
 him. ' Then he sent his messenger out to 
 where his army was camped and ordered 
 those travelers who traded their boy to 
 his father to be brought to the castle. In 
 a little while they were there. Then the 
 king's son said to the king: 'Get off of 
 your throne/ And the king obeyed. 
 'Now.,' said the soldier, 'you see my 
 
240 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 twisted foot is straight, and with it I will 
 kick you out of this castle.' The soldier 
 then began to kick the king, and he kicked 
 him down the long steps out to the street, 
 and there he met the same travelers and 
 he said to them: 'Now you must take my 
 father and you must treat him just as you 
 treated me, and after you have kept him as 
 long as you kept me, you may bring him 
 back here. If, when you bring him back, 
 he has a twisted foot, I will make him 
 king again in my place and I will leave 
 the country. If he will work as hard to 
 twist his foot as I worked to straighten 
 mine, he may be successful. ' 
 
 "How do you like that story, Austin'?" 
 Abe asked. 
 
 "It's a good story," exclaimed Austin, 
 "but what became of the pretty little boy 
 the traveler left with the king?" 
 
 "Oh, I don't know. It's only a story, 
 and even if it was true, the boy's dead for 
 a hundred years I reckon, so it makes no 
 difference about him." 
 
CHAPTER XXX 
 
 TWO PRAYERS JUST ALIKE 
 
 "I believe that's Joel Walters' house 
 burning, ' ' said Thomas Lincoln, as he and 
 the Gollahers watched the bright light of 
 a distant fire. 
 
 "It's exactly in their direction," re- 
 plied Mr. Gollaher. "We better do a lit- 
 tle investigating ; and I guess it would be 
 well to take Abe and Austin along. They 
 might be of some help." 
 
 They set out at once for the top of the 
 hill back of the Lincoln cabin, for from 
 there they would have a better view of the 
 fire. 
 
 "It certainly is Joel's house," ex- 
 claimed Mr. Lincoln. 
 
 "Yes, I am sure of it now," replied Mr. 
 Gollaher ; and they ran on down the slope 
 241 
 
242 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 of the hill into the deeply wooded valley 
 beyond. 
 
 " That's not Mr. Walters' house," Abe 
 said, as he and Austin fell a little behind 
 the others. 
 
 "Then, if it ain't, why don't you tell the 
 men, so 's we can all go back home ? ' ' said 
 Austin impatiently. "It's sprinkling 
 rain right now, and I don't want to be 
 caught out here in a storm." 
 
 "You tell your father," said Abe, "and 
 I '11 tell mine." 
 
 When they had begun to climb the next 
 hill, Abe ran to his father and said: 
 "That's not Mr. Walters' house." 
 
 "How do you know?" queried Mr. 
 Lincoln. 
 
 Everybody stopped to hear Abe's 
 explanation. 
 
 "Because it's not in the right place." 
 
 "It certainly is in the right place," said 
 Mr. Lincoln, and Mr. Gollaher nodded his 
 head in approval. 
 
 "I'm sure it's not," contended Abe. 
 
TWO PRAYERS JUST ALIKE 243 
 
 "Why are you so sure, Abe? How do 
 you know?" asked Mr. Gollaher. 
 
 "Ill tell you why. You all know the 
 tall poplar tree on top of the hill there by 
 our house?" 
 
 "Yes," answered both men rather 
 impatiently. 
 
 "Well, sir, in the winter when all of its 
 leaves are off, that tree looks just like it 
 was leaning against the smoke coming out 
 of Mr. Walters' chimney; it looks that 
 way when you come up the path toward it. 
 To-night I sighted that tree against the 
 fire, and the fire was way off from it — 
 way over there," and Abe pointed to the 
 right. 
 
 "Did you ever see such a boy in all your 
 life!" exclaimed Mr. Gollaher; "and I'll 
 bet my buttons he's right, too." 
 
 It was only a short distance to the top 
 of the hill they were on and when they 
 reached it, Thomas Lincoln, somewhat out 
 of humor, said: "Abraham's right; but 
 I don't see why in the mischief he didn't 
 
244 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 tell us before we came all the way over 
 here. But if it isn't Walters' house burn- 
 ing, what is it?" 
 
 "I'll tell you what it is," said Abe. 
 "Don't you remember over at Mr. Hod- 
 gen's that day we all had dinner there 
 that Mr. Walters said he was going to 
 burn the hollow trees on his place? He 
 said he was going to do it because the wild 
 animals and varmints that catch chickens 
 live in hollow trees. I remember because 
 I thought he oughtn't to." 
 
 "You are right," said Mr. Lincoln. 
 "Joel shouldn't have done it. Such game 
 is leaving the country too fast, anyhow." 
 
 "Why didn't you tell us, Abe?" asked 
 Thomas Gollaher, as they were retracing 
 their steps through the woods, "why 
 didn't you tell us we were on a wild goose 
 chase?" 
 
 "I was afraid to," Abe answered. 
 
 "What were you afraid of?" 
 
 "I was a little afraid it might be Mr. 
 Walters' house. Then if we hadn't gone 
 
TWO PRAYERS JUST ALIKE 245 
 
 to help him he'd never have liked me 
 again; he'd have thought I didn't want to 
 come and help them out of their trouble." 
 
 Thomas Gollaher laughed heartily at 
 this very sensible answer and said: 
 "Tom, you have a mighty smart boy in 
 that youngster." 
 
 A little farther on Austin said ex- 
 citedly: "I hear water roaring." 
 
 "So do I. It's Knob Creek," replied 
 Abe. 
 
 "Father," said Austin, "I believe 
 Knob Creek's up, and we won't be able to 
 cross it." 
 
 "Look-a-here, Jonathan," Mr. Golla- 
 her called to Mr. Keith, "I believe the 
 boy's right. It looks like we've been cut 
 off from home. It hasn't rained here to 
 amount to anything, but I reckon the 
 waters above have flushed the stream so 
 we can't cross that foot-log." 
 
 It was true. The little mountain 
 stream had risen rapidly and was now 
 rippling over the foot-log, making it dan- 
 
248 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 gerous to cross, as the water at that point 
 was very swift, although not more than 
 waist deep. 
 
 By this time it was raining pretty hard 
 and the men realized it would be useless 
 to attempt to reach their homes that 
 night. So they halloed to their families 
 and sought shelter in a cliff high above 
 the water, to await the pleasure of Knob 
 Creek ; but the little stream continued to 
 climb so that by daybreak it had spread 
 completely over the lowlands, while the 
 heavy clouds continued their downpour. 
 
 Noon came, the creek continued to rise 
 and there was no sign that the rain would 
 cease in time for the channels to empty 
 themselves before night, so the party de- 
 cided to take refuge in the home which, 
 the night before, they thought was burn- 
 ing. They were given a hearty welcome 
 by Mr. Walters and his family, all of 
 w T hom laughed heartily when they learned 
 how their friends happened to be in their 
 present predicament. 
 
TWO PRAYERS JUST ALIKE 247 
 
 U 
 
 If I'd known the burning of those old 
 hollow trees was going to get my neigh- 
 bors into all of this trouble," said Mr. 
 Walters, "I would have left them for the 
 weasels and foxes." 
 
 " Austin," said Abe, when the two were 
 preparing for bed in the little loft over 
 the Walters' kitchen, "do you ever say 
 your prayers ? ' ' 
 
 "Sometimes I do and sometimes I 
 don't," answered Austin, yawning. "Do 
 you say yours ?" 
 
 "Yes, every night." 
 
 "Well, I guess I would, too, if I knew 
 what to say. What do you say, Abe?" 
 
 "I'll tell you mine, and you can remem- 
 ber and say it; then God will be getting 
 two prayers just alike. I just say : 
 
 "God help mother, help father, help 
 sister, help everybody; teach me to read 
 and write, and watch over Honey and 
 make him a good dog; and keep us all 
 from getting lost in the wilderness. 
 Amen ! ' ' 
 
CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 TELL THE TRUTH 
 
 "Austin/' said Abe, "I'll be mighty 
 glad when I can have my own big ax. 
 This would be a good place right here to 
 put up a schoolhouse. Don't you reckon 
 we could clean it up, and help the men to 
 build a schoolhouse?" 
 
 "I don't know, Abe. And if we had a 
 schoolhouse, who would teach school?" 
 
 "You remember Mrs. Hodgen always 
 said we ought to have the cage ready be- 
 fore we catch the bird, and I believe we 
 should have the schoolhouse built before 
 we try to get a teacher. If Mrs. Hodgen 
 keeps on teaching me and I keep on learn- 
 ing I could teach a little myself." 
 
 Austin laughed at this and teased a 
 little. 
 
 248 
 
TELL THE TRUTH 249 
 
 " That's all right," retorted Abe, "I 
 could teach you some things now. I can 
 spell a lot of words, and can count up to a 
 hundred. I wish you would try to learn 
 something about reading and writing and 
 spelling and figuring. ' ' 
 
 " Don't want to learn," Austin replied, 
 " because it wouldn't do me any good. I 
 don't expect to be a preacher or a teacher, 
 and what good would it do for me to learn 
 things like that?" 
 
 "Some of these times," answered Abe, 
 "you might want to sell a cow or a pig, 
 and you couldn't count your money; or 
 you might want to write something on a 
 tree, and you couldn't do that either. If 
 you would let me teach you what I know 
 now, by the time you learned that I'd 
 know more; so, you see, there would al- 
 ways be something I could teach you. ' ' 
 
 They were building a new ridge-road to 
 Elizabethtown. The settlers of that sec- 
 tion were working toward Hodgen's Mill, 
 and those of Hodgen Mill were working 
 
250 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 toward Elizabethtown, each crew hoping 
 to meet the other half-way between the 
 two places before bad weather set in. 
 
 Abe and Austin kept the road-build- 
 ers in their vicinity supplied with water 
 from the hill spring. Each carried a cedar 
 bucket and gourd, and were required to 
 pass the water frequently as the heat was 
 intense. Whenever they found opportu- 
 nity, the boys would take an extra ax and 
 slash at one of the smaller trees. 
 
 ("Abe was a natural-born chopper," 
 said Mr. Gollaher, "and I must admit he 
 could beat me at that kind of work, al- 
 though he was a good deal younger than I. 
 But he was larger, — he was the biggest 
 boy in Kentucky for his age — biggest in 
 body and mind.") 
 
 "Come here quick!" Austin called to 
 Abe, "I've cut my foot, and I've cut it 
 mighty bad, too." 
 
 Austin was panic-stricken, but Abe said 
 very quietly : "It ain't cut half as bad as 
 mine was the day the snake bit you. Take 
 
TELL THE TRUTH 251 
 
 that moccasin off and we '11 fix it. We '11 
 go to the spring, wash the blood off and 
 wrap your foot up in a piece of your 
 shirt-tail. ' ' 
 
 "I don't want mother to find out about 
 this," Austin said, after Abe had fastened 
 the bandage. "I don't believe I'll limp 
 when I get home, and then she won't ever 
 know anything about it." 
 
 "Yes, she will," said Abe. "because 
 part of your shirt-tail is gone." 
 
 6 ' That 's so, ' ' Austin admitted. < ' Well, 
 I '11 tell her Honey grabbed me and tore it 
 with his teeth." 
 
 "No, sir-ee, you won't!" said Abe em- 
 phatically. "You can't 'story' on Honey. 
 You'll just have to tell your mother the 
 truth. She won't whip you; she never 
 does. What are you afraid of ? " 
 
 "Well, I'll tell you, Abe, I've been 
 bragging about being a good chopper, and 
 I don't want them to laugh at me. " 
 
 "But you must tell the truth about that 
 shirt-tail. Your mother won't be mad 
 
252 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 when she knows you might have bled to 
 death if we hadn't tied up your foot right 
 away." 
 
 " Mother's going to be mad," insisted 
 Austin, " because just the other day she 
 said she believed I 'd have to have another 
 shirt before spring, and she told father 
 he must try to get some goods next time 
 he went to Elizabethtown or Bardstown." 
 
 "I'll tell you what your mother can 
 do," suggested Abe. "She can make a 
 new tail to your shirt out of the hide of 
 the wildcat you killed the day we were 
 fishing. ' ' 
 
 That suited Austin, and he wrapped his 
 moccasin about the injured foot and hur- 
 ried to the spring to get another bucket 
 of water for the roadbuilders. 
 
 Abe patted Honey's head and said: 
 "No, Honey, I won't let Austin or any- 
 body fib on you. ' ' Then the boys, answer- 
 ing the call for "more water," climbed 
 again to the top of the hill. 
 
 "Austin, they say there's a big book 
 
TELL THE TRUTH 253 
 
 somewhere that tells all about wrapping 
 up cuts and sores, and about giving medi- 
 cine made of herbs to sick people. If we 
 had that book and could read it, we could 
 learn a lot about such things, and would 
 know what to do the next time we get 
 hurt. And that's one reason you ought to 
 learn to read," concluded Abe. 
 
CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 THE RIGHT TO FIGHT 
 
 Corn-shucking and house-raising par- 
 ties would not be popular to-day unless 
 each " guest" was well paid for being 
 present. But in Kentucky one hundred 
 years ago, such invitations were accepted 
 with pleasure. The women, as well as the 
 men, attended these corn-shuckings, and 
 after the work was done, fiddles were 
 brought forth and the dancing began. 
 "Matches" were made between the boys 
 and girls, and there used to be a saying 
 that the girl who couldn't find a husband 
 at a corn-shucking social wasn't worth 
 shucks — that if she couldn't go from the 
 shucks to the dance, and from the dance 
 to the marriage altar within a month, she 
 would be an old maid. 
 254 
 
THE RIGHT TO FIGHT 255 
 
 When a pioneer wished to build a new 
 house, or an addition to his old one, he 
 usually spent several weeks in felling and 
 hauling logs. Then, allowing a few days 
 for mishaps and delays, he sent word to 
 his neighbors that upon a certain day he 
 would give a house-raising party. At the 
 appointed time the good friends would be 
 on hand. 
 
 They were building a cabin for a newly- 
 married couple who had recently removed 
 from Virginia and bought some land 
 from Thomas Gollaher's father — Aus- 
 tin's grandfather. Abe and Austin were 
 allowed to go to the party, that they might 
 have some primary training in the busi- 
 ness of house-raising. During the day a 
 fight occurred between two of the men, 
 following a stormy dispute over the date 
 of a certain battle in the Revolutionary 
 War. Abraham watched the struggle 
 with little apparent concern, as he sat 
 upon a log, his chin resting in his hands. 
 When asked by an old man if he was not 
 
256 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 afraid the men would hurt each other, he 
 very indifferently said he wasn't. 
 
 "And why?" asked the old man. 
 
 "Because," answered Abe, "they have 
 no business fighting. If they had waited 
 until they got home their wives could have 
 settled the question; the women keep 
 dates of such things set down in writing, 
 and besides, there wasn't any need to 
 fight about the big war which was over so 
 long ago. I wouldn't have cared very 
 much if they had bloodied each other's 
 noses." 
 
 Now, Abraham was no doubt mistaken 
 as to the women having "set down in writ- 
 ing" the dates of battles of the Revolu- 
 tion, but the women-folk of the back- 
 woods were the historians, and they kept 
 rather complete diaries, recording events 
 as told by the people or obtained from 
 borrowed papers and books. These dia- 
 ries were current, also. Deaths, mar- 
 riages, births and many other important 
 events were recorded, and "mother's book 
 
THE RIGHT TO FIGHT 257 
 
 of things," as it was called, was often re- 
 ferred to in settling disputes. 
 
 Abraham had no patience with men or 
 boys who tried to settle their differences 
 by personal encounters. He did not think 
 that "fist-and-skull" fighting, as they 
 called it, should be resorted to, unless one 
 had to " hit" to keep from being "hit." 
 
 "Austin, let me tell you something," he 
 said after the men had been separated, 
 "there is no use in fighting over dis — dis 
 — (what do you call it?) dis — putes. 
 There's always somebody who can tell 
 which one is right and which one is 
 wrong. All they have to do is to wait a 
 little while until they can find a book, or 
 get Missus Sarah to tell them." 
 
 "But just suppose, Abe, somebody 
 calls you a bad name ; then what are you 
 going to do about it?" 
 
 "Just let him alone ; if you hate the boy 
 it's best not to hit him." 
 
 "Why?" asked Austin. 
 
 "Because if you don't he'll go from bad 
 
258 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 to worse, and will finally be whipped at 
 the public whipping post ; but if you gave 
 him a good pounding it might cure him, ' ' 
 was Abe's characteristic reply. "Do you 
 know, Austin, what the public whipping 
 post is? It's a post where they tie bad 
 men and thieves and whip them where ev- 
 erybody can see the whipping; and they 
 say after a man is whipped at the public 
 whipping post he has to leave the coun- 
 try, for from that time on everybody will 
 make fun of him." 
 
 "Who whips him?" asked Austin. 
 
 "The law — the law gives some man the 
 right. 
 
 "I don't believe in fighting if it can be 
 helped," Abe went on. "You remember 
 the day father hit old Mr. Rolling Stone ; 
 well, father had to hit him because he was 
 fixing to cut father with a knife. I'd 
 have fought old Mr. Rolling Stone myself 
 that day he wanted to take Honey away 
 from me; I'd have fought him and 
 whipped him, and I'd have had the right 
 
THE RIGHT TO FIGHT 259 
 
 to do it. You have a right to fight to 
 keep what belongs to you, and to make 
 people give up what doesn't belong to 
 them; but I think it's mighty wrong to 
 fight over little disputes. 
 
 "I'm glad they let us come over here to- 
 day," said Abe on the way home that 
 evening; "I've learned a lot more about 
 getting the logs notched for putting them 
 together, and I can help with that church 
 and schoolhouse they are talking about 
 building over here on Knob Creek." 
 
 "And I'm glad, too," said Austin, "be- 
 cause I've been wanting to see a fight for 
 a long time." 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 abe's dream 
 
 The women-folk who lived near Knob 
 Creek met there twice each month during 
 the spring, summer and fall to do the 
 neighborhood washing. A slanting rock 
 was used for a wash-board ; limbs of trees 
 were stripped of their bark and the cloth- 
 ing spread over them to dry. The women- 
 folk gossiped and on one occasion even 
 told their dreams. 
 
 " Don't tell your bad dreams before 
 breakfast," advised Joel Walters' eldest 
 daughter. "You know I dreamed Aunt 
 Mary Kastor was dead, told it before 
 breakfast, and within a week we buried 
 her. I wouldn't tell another bad dream 
 before breakfast for anything." 
 
 Mrs. Keith (Jonathan Keith had now 
 260 
 
ABE'S DREAM 261 
 
 married a Miss Brownfield, and had 
 built a cabin so close to the Lincolns' 
 that they could talk from one to the oth- 
 er) related a dream of a man drowning in 
 the Rolling Fork River, and said: "I 
 woke Jonathan in the night and told him 
 of the dream. And just three weeks af- 
 ter that they found a man's body, all cov- 
 ered with mud, on the bank of the river. ' ' 
 Mrs. Gollaher then told in detail a 
 dream that had greatly impressed her. 
 She had dreamed that gold had been 
 found by the wagon-load back in the hills, 
 and people were rushing there from ev- 
 erywhere with picks and shovels, and that 
 heaps of the yellow ore was being hauled 
 by her house every day. The dream was 
 so real she believed there might be gold 
 in the hills, and sometimes she wanted to 
 go see for herself. She said that in her 
 dream President James Madison had 
 come from Washington City and was 
 overseeing the work of getting gold out 
 of the hills ; he said he was going to use it 
 
262 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 to pay for building roads from one end of 
 the country to the other. "Then," she 
 added laughingly, "I was awakened by a 
 loud clap of thunder." 
 
 Abe, listening with wide-eyed interest, 
 asked Mrs. Gollaher if she believed there 
 was anything in dreams. 
 
 "Yes," she replied, "but you and Aus- 
 tin mustn't look for gold in that hill, be- 
 cause you might get lost." 
 
 "I don't want any gold," answered 
 Abraham. "The reason I asked you if you 
 believe dreams come true, was because I 
 once had a dream which I have been 
 thinking about a heap." 
 
 "Then," said Mrs. Gollaher, "we want 
 to hear your dream. What was it 
 about?" 
 
 "Was it about your sweetheart?" 
 asked Mrs. Keith. 
 
 "No, ma'am; I haven't got any sweet- 
 heart. I did have one, but she said my 
 feet and hands were too big, and my legs 
 
ABE'S DREAM 263 
 
 and arms too long, and that she liked the 
 Evans boy better than she did me ; so 
 Susie — Susie Enlow don't like me any 
 more." 
 
 "Too bad, Abe," said another woman; 
 "but we want to hear about your dream. 
 What was it?" 
 
 "Well," said Abe, "my dream was 
 about making a speech to a lot of people 
 in a big town, and " 
 
 Here the boy was interrupted by a 
 frightened scream from one of the chil- 
 dren and the general commotion that fol- 
 lowed. A large water snake had wrapped 
 itself about the little girl's leg. Austin, 
 the snake-charmer, tried his wiles, but the 
 reptile wouldn't charm, so he seized it by 
 the head and beat it to death upon the 
 rocks. 
 
 When the excitement was over they 
 tried to get Abe to finish his dream, but 
 he just shook his head and said: "There 
 wasn't much more to it." 
 
264 THE BOYHOOD OP LINCOLN 
 
 "Do you ever expect to make a speech 
 to a lot of people in a big town?" asked 
 Mrs. Gollaher with a smile. 
 
 "I don't know, I might," Abraham 
 replied. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 OFF THE SHEEP 's BACK 
 
 "Abkaham, do you see how heavy the 
 wool is on those sheep over there?" asked 
 Mrs. Hodgen, as the two were strolling 
 through a grove on the Hodgen farm. 
 
 "Yes, ma'am, the white sheep look like 
 big snowballs and the black sheep look 
 like burnt backlogs." 
 
 "Well," continued Mrs. Hodgen, "I'm 
 going to make you and Mr. John each a 
 suit of clothes out of that wool, and knit 
 you some socks, to keep you warm next 
 winter. ' ' 
 
 "It will take almost as much wool to 
 make a suit for me as for Mr. John," said 
 Abraham. "Just look how long my arms 
 and legs are. They are growing twice as 
 fast as Austin's. If I keep on growing 
 265 
 
266 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 taller, I'm afraid I'll have to live out-of- 
 doors. Father said the other day that by 
 the time I was fifteen he'd have to cut a 
 hole in the roof for my head to stick 
 through — when I was sitting down." 
 
 "You mustn't let people tease you about 
 your long legs and arms, Abraham. 
 Don't you know if your arms are longer 
 than those of other men you'll be able to 
 reach farther ? 
 
 "Suppose a fairy should hang a bag of 
 gold high in a tree, and would say to the 
 boys of your age around here, 'The first 
 boy who reaches the bag of gold, without 
 tiptoeing or jumping, may have it.' 
 Don't you know you would get it? And 
 maybe God gave you long legs so you 
 could travel faster toward success when 
 you are older. 
 
 "You must stop worrying and feel that 
 you were made that way so you could 
 reach big things with your hands and step 
 over perplexing things with your feet. 
 Anyhow," she continued, "we'll make 
 
OFF THE SHEEP'S BACK 267 
 
 those two suits of clothes. You must ask 
 your mother to let you spend a week with 
 me so we can shear the sheep and get the 
 wool ready to spin." 
 
 It was fun for Abraham and he worked 
 faithfully with Mrs. Hodgen until the 
 new suits were made. The breeches 
 turned out to be three or four inches too 
 long, but when Mrs. Hodgen insisted on 
 cutting them off, he said: "No, they'll 
 be just right next month." 
 
 "Where did you get your new suit, 
 Abe ?" asked a boy at the mill a few days 
 later. 
 
 "Mrs. Hodgen cut it off the sheep's 
 back and gave it to me," he answered. 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. Hodgen, "mother gave 
 Abe that suit and Abe gave me this one." 
 
 "No, sir," Abe quickly corrected, "Mis- 
 sus Sarah gave it to you." 
 
 "Didn't you help Missus Sarah shear 
 the sheep, spin the wool and weave the 
 cloth?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
268 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 "Well, don't you think your services 
 are worth the suit you received?" 
 
 "A boy would have to work a whole 
 year for a suit like that," replied Abe. 
 
 "You must learn to charge what your 
 services are worth," Mr. Hodgen insisted. 
 "Some men would work you a lifetime, if 
 you would allow it, and wouldn't give you 
 a pair of socks. I say you earned your 
 suit of clothes." 
 
 Abraham made no a n s w e r — j u s t 
 grinned. But later in the day he said to 
 Mr. Hodgen, "I reckon you're right about 
 some people letting you work a lifetime 
 and not giving you anything for it, if you 
 didn't make them. You know that old 
 man who works for Mr. Evans? Well, I 
 asked him one day, when he was looking 
 so hungry, if Mr. Evans gave him three 
 meals a day. He said, ' Yes, when I work 
 all day he gives me three meals, but when 
 it rains and I can't work, he won't even 
 give me my supper.' " 
 
CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 THE HUMAN TREE 
 
 A dead tree upon the summit of a high 
 hill is often so shaped by the storms of 
 years that, with the aid of imagination, it 
 may come to resemble a huge human 
 form ; and its shadow against the sky of- 
 tei? fills the superstitious with awe. 
 
 There were a few people in the Knob 
 Creek section who believed the signs they 
 read in the dead trees on the hills. To 
 their distorted fancies the limbs of such a 
 tree might point in one direction to-day, 
 and in another the next. If one limb 
 pointed south, that meant in winter that 
 the weather was to be mild ; if in summer 
 the heat was to be excessive. It was an ill 
 omen if a limb pointed skyward. It 
 meant there was to be a death in the com- 
 269 
 
270 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 munity, and the people who believed in 
 these predictions began to give more at- 
 tention to their prayers and their church 
 duties. 
 
 Thomas Lincoln was not without his 
 superstitions. It is related that once, 
 when on his way to visit a neighbor, he 
 saw a red bird and a black bird in the 
 same tree and that he immediately aban- 
 doned his journey and returned to his 
 home and his "beautiful Nancy." He 
 had been told, and he believed, that the 
 two birds — the red and the black — when 
 together, foretold dire disaster to the com- 
 munity — bloodshed and sorrow. 
 
 Thomas Gollaher used to plague Mr. 
 Lincoln about his red-bird, black-bird 
 sign, but he quit when Mr. Lincoln dis- 
 covered that Mr. Gollaher would go two 
 miles out of his way to keep from meeting 
 a white mule before noon on Fridav. 
 
 Some five miles from the Lincoln and 
 Gollaher homes, on the tallest peak of 
 Muldraugh Hill, stood the huge white 
 
THE HUMAN TREE 271 
 
 trunk of a dead tree. Every limb except 
 two large ones, and every bit of bark bad 
 been stripped from the tree by Old Fa- 
 ther Time, and it stood like a ragged sen- 
 tinel keeping watch over the valleys for 
 miles around. The two remaining limbs 
 resembled nothing so much as big, brawmy 
 arms, while an immense knot looked not 
 unlike a human head. This ghost of the 
 woods could be plainly seen from the sur- 
 rounding hills, and there were more than 
 a few people had faith in its warnings and 
 belief in its predictions. The more sim- 
 ple-minded would climb the hill to com- 
 mune with the old white trunk whose 
 spirit had passed on and to bring home 
 with them tales which opened wide the 
 children's eyes and sent them creeping 
 fearfully to bed. 
 
 "It is said," related Mr. Gollaher, 
 "that on one occasion old man Pottinger 
 came home quivering with excitement and 
 announced that the tree was smoking a 
 pipe, a great stream of fire coming from 
 
272 THE BOYHOOD OP LINCOLN 
 
 its mouth, and that its head was as high 
 as the clouds. He believed the end of the 
 world had come, and begged that the 
 neighborhood be notified, so that every 
 one might pray before the final collapse. 
 He was a maniac," said Mr. Gollaher, 
 "and they had to tie him to his bed and 
 keep him there until he died. Another 
 fellow had such faith in the tree that he 
 obeyed its 'orders' under all circum- 
 stances. Whenever he thought one of the 
 arms pointed north, he was sure that win- 
 ter would soon set in ; on one occasion he 
 even gathered his perishable vegetables in 
 July, fearing a frost would come." 
 
 "Abe," said Austin, "let's climb up the 
 hill and look for the human tree. I don't 
 believe it's there," Austin went on, when 
 Abe had consented to go. "I reckon since 
 old man Pottinger went crazy God has 
 blown it down." 
 
 "It's too cloudy," suggested Abe. "The 
 tree is still there, and we can see it as soon 
 as the sun comes out. There it is now, 
 
Austin Gollaher, Lincoln's boyhood friend and playmate 
 
THE HUMAN TREE 273 
 
 with its arms pointing over that way, and 
 over that way (one to the east, the other 
 to the west), just like it pointed the last 
 time we saw it." 
 
 "Do you believe in it?" Austin asked. 
 
 Abe was looking down into the valley 
 below them and said: "Mr. Keith has six 
 sheep down there, Austin, and they're get- 
 ting big and fat." Then to Austin's ques- 
 tion he answered very emphatically, 
 "No." 
 
 "Look at its arm pointing over the hill ; 
 that ain't the way it pointed the last time 
 we saw it!" exclaimed Austin, much ex- 
 cited. "I believe that arm is pointing to 
 a hill that's got gold in it — the gold 
 mother dreamed of and told us about that 
 day down on Knob Creek. What do you 
 say to going over there some time to hunt 
 for it ? What color is gold, Abe ? ' ' 
 
 "Yellow." 
 
 "It's red or yellow, I don't know which. 
 Will you go with me some time?" 
 
 "Somebody would have to go with you 
 
274 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 because you don't know what gold looks 
 like. Why don't you get Mr. Hodgen to 
 show you some of it ? He has plenty. ' ' 
 
 "Let's go to-morrow," pleaded Austin. 
 
 6 ' I won 't go at all, ' ' said Abe with a 
 tone of finality; "I don't want any gold." 
 
 "You're afraid," accused Austin. 
 
 "No, I am not," Abe answered quietly; 
 "but I don't want gold. What could I do 
 with it?" he asked in all seriousness. 
 
 "I'll tell you one thing you could do 
 with it," suggested Austin. "You could 
 send to Bardstown and buy that book 
 you've been wanting so long. What's the 
 name of it?" 
 
 "R. Crusoe," answered Abe. "I will 
 get that anyhow, pretty soon. Mrs. Hod- 
 gen is going to have it brought to me the 
 next time any of the men take a flat boat 
 of hides to Louisville." 
 
 "I want you to read part of it to me, 
 Abe, when you've learned to read it." 
 
 "Why don't you want to hear all of 
 it?" 
 
THE HUMAN TREE 275 
 
 "I just wanted to find out why Mr. 
 Crusoe didn't name Friday ' Saturday'!" 
 Austin answered, grinning. 
 
 After a moment's silence: " There 
 might be a bear over there," said Abe 
 meditatively. 
 
 1 'See!" replied Austin quickly, "I 
 knew you were afraid." 
 
 "I'll go with you if our mothers will let 
 us," and as he spoke Abe turned to the 
 path leading home. 
 
 "Why, Abe, you know they won't let 
 us go. We '11 have to slip off if we go at 
 all." 
 
 "I won't do that. It's too far to go 
 without telling them where we are going. 
 If they said we could go, and we got lost, 
 they would know about where to look for 
 us. Anyhow, there's no gold over there, 
 Austin, and if you keep on believing in 
 that old tree, they'll have to tie you to 
 your bed when you get old just like they 
 did old Mr. Pottinger. I don't believe in 
 that tree at all," Abe continued. "If I 
 
276 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 wanted to believe in a tree I'd choose a big 
 live one with leaves on it. I might see 
 something in that to help me know 
 whether it's going to be hot or cold, or 
 whether it will rain or snow. But a dead 
 tree can't tell you anything." 
 
 "A few days after this conversation," 
 said Mr. Gollaher in relating the story, 
 "some one in our neighborhood reported 
 that the body of a man, badly mutilated, 
 had been found at the foot of the very hill 
 that I wanted Abe to visit with me. At 
 first it was thought that the man had been 
 attacked by a hungry bear, but it devel- 
 oped later that he had been shot through 
 the head, perhaps by his own gun, and his 
 body mutilated by small animals. That 
 was the last time I ever asked Abe to 
 search for gold. 
 
 "Abe didn't care for money," con- 
 tinued Mr. Gollaher. "He'd have given 
 the whole hill of it for that book, R. 
 Crusoe." 
 
CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 WHERE IS INDIAN ANNER 
 
 Abe arose from the split log bench in 
 front of the Hodgen home. " Let's go in 
 the house a minute, I want to ask Missus 
 Sarah something. ' ' 
 
 " She's busy putting up berries," ob- 
 jected Austin, "and we oughtn't to bother 
 her now. ' ' 
 
 Abe paid no attention to this, but, look- 
 ing very solemn, walked leisurely up the 
 narrow path to the house, Austin 
 following. 
 
 "For goodness' sake, Abe," Austin ex- 
 claimed, "don't you ever get tired of feel- 
 ing bad?" 
 
 Abe made no reply. 
 
 "Here, boys," said Mrs. Hodgen, "is 
 
 277 
 
278 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 some bread and jam I was just fixing for 
 you." 
 
 " Missus Sarah, " asked Abe presently, 
 wiping the jam from his mouth, " where 
 is Indian Anner?" 
 
 "I don't know, Abe, I never heard of it. 
 Why do you ask'?" 
 
 "Because father keeps talking about 
 going there to live, and mother don't want 
 to go and neither do I. " 
 
 "Oh!" said Mrs. Hodgen, laughing 
 heartily, "you mean Indiana. Well, In- 
 diana is several miles from here. You 
 have to cross a big river called the Ohio 
 before you get there. That river sepa- 
 rates Indiana from Kentucky just like 
 the Rolling Fork separates this county 
 from Nelson County." 
 
 "The Ohio— the Ohio River," Abe re- 
 peated. "Wasn't it close to that river 
 that father's father was killed by the 
 Indians?" 
 
 "Yes, your grandfather, Abraham Lin- 
 coln, was killed there, and your uncle, 
 
WHERE IS INDIAN ANNER 279 
 
 only a little boy, shot and killed an Indian 
 just as he was ready to strike your father 
 with a tomahawk. ' ' 
 
 " Abraham Lincoln," said Abe medita- 
 tively, "I was named for him and for Mr. 
 Abraham Enlow, too. I'm named for two 
 men ; maybe that 's what makes my name 
 harder to spell than Austin's," he said 
 dryly. "I don't want to go, Mrs. Hod- 
 gen, but if father makes mother go, I'll 
 have to go, too. We've got everything 
 cleaned up around here, and now we'll 
 have to clean up over there. We've got 
 our schoolhouse done and the church 
 nearly finished, and what more do we 
 w r ant? But father says big game is get- 
 ting scarce around here, and I reckon he 
 thinks there's more of it across the Ohio 
 River. I wish he'd go in partners with 
 Mr. Gollaher raising corn, and stay 
 here." 
 
 " Don't you remember what the 
 preacher said, Abraham, that everything 
 is for the best?" asked Mrs. Hodgen. 
 
280 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 i c Yes, ma 'am. Parson Gentry said that 
 over in the Church of Maple Trees, but I 
 would have to study over that a long time 
 before I could believe it; it sounds 
 mighty funny to me," and the boy shook 
 his head. 
 
 " Let's go look for that coon Mr. Hod- 
 gen was telling us about, ' ' said Austin. 
 
 "We'd better get our meal and go 
 home; it's too late now, and anyway I'm 
 not going to let Honey kill a coon," said 
 Abe in that tone of finality which Austin 
 understood so well. "I'm feeling funny 
 down where my heart is, and I want to 
 swing in Sarah's swing and see if I can't 
 blow some of this lump out of my throat." 
 
 The two lads trudged silently along the 
 narrow road for some distance, then Abe 
 began : 
 
 "You know, Austin, if we go to that 
 place across the big river, I'll never get 
 back. It's hard to get across Knob Creek 
 sometimes, and I know I could never cross 
 that big river ; so when I tell you good-by 
 
WHERE IS INDIAN ANNER 281 
 
 I reckon I'll never see you again. I'll 
 give you the crow and the coon, and maybe 
 I'll give you the goat. But I'm going to 
 take Honey. Nov/, Austin," and Abe 
 spoke very slowly, "you tell your father 
 to tell mine that if he'll stay here, your 
 father will help him with his crops every 
 year ; and when I get bigger I '11 help your 
 father do anything he wants done." 
 
 Austin agreed to do this, but added: 
 "You know your father never thinks 
 about crops. Maybe if father would tell 
 him he'd go partners and set a lot more 
 traps, he 'd be more willing to stay. ' ' 
 
 "No, don't do that; father has enough 
 traps. I'd rather he would raise more 
 corn. 
 
 "Austin, I'm learning to write a little 
 bit, and if we go to Indiana I'll write you 
 a letter and tell you about things over 
 there. I'll give it to somebody passing 
 and ask him to give it to somebody else 
 and some time you would come across the 
 man that had the letter and he would give 
 
282 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 it to you. I wish you would learn to read 
 and write. You know how I learned, 
 don't you?" 
 
 "Yes," Austin replied. 
 
 "Let's drive some stobs in the ground 
 and tie a hen, a cat and a dog to them, and 
 I'll teach you just like Mrs. Hodgen 
 taught me." 
 
 Austin agreed, and the next day Abe 
 opened school, but it was slow work be- 
 cause Austin couldn't fix his mind upon 
 his studies. 
 
 "Abe was very patient," said Mr. Gol- 
 laher, "though he got mad two or three 
 times, and I said, 'Abe, you are mad at 
 me.' He apologized by saying he had 
 been told that school-teachers had to pre- 
 tend they were mad sometimes to make 
 the children learn, and he was just acting 
 that way to see if I'd pay more attention. 
 
 "After a time I did learn to spell hen, 
 cat and dog, and could write these words 
 pretty well. Abe seemed very happy over 
 my progress, and said, with as much en- 
 
WHERE IS INDIAN ANNER 283 
 
 thusiasm as he ever displayed, 'Now, 
 Austin, if we do go to Indi — Indiana, I '11 
 write to you about a cat, a dog and a hen, 
 and I know you can read that much of my 
 letter." 
 
CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 A FIGHT AND A STRANGER 
 
 "Abe had his likes and dislikes," said 
 Mr. Gollaher, "and while always sympa- 
 thetic and loving, he was not what might 
 be called a i goody-goody' boy. He never 
 cringed though he often cried, and met 
 every situation with a heart as strong as 
 God ever put in human breast. He was 
 a man through and through. 
 
 "Abe's resentments were mild, but pos- 
 itive. I have often seen him, in the most 
 unconcerned way, make older boys 'show 
 the white feather.' Once, at a picnic, a 
 young man spoke rudely to my mother be- 
 cause she reproved him for grabbing a lot 
 of fried chicken from a tin pan. Abe took 
 up the matter : 
 
 " 'You mustn't talk that way to Mrs. 
 284 
 
A FIGHT AND A STRANGER 285 
 
 Gollaher; she's too good to everybody to 
 have a big buck like you talk mean to her. ' 
 
 " 'What are you going to do about it?' 
 asked the young man. 
 
 " 'Well,' said Abe, 'I haven't made up 
 my mind what I '11 do about it, but there 
 are a good many things I could do, and I'll 
 just show you one of them.' 
 
 "With that he jumped up like a kanga- 
 roo and wound his long arms about the 
 boy's neck, his long legs around his body, 
 and they rolled to the ground. 
 
 " 'Don't do that, boys,' cried mother. 
 
 " 'We are not fighting,' said the young 
 man who had 'sassed' mother, 'are we, 
 Abe?' 
 
 " 'No, sir,' answered Abe, 'it's just a 
 little friendly contest like Mr. John Hod- 
 gen holds down at the mill sometimes be- 
 tween boys, just to see which is the best 
 man.' 
 
 "Both boys were now on their feet, and 
 Abe said: 'I think you ought to tell Mrs. 
 Gollaher you are sorry. ' 
 
286 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 "The young fellow at once stepped up 
 to mother and said: 'Mrs. Gollaher, I 
 acted mighty bad and I'm sorry.' 
 
 "Well, sir, that did mother lots of good 
 and made her think even more of Abe 
 than ever. She told Mrs. Lincoln about it 
 that evening, and kissed Abe on the fore- 
 head and said she believed she thought as 
 much of him as she did of her own 
 children. 
 
 "Then I said: 'Mother, you tell me not 
 to fight, and you are kissing Abe because 
 he did fight. ' 
 
 " 'No,' said mother, 'Abe wasn't fight- 
 ing, and besides he had a right to make 
 the boy behave. Abe never picks a quar- 
 rel — he tries to stay out of them. If we 
 were to encourage you, Austin, you 
 would be fighting all of the time.' " 
 
 One day on the way to Knob Creek 
 school, of which Abe was so proud, and of 
 which he often told his friends after he 
 became president, he was accosted by a 
 man who said he wanted to buy Honey. 
 
A FIGHT AND A STRANGER 287 
 
 Abe wouldn't listen to such a thing and 
 told the man positively Honey wasn't for 
 sale, at any price. Something about the 
 stranger was not pleasing to Abe. His 
 face was ugly and hard, and Abe told Aus- 
 tin the man reminded him of the rotten 
 trunk of a small tree down on Knob 
 Creek. 
 
 "The stranger had a crippled hand," 
 said Mr. Gollaher, "only one finger, and 
 the arm was twisted and bent. The man 
 inquired about the cattle and sheep, es- 
 pecially the sheep in the community ; said 
 he was selling a remedy that would make 
 the wool on a sheep grow twice as fast, 
 and that would make a cow give twice as 
 much milk. When Abe returned home 
 that evening he told his mother of meet- 
 ing the stranger and added that he didn't 
 like the man's face, and thought the peo- 
 ple had better be on the lookout, for he 
 might be crazy and poison a lot of sheep 
 and cows. 
 
 "Four or five days later John Hodgen 
 
288 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 found the carcasses of three of his best 
 sheep way over there in the woods, two 
 miles from home. They had been skinned 
 and the skins taken ; no doubt slaughtered 
 for the skins. The same thing happened 
 a few days later to several of Mr. Pottin- 
 ger 's sheep, over in Nelson County. 
 
 ' ' Of course, there was much excitement, 
 and the whole neighborhood was aroused. 
 Mr. Pottinger found a trail of blood lead- 
 ing through a dense woods, and followed 
 it until it was lost, but still kept up the 
 hunt for the culprit, remaining in the 
 woods two days and two nights. On the 
 third night he came upon two men skin- 
 ning a big sheep belonging to my grand- 
 father. Mr. Pottinger didn 't try to arrest 
 the men, but raised his rifle and shot the 
 largest one through the breast. The 
 smaller man escaped. Everybody in the 
 neighborhood went to my grandfather's 
 farm the next day to view the remains of 
 the culprit. As soon as Abe saw the man's 
 crippled arm and hand he said: ' Honey 
 
M 
 
 "a 
 
 pq 
 
 HTOS& 
 
A FIGHT AND A STRANGER 289 
 
 was right; his hair wouldn't have bristled 
 and he wouldn't have growled so if he 
 hadn't known that was a bad man. 
 
 " 'What do you think about Mr. Pot- 
 tinger killing the man?' I asked excit- 
 edly. 'I'm glad of it, because he might 
 have killed some of us. ' 
 
 " 'Well,' said Abe, 'I don't care much 
 myself. I'm just sorry that the man was 
 a thief. I reckon he's better off, and I 
 know the people around here are. I hope 
 he didn't have any little children who are 
 looking for him to come home.' 
 
 "Indeed, Abraham Lincoln, the child, 
 had much of the human in him," contin- 
 ued Mr. Gollaher. "When he stood there 
 looking down upon the body of the 
 stranger he was perhaps the coolest one 
 in the crowd. He knew the man should 
 have been killed. The slaughter of the 
 sheep just for their hides was enough for 
 Abe. He had no sympathy to waste — he 
 was just sorry the man was a thief. 
 That was all." 
 
CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 
 FOR THE BEST 
 
 The children of the frontiersman who 
 lived in the little cabins on the hills or the 
 larger ones in the valleys, were happy 
 youngsters, because they were so close to 
 the world as God made it ; wearing coats 
 of buckskin, moccasins of calfskin and 
 caps of coonskins, they faced joyously the 
 winter's cold, breathing the purity of 
 frozen fields and woods ; and in summer, 
 in flimsy aprons or long-tailed shirts, 
 they sought the beauties of the silent 
 hills ; they loved the music of the moun- 
 tain stream, the singing of the birds, and 
 the whisper of the wind among the trees. 
 They knew little of the world beyond, and 
 were happy in the velvet gloom of the 
 forest. 
 
 290 
 
FOR THE BEST 291 
 
 "Abraham," said Mrs. Lincoln one 
 morning, "we are going to Mr. Hodgen's 
 grove to-morrow to hear the Bible read, 
 and I want you and Austin to listen 
 closely. And you must fix up and try to 
 keep clean. Many children will be there 
 and I want their mothers to point to you 
 as good examples for their boys." 
 
 The great host of people, gathered in 
 the grove, spread a feast under the trees 
 at noon, and everybody was enjoying it 
 until Austin got a fish-bone in his throat. 
 ' ' There was considerable excitement, ' ' 
 said Mr. Gollaher, "until Mr. Enlow ran 
 his big fingers down my throat and pulled 
 the bone out." 
 
 A little son of Joel Walters was there 
 with a goat hitched to a cart. Abe and 
 Austin were greatly interested, though 
 they listened strictly to the reading. But 
 as soon as the benediction was pro- 
 nounced they turned their attention to the 
 outfit. 
 
 John Hodgen watched the boys for a 
 
292 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 moment, smiling, and then called them 
 over to his workshop and presented Abe 
 with a cart. "I just finished it to-day," 
 he said, "and I have given it to you, Abe, 
 because you have the goat; but you un- 
 derstand that Austin is to use it when- 
 ever he wants to. You are partners in 
 nearly everything, and I want you to be 
 partners in this, too." 
 
 "Austin can have the goat and cart any 
 time he wants them," assured Abe, "and 
 we will always play with them together, 
 because I don't want to drive the goat un- 
 less Austin is with me." 
 
 "And that's not all; go tell Missus Sa- 
 rah to come here. ' ' When she came, smil- 
 ing, Mr. Hodgen said: "Mother, where 's 
 that set of harness you made for Abe's 
 billy-goat?" 
 
 "Well, our joy was complete, never 
 were boys happier and I was just as inter- 
 ested in that cart and harness as if they 
 were mine," said Mr. Gollaher, "because 
 I knew Abe would always divide up with 
 
FOR THE BEST 293 
 
 me. They were wonderful presents," lie 
 continued; "the backwoods boy's highest 
 ambition was to own such a team. ' ' 
 
 "I wonder what Mr. and Mrs. Hodgen 
 are talking about," said Austin; " they've 
 been over there ever since they gave you 
 the harness and cart. See, they are mo- 
 tioning to us;" and both boys started off 
 at a trot. 
 
 "Austin," began Mr. Hodgen, "next 
 spring I want you to help me at the mill ; 
 I have talked to your father and he is will- 
 ing. Of course I'll pay you for your 
 work." 
 
 Abe's head dropped, and he turned to 
 leave. Then Missus Sarah threw her 
 arms about him and pulled his big sad 
 face up close to her own. 
 
 ' ' Now, my boy, I want to talk to you. I 
 want to tell you something, and I don't 
 want you to be heartbroken; I want you 
 to be the big, wonderful manly boy that 
 you always are. You won't be with us 
 next spring, or you know Mr. John would 
 
291 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 have given you a place in his mill, too. 
 Mr. John told Austin about the place 
 while you were here because he knew you 
 would be glad for Austin. Your father 
 has finally decided to move to Indiana be- 
 fore winter sets in ; to start about the first 
 of November." 
 
 The tears were now gushing from Abe's 
 eyes, and his sobs were pathetic, but he 
 only said: "I don't want to go." 
 
 "Abraham," said the good little wom- 
 an, "I didn't want to tell you to-day, 
 but your mother insisted on it. Don't cry 
 any niore, please, but make up your mind 
 the move is for the best, and don't let your 
 mother know how bad you feel. You can 
 come back to see us some time, and, if you 
 are good young men you and Austin can 
 take Mr. John 's mill and run it. ' ' 
 
 Abe promised, but he said: "Missus 
 Sarah, I don't reckon I will ever come 
 back." 
 
 And on the way home, the tears still 
 glistening in his eyes, he said: "Mother, 
 
FOR THE BEST 295 
 
 it may be good for all of us in Indiana. 
 We may settle close to some school, and 
 after I have done my day's work, maybe 
 father will let me borrow some books 
 from the teacher, and I will read and 
 learn something by the pine-knot fire at 
 night." 
 
CHAPTER XXXIX 
 
 THE LAST OF BILLY 
 
 Near the Lincoln and Gollaher houses, 
 upon a hill, stood a tall elm, spread like a 
 big umbrella. Near its trunk circled the 
 ridge-road, winding on to Hodgen's Mill, 
 thence to Elizabethtown and on to the 
 Ohio River, where some enterprising 
 "Hoosiers" plied a fleet of flat boats for 
 those Kentuckians who wanted to cross 
 over and continue their journey through 
 southern Indiana hills until the trail 
 dipped into wide thoroughfares leading to 
 the big cities of the East. 
 
 The old elm tree, when its foliage was 
 full, offered shelter to the wayfarers. It 
 had become so popular that some thought- 
 ful pioneer had placed smooth maple logs 
 around its trunk — an inviting seat for 
 296 
 
THE LAST OF BILLY 297 
 
 weary travelers. The tree stood in the 
 center of the hill, welcoming all who 
 passed that way. To the north the hill 
 dropped rather suddenly toward Knob 
 Creek, to the south it sloped gently to the 
 valley. 
 
 Austin thought no better place could 
 have been selected to introduce the goat to 
 the cart and harness than the top of Elm 
 Tree Hill, and against Abe's better judg- 
 ment, it was there they made the trial — to 
 see just what Billy would do when 
 " hooked up." It took only a few min- 
 utes for him to show them what he would 
 do. He bowed his neck, tucked his head, 
 bellowed a loud protest, and with a high 
 leap went over the hill, rolling like a ball 
 to Knob Creek below. To the lads on the 
 hill it looked like an irreparable accident. 
 
 " Austin," said Abe, "we were not care- 
 ful enough. I knew this wasn't the place 
 to hitch Billy to the cart. A goat is like a 
 mule ; he's just as apt to go one way as the 
 other. ' ' 
 
298 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 ''Well," said Austin, "I don't believe 
 anything was hurt much; look at him 
 standing down there with his nose in the 
 water." 
 
 " Funny, wasn't it?" remarked Abe, af- 
 ter a careful examination of the outfit. 
 "Nothing much hurt, but the next time 
 we won't choose the top of a hill. I once 
 heard father say he'd never take a mule to 
 the top of a hill, that there was no telling 
 when he would take a fool notion to back 
 off. Why, it was right up here some- 
 where, close to this hill, that Mr. McDou- 
 gal's mule backed over a ledge, when the 
 family was passing through this part of 
 the country, and killed their youngest 
 child. Mrs. McDougal was so heartbroken 
 she wouldn't go any farther, and that's 
 how they happened to locate here. 
 Mother remembers all about it, and she 
 says God has lots of strange ways of 
 changing people's plans. So to-morrow 
 we'll try to break Billy in the corn-field." 
 
 But the boys had another mission on 
 
THE LAST OF BILLY 299 
 
 Elm Tree Hill. They had been directed 
 to keep a lookout for a preacher who had 
 sent word he was coming to begin the pre- 
 liminary work of conducting a camp- 
 meeting in the Church of Maple Trees, 
 and the boys sought the shelter of the tree 
 to keep their vigil. Abe was unusually 
 reticent ; his sad eyes were fairly devour- 
 ing the hills and valleys as the September 
 haze hung low over the tree-tops. 
 
 "I wish that preacher would hurry up 
 if he's coming," said Abe impatiently. 
 "I don't want to stay up here any longer ; 
 I'm tired and I feel like there's a big rock 
 in my breast. I don't want to go to Indi- 
 ana; I don't want to leave you; I don't 
 want to leave this Hill and Knob Creek ; 
 I don't want to leave Mr. and Mrs. Hod- 
 gen, and your mother and father and little 
 sister and brother; I want to stay here 
 and work in Mr. Hodgen's mill next 
 spring. I think about it all the time," 
 Abe continued pathetically, "and last 
 night I dreamed about it. I dreamed we 
 
300 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 were there, and we had no water, and we 
 were all thirsty, and mother fell sick and 
 was begging for water, and I tried to come 
 back to the spring there by our house, but 
 I couldn't cross the Ohio River ; and when 
 I got back home sister told me an angel 
 had come and had taken mother to 
 Heaven, where they had water upon ev- 
 ery hill in dippers of gold." 
 
 Austin was amazed at A be 's dream and 
 asked: "Why didn't you take your 
 mother a drink from the Ohio River?" 
 
 "Because," Abe solemnly answered, 
 "the water was muddy, and big ugly cat- 
 fish were swimming around in it. Then I 
 got wide awake and didn't go to sleep any 
 more, and before the sun was up Honey 
 and I went to the spring for a bucket of 
 water." 
 
 Abe and Austin watched for the 
 preacher until twilight; then the two 
 heart-sore boys started home to report his 
 failure to appear. Billy followed, and 
 Austin pulled the cart. 
 
THE LAST OF BILLY 301 
 
 " Austin," said Abe, "I don't see why 
 Billy couldn't have pulled the cart like 
 you are pulling it." 
 
 "I don't either," said Austin, " except 
 that Billy ain't as old as I am, and goats 
 don't have as much sense as people, any- 
 how." To which Abe very solemnly re- 
 plied that he didn't believe the goat would 
 ever be as smart as Austin. 
 
 Bright and early the next morning the 
 boys went to the corn-field and after 
 many attempts finally got Billy har- 
 nessed to the cart and were ready for the 
 second test. Billy reared and fell back- 
 ward. He butted and bowed and bel- 
 lowed, then laid down. 
 
 "Let him rest a while," suggested Aus- 
 tin, "and when he gets up maybe he'll 
 take a notion to go." 
 
 And he did. He went like a whirlwind, 
 jumping and butting, Abe holding to one 
 line and Austin the other, but giving Billy 
 all the freedom he needed. He circled the 
 field and tried to climb the rail fence, but 
 
302 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 the boys pulled him back. They gave him 
 more rein and he scooted away, the boys 
 holding him within the limit of their 
 speed. At the end of the field, Billy 
 stopped suddenly, then plunged high into 
 the air and fell to his destruction upon 
 the sharp stub of a sapling. 
 
 Both boys were stricken with grief, but 
 Abe gathered his wits quickly and said: 
 "It couldn't be helped. Billy did it him- 
 self. There is no need to cry, Austin. 
 We'll come down here after dinner and 
 bury Billy. I tried to be good to him, but 
 he never seemed to like me much. You 
 can have the cart and harness when I go 
 to Indiana, and maybe you'll get a goat 
 sometime, and can break him before he 
 gets too old to learn. I won't have time 
 any more for goats. Father says I am a 
 pretty good chopper and will be a great 
 help to him in clearing the land." 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE END OF PLAYTIME 
 
 The first tinge of frost came with the 
 closing days of September — a sign that 
 the winter would be late. Thomas Lin- 
 coln had never known this sign to fail, and 
 he was well pleased, for he hoped to get 
 comfortably settled in his Indiana home 
 before the severe weather set in. His prep- 
 arations were going forward so slowly, 
 however, that Mrs. Lincoln was becoming 
 much disturbed. The horrors of that 
 February blizzard in 1809 were still fresh 
 in her memory and she was afraid a like 
 disaster might overtake them if they did 
 not reach Indiana before the winter 
 began. 
 
 With the exception of gathering a little 
 bacon here and grinding a little corn 
 
 303 
 
304 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 there, Mr. Lincoln had done nothing in 
 preparation for the journey. And he 
 could do nothing until he procured a horse 
 or mule to hitch to the old spring wagon 
 he managed to pick up at Elizabethtown. 
 That was his chief trouble. He had no 
 money and his only chance to get a work 
 animal was to swap pelts, corn and to- 
 bacco for it. He had tried to make such a 
 trade, but in vain, because the settlers who 
 owned horses and mules needed them. 
 
 Down at the mill Mr. Lincoln was tell- 
 ing his troubles to Mr. Hodgen; but the 
 miller was entirely out of sympathy with 
 the Indiana project, and had often, and 
 heatedly, advised against the move. 
 
 " Thomas," said Mr. Hodgen, "I am 
 much interested in you and your family, 
 and I want to see them comfortable. 
 Now, since I know your mind is finally 
 made up, and nothing short of your own 
 death could change it, I am going to make 
 a proposition to you. You can't make 
 that trip with one horse. Your wagon is 
 
THE END OF PLAYTIME 305 
 
 too heavy. Tour family can't walk, so 
 you must not start with one animal. Now, 
 if you can manage to trade for Jonathan 
 Keith's mule, or any other, I will make 
 Abraham a present of old Fanny. The 
 mare is old but in good condition, and 
 would help pull you out of many a mud- 
 hole between here and your journey's 
 end." 
 
 Mr. Lincoln was most grateful for this 
 unexpected kindness, and promised to get 
 the mule from Mr. Keith, or one just as 
 good. On his way home that afternoon, 
 walking with Abe and Austin, he lifted up 
 his head and thanked God for the good- 
 ness of John Hodgen. 
 
 But Abe said: " Father, you'd better 
 wait until you get the mule, because if you 
 don't get it you can't get old Fanny, and 
 I've heard Mr. Keith say lots of times he 
 wouldn't take anything for that mule." 
 
 "Maybe he won't, but he ought to," re- 
 plied Mr. Lincoln, "because if it hadn't 
 been for us Jonathan Keith wouldn't be 
 
306 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 here. He was nearly dead that day we 
 found him over on the Rolling Fork 
 propped against a tree." 
 
 "Abe was right/' said Mr. Gollaher, 
 "Mr. Keith would not hear of such a 
 thing. Then Mr. Lincoln began to search 
 in earnest and one evening he came home 
 leading a horse that was a sight to behold. 
 Besides being old and thin, it had a 
 twisted foot. Mr. Lincoln had traded a 
 few pelts for it. My father declared he 
 wouldn't give his oldest coonskin cap for 
 the animal, but Mr. Hodgen said he would 
 keep his promise on one condition: 
 ' Feed the horse well for four weeks, then 
 I will examine him, and if I feel that it 
 will be safe for you to start on the jour- 
 ney, I will hand old Fanny over to you, as 
 Abe's property.' And Mr. Lincoln ac- 
 cepted the condition. He thought of 
 nothing now except going to Indiana, and 
 spent practically all of his time looking 
 after the horse. He rubbed it forty times 
 a day and fed it everything he could get 
 
THE END OF PLAYTIME 307 
 
 it to eat. It was surprising, ' ' laughed Mr. 
 Gollaher, "how that old plug felt his oats ; 
 he actually tried to rear up one day ; then 
 I said, 'Abe, you'll be moving pretty 
 soon. ' My father made one more appeal 
 to Mr. Lincoln to wait until spring, but he 
 just shook his head and said, 'I'm going.' 
 
 "Mrs. Lincoln and Sarah didn't men- 
 tion Indiana when they could avoid it, 
 and Abe was as silent as the grave. There 
 was gloom in the little cabin, and all of us 
 felt mighty sorry for the Lincolns," con- 
 cluded Mr. Gollaher. He was silent for a 
 moment, then went on : 
 
 "Out there on the bank of South Pork 
 — close to Cave Spring Parm, in the old 
 cemetery, an infant brother of Abe is 
 buried; his name was Thomas Lincoln, 
 Junior. In recent years we have tried to 
 find the grave, but we never could. Mrs. 
 Lincoln wanted to be buried there; that 
 was one of the reasons she didn't want to 
 settle in Indiana. A few days before they 
 left, my mother, Sarah, Abe and myself 
 
308 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 went with her to say good-by to the grave 
 of her baby. We went in their old spring 
 wagon, pulled by Mr. Keith's mule and 
 one of my father 's. Mrs. Lincoln covered 
 the grave with wild flowers and vines we 
 had gathered along the way. Then we all 
 kneeled down there on the hillside and my 
 mother prayed while Mrs. Lincoln said 
 good-by to the little mound under the 
 sheltering trees. On the way back we 
 stopped at the Old Cave Spring to get a 
 drink of that good water ; and we climbed 
 the hill to the cabin in which Abe was 
 born, that his mother might look on it 
 once again before she left." 
 
 Abe's playtime in the hills had ended; 
 his heart was heavy when he went among 
 them, and he would often weep as he sat 
 upon their moss-covered rocks. His sad- 
 ness deepened and he said little when with 
 Austin, except to beg him to learn to read 
 and write. 
 
 "I, too, was sorrowful," said Mr. Gol- 
 laher; " indeed, I nearly broke down. I 
 
THE END OF PLAYTIME 309 
 
 looked upon his departure with dread. 
 My love for him, which came suddenly 
 into my heart when I was trying to teach 
 him to ride a stick-horse out there on the 
 Cave Spring Farm, was past the under- 
 standing of even my own people. 
 
 "One day he said to me: ' Austin, 
 did you ever hear them tell about how a 
 poor fellow feels the day before he is to be 
 hung? Well, that's the way I feel, only 
 worse. I'm always going to be sad,' he 
 went on, 'but I'm going to try to learn 
 something, and if I do, I am going to 
 teach other little boys to read and write. 
 We won't be together much longer, Aus- 
 tin, and we can't hear from each other; so 
 I'll tell you what we will do. Every 
 morning when the sun comes up, and ev- 
 ery evening when it goes down, you think 
 of me and I'll think of you. You know 
 Mrs. McDougal said she promised her 
 mother to do that when she came here, and 
 she has kept it up ever since. We will 
 just do that,' said Abe slowly, 'and I will 
 
310 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 know you are thinking of me and you will 
 know I am thinking of you — when the sun 
 comes up and when the sun goes down.' " 
 
 Mr. Gollaher says he kept this up for a 
 long time, and thought of Abe with all his 
 strength, and he believed Abe did the 
 same thing. 
 
 "But I reckon he finally quit, because 
 when he grew older he had many impor- 
 tant things to do, among them that of be- 
 ing president of the United States," and 
 the old man wagged his head and 
 chuckled. 
 
 "A million times since he left here I 
 have seen him in these hills with Honey," 
 the old fellow said. "Why, just the other 
 day I went down to Knob Creek — down 
 by the Nice Stone, and there I saw Abe — 
 the boy — with that sad strange expres- 
 sion upon his face, and I whispered, i Abe, 
 you went out into the world on an errand 
 for God, and now you've come back to 
 play with me. Call Honey and we will go 
 out in the woods and pester the squirrels,' 
 
THE END OF PLAYTIME 311 
 
 but just then I heard the dinner horn and 
 I tottered back to the house where I have 
 lived for nearly a century — lived and 
 thought of Abe, and thanked God that He 
 honored me by letting me be Abe's 
 playmate." 
 
CHAPTER XLI 
 
 THE PARTING OF THE WAYS 
 
 The November sun came up over the 
 hills bigger and brighter than usual that 
 morning as if to cast its glints of gold in 
 the path of the Lincolns at they traveled 
 the road to Indiana. 
 
 The spring wagon to which the two old 
 horses were hitched, stood in front of the 
 Lincoln cabin. The cow, securely hal- 
 tered, with Abe and Austin at its head, 
 was ready to follow the wagon over the 
 road to Hodgen's Mill, and on to Middle 
 Creek. 
 
 Mrs. Lincoln and Sarah said good-by 
 to the Gollahers ; Abe had received his last 
 hug from Austin's mother, and all the lit- 
 tle Gollaher children had hugged and 
 kissed him. Mrs. Lincoln and Sarah 
 312 
 
THE PARTING OF THE WAYS 313 
 
 were seated on a bed of straw in the front 
 of the wagon, and all were ready for the 
 departure. 
 
 Mr. Gollaher and Austin were going 
 along as far as Middle Creek, to help with 
 the cow, which was a little unruly, greatly 
 to Austin's delight. With much waving 
 of hands, but in silence, the journey was 
 begun. The tears were rolling down Mrs. 
 Lincoln's cheeks, and Sarah was wiping 
 her eyes with her apron. Thomas Lin- 
 coln and Thomas Gollaher were in the 
 lead. Side by side they walked and talked 
 of their plans. 
 
 On top of the hill— Elm Tree Hill— Abe 
 glanced back for a moment at the cabin 
 home, now deserted, then turned his eyes 
 resolutely to the red clay road that 
 stretched ahead of him and moved along 
 with the free swing of the native back- 
 woodsman. 
 
 They stopped at Hodgen's Mill, where 
 Mr. John and Missus Sarah were waiting 
 for them, with a basket of food for the 
 
314 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 journey. Abe and Austin looked around 
 the old familiar mill. Austin cried a lit- 
 tle, but Abe touched him gently with the 
 palm of his hand as he said : " Maybe it's 
 best for us to go. I may come back some 
 time, and then we'll run the mill for Mr. 
 John." 
 
 Mrs. Hodgen said good-by with tears in 
 her eyes — those great kind eyes that al- 
 ways sought out the ways of goodness and 
 ever looked with love on Abraham. She 
 hugged him close and said : 
 
 "May God bless you, my boy, and di- 
 rect you in paths of righteousness. I feel 
 that you have some wonderful duties be- 
 fore you, and I know you will meet them 
 well." 
 
 " Good-by, Tom: take good care of 
 Mrs. Lincoln and the children — and old 
 Fanny," said John Hodgen. Then he 
 slipped a small gold piece into Abe's 
 hand, saying : ' ' Buy a book with it, son. ' ' 
 
 The cow stopped to drink down at the 
 ford below the gum-spring. The boys 
 
THE PARTING OF THE WAYS 315 
 
 looked up-stream toward the old mill 
 where they had spent so many happy 
 days. Austin's eyes were filled with 
 tears, but Abe did not cry. He was re- 
 signed to the inevitable at last, and so 
 turned his eyes with grim determination 
 to the task before him. 
 
 They reached Middle Creek about noon 
 and had lunch before the final parting. 
 But Abe could not eat ; that heavy "rock" 
 in his breast, of which he so often com- 
 plained, was now heavier than ever. 
 
 "Abraham," pleaded his mother, "for 
 my sake you must eat. You must keep up 
 your strength. I will need you greatly 
 when we are settled. You are a man, my 
 son," she continued, "although in years 
 you are still a child. ' ' 
 
 "Abe obeyed his mother," said Mr. Gol- 
 laher, "but he choked the food down just 
 to please her." 
 
 "Good-by, folks," said Thomas Golla- 
 her; "take care of them, Tom, and God 
 bless all of you." 
 
316 THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN 
 
 "Good-by, Austin," said Abe simply, 
 and the two boys wound their arms 
 around each other. Then Abe broke away 
 and led the cow across the stream, Honey 
 following. 
 
 "I watched them as they ascended the 
 hill," said Mr. Gollaher, "the wagon in 
 front, Abe and Honey and the cow be- 
 hind ; I watched Abe — I watched him till 
 the highest peak of his coonskin cap 
 ducked below the hills, and then I fell 
 upon my father's neck and sobbed." 
 
 THE END 
 
The 
 
 Boyhood 
 
 Abraham 
 Lincoln 
 
 by J. Rogers Gore 
 
 As told by Austin Gollaher, Lincoln's boyhood chum, 
 and faithfully reproduced by the author in a unique, 
 absorbing, and soul-stirring narrative containing the only 
 authentic account of Lincoln's birth and early childhood. 
 
The 
 
 Ooyhood of 
 Abraham .Lincoln 
 
 What were the happenings in the life of 
 Abraham Lincoln from the time of his haz- 
 ardous birth in Hardin (now LaRue) 
 County, Kentucky, up to that sombrous day 
 in September when, in his eighth year, he 
 migrated with his family to Indiana and re- 
 luctantly closed the door forever on the first 
 cherished scenes of his childhood ? 
 
 Until the publication of J. Rogers Gore's 
 appealing and dramatic narrative, "The Boy- 
 hood of Abraham Lincoln," history had 
 never revealed the medley of thrills, near- 
 tragedies, restrained joys, and mildly humor- 
 ous episodes which characterized the life of 
 Lincoln as a boy and so manifestly influenced 
 the qualities of Lincoln as a man. 
 
 Although those early years in the life of 
 Lincoln were most actively formative and 
 impressionable, it is now apparent that 
 chroniclers — otherwise meticulously thor- 
 ough and exhaustively searching — were 
 prone to regard them with the feeling that 
 there could be few, if any, incidents worthy 
 of note in the experiences of a child so 
 young. A striking and somewhat beguil- 
 ing example of the sketchiness with which 
 
this phase of Lincoln's boyhood was treated 
 may be found in "a dictionary of universal 
 knowledge" published as long ago as 1882 
 in which it is stated that "Abraham Lin- 
 coln was born in Kentucky in 1809" and that 
 "his father removed permanently to Indiana 
 in 1806!" One can excuse this amazing 
 anomaly only on the grounds of conventional 
 indifference to immaturity and failure to un- 
 earth the facts — among which it would have 
 been discovered that, at eight years, Abraham 
 Lincoln had developed the physical and 
 mental powers of a youth almost twice his 
 age. 
 
 And so it fell to J. Rogers Gore to recover 
 the missing link in the biographical chain, 
 to faithfully recreate the experiences of an 
 extremely precocious but very human boy and 
 to disclose to the world at large their vital 
 influences in the building of a great and im- 
 mortal character. 
 
 Mr. Gore's source of knowledge was none 
 other than Abraham Lincoln's only boyhood 
 chum, Austin Gollaher, whose memories of 
 a rare and mutual devotion were so keen 
 as to enable the author to faithfully indite 
 a permanent, vivid, and all-absorbing narra- 
 tive. 
 
 In "The Boyhood of Lincoln" the full gamut 
 of human emotions are portrayed with real- 
 ism, sympathy, and inspiring simplicity . . . 
 Abraham, the blue-lipped baby, born in cold 
 and hunger but fortuitously rescued from 
 the grip of death through the kindly minis- 
 trations of an old backwoodsman . . . the 
 boy's miraculous growth from an "eel-like 
 
string of famished flesh" to prodigious 
 proportions of body and mind ... his kind- 
 ness to animals ("unless it was a cow snake 
 trying to rob a bird's nest") ... his in- 
 satiable thirst for knowledge ("we ought to 
 put something in our heads as well as in 
 our bellies") ... his devotion and loyalty 
 to Austin Gollaher, his constant companion 
 in sorrow and joy ... his bed-time prayer: 
 
 "God help mother, help father, help 
 sister, help everybody; teach me to 
 read and write and watch over Honey 
 and make him a good dog; and keep 
 us all from getting lost in the wilder- 
 ness. Amen!" 
 
 . . . his homely philosophy and gentle 
 patience ... his tearful leave-taking of 
 the Knob Creek hills with his family, the 
 cow, and Honey, the dog ! 
 
 These are but a few random gleanings from 
 the only existing record of Lincoln's boy- 
 hood experiences — from a book so refresh- 
 ingly human, so pitifully gripping, so filled 
 with genuine courage as to inspire the high- 
 est ideals in imaginative youth and in the 
 more placid sophisticates as well. 
 
 Illustrated $1.00 
 
 The Standard Press 
 
 220-230 South First Street Louisville, Ky. 
 
<5xcerpts from a few 
 of the reviews of "The Boyhood of 
 Abraham Lincoln : " 
 
 "It is a book that can be read with keen delight." 
 
 Boston American. 
 
 "I recommend this book to Boy Scouts who would know 
 something of the manliness of boyhood; to the old boys 
 of forty and beyond who still have a little of Huckle- 
 berry Finn and Tom Sawyer lingering in their hearts ; to 
 all who would save Lincoln the fate of becoming only a 
 bronze statue, a mere symbol — who would have all of 
 his greatness without the loss of his humanness." 
 
 Springfield, III., Journal. 
 
 "The book is of great interest and of great value as a 
 part of the revealing authentic literature that belongs to 
 the life of this historic world man." 
 
 Washington (D. C.) Star. 
 
 • 
 
 "A valuable contribution of permanent value to what is 
 known of the early years of the great American." 
 
 New Haven {Conn.) Journal. 
 
 "The book is a distinct addition to the great literature 
 that has been inspired by the life of the Nation's most 
 loved figure." Duluth {Minn.) Herald. 
 
 • 
 
 "I had a perfectly lovely evening reading 'The Boyhood 
 of Abraham Lincoln.' Almost any girl or woman would 
 like it. Any boy from 7 to 70 would be thrilled 
 by it. The love of the boy for his dog Honey is one 
 of the most touchingly beautiful things in any boy 
 storv - Fanny Butcher, in Chicago Tribune. 
 
 "Truly the publisher's heart must have beat fast when 
 there came to him the manuscript of this book." 
 
 Chicago Daily News. 
 
 "This book is a distinct addition to Lincolniana and gives 
 us a real contribution to the story of the great soul 
 whom all Americans revere this side of idolatry." 
 
 New York Evening News. 
 
 • 
 
 From Charles W . Moores, of Indianapolis, Indi- 
 ana, a Lincoln student. 
 
 Indianapolis, Indiana, 
 My dear Mr. Gore: October 6, 1921. 
 
 I am proud of this latest edition of my copies of authors 
 copies. The book came out well in print and is a credit 
 to the publishers. I have already said it is a good book. 
 
You may well be proud of it. I wish for you and for it 
 long life and a host of new friends. 
 
 Sincerely yours, 
 
 (Signed) Charles W. Moores. 
 
 • 
 
 Paragraph from a letter from H. H. Rowland, 
 Editor-in-Chief of the Bobbs-Merrill Company, 
 Indianapolis, Indiana. 
 
 My dear Mr. Gore: 
 
 When I finished my work (reading Boyhood manu- 
 script) I said to myself, "This is one best bets for the 
 spring, better than any so-called popular fiction," and I 
 believe it. I want to congratulate you on the way you 
 brought the story to a close. I found my eyes were wet 
 when I turned down the last page. 
 
 (Signed) H. H. Howland. 
 
 • 
 
 From Edson S. Lott, famous President of the 
 United States Casualty Company, New York. 
 
 Mr. J. Rogers Gore, New York, January 9, 1923. 
 
 Care Insurance Field, 
 
 Louisville, Ky. 
 
 My dear Mr. Gore: 
 
 I read your book on the "Childhood of Lincoln," and 
 
 enjoyed it immensely. 
 
 Mrs. Lott read it, and said we must have our grandson 
 
 (now at Lawrenceville preparatory school) read it. But 
 
 Mrs. Lott's mother claimed the next right to read it, 
 
 and she read it, and she was most enthusiastic over it. 
 
 Then my son said he must read it, which he did. He 
 
 pronounced it highly interesting. 
 
 My grandson now has it. 
 
 So you see, my dear Mr. Gore, that you have given 
 pleasure to the whole Lott family. 
 
 / thank you. Most truly yours, 
 
 (Signed) Edson S. Lott. 
 • 
 
 From Rev. William J. Johnstone, D.D., LL.D,, 
 
 St. Paul, Minnesota. 
 
 My dear Mr. Gore: 
 
 I have read and re-read with absorbing interest your 
 book on "The Boyhood of Abraham Lincoln." It is 
 a most valuable contribution to Lincoln knowledge. I 
 am giving a copy to my grandson in St. Paul, Minnesota, 
 and sending another copy to another grandson in Seattle, 
 Washington. I shall use many copies as gifts to boys. 
 Cordially yours, 
 
 (Signed) W. J. Johnstone. 
 
 • 
 
 From Former Attorney General of Kentucky and 
 Present Chancery fudge of Jefferson County. 
 
 Mr. J. Rogers Gore, 
 
 Louisville, Kentucky. 
 
 My Dear Sir: 
 
 I had the pleasure of reading your splendid production, 
 
 "The Childhood of Abraham Lincoln." You have given 
 
to the American people very interesting facts connected 
 with the childhood and life of the great commoner. This 
 book should be read by all American boys and will, in 
 my opinion, be a great inspiration to the young American 
 of this and future generations. I congratulate you. 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 James Garnett. 
 • 
 
 From a Lincoln Student. 
 
 Millersville, Pa., October 8, 1922. 
 My dear Mr. Gore: 
 
 I, as a Lincoln student and collector, have read with 
 much interest your "Boyhood of Lincoln." It is unique 
 and a valuable contribution to Lincoln literature. It gives 
 us much light where before much was unknown. You 
 have done the work well. Lincoln history is your 
 debtor. 
 
 Cordially yours, 
 
 (Signed) John W. Starr, Jr. 
 
 From Dr. Powell, First Christian Church, Louis- 
 ville, Kentucky, 
 
 Louisville, Ky., May 9, 1921. 
 "The Boyhood of Abraham Lincoln" is unique, reliable, 
 inspirational, educative, and should find immediate wel- 
 come in the schools, colleges, and every home where 
 imaginative youth is forming its ideals of life and char- 
 acter. The book is unique in limiting the story to the 
 "boyhood" of Abraham Lincoln. It is not a biography, 
 with one chapter dedicated to birth and parentage and 
 the rest of the book given over to the great achieve- 
 ments of the Debater, the Statesman, the Liberator, the 
 President. On the contrary, the whole book concerns 
 itself with a wonderful boy and the experiences of that 
 boy are thrillingly prophetic in trait and characteristics 
 of the man who "broke the bars of circumstance" and 
 gave an immortal name to mankind. What a boyhood ! 
 What a setting of axe and wilderness and cabin and 
 pioneer life, and plain, hard living, to develop this un- 
 afraid, clean, strong, adventurous boyhood ! It is a 
 reliable story and becomes inspirational and educative 
 because it is not the creation of fancy — as reliable as 
 history. Just this sort of boy was born in an actual 
 blizzard, and we follow on through chapters of incident, 
 pathetic, humorous, to the "Parting of the Ways," 
 assured that we are treading historic ground all the 
 way. The author has done a fine piece of work. Simple 
 in language, reminding one of John Ridd, the hero of 
 Lorna Doone, with real touches of dramatic description, 
 just enough imagination to make vivid and easily re- 
 membered the incident of story or character — really a 
 fine piece of literary work. * * * * * 
 
 E. L. Powell. 
 • 
 
 Editorial — Louisville Evening Times. 
 
 MR. GORE'S BOOK 
 
 If Isom Enlow had not become bewildered by a blizzard 
 and blundered about until he practically fell into a log 
 cabin in LaRue County, Abraham Lincoln would not 
 
have delivered the Gettysburg speech. It is to be doubted 
 that he would have even emitted a baby wail, for Enlow 
 found the newborn baby and its mother in famishing 
 and freezing condition. Thus opens the story of Lin- 
 coln's boyhood days in Kentucky as told to a LaRue 
 County boy by a playmate of the lad who was to go 
 from the backwoods to the White House and to play 
 a tremendous part in the destiny of the world's greatest 
 nation. 
 
 Lincoln was a Kentuckian; so is J. Rogers Gore. The 
 connection will be apparent when the Times makes 
 the suggestion that being a Kentuckian did not militate 
 against the greatness of Lincoln, and should not dis- 
 count Kentucky interest in a Kentuckian's book. 
 
 That a Kentuckian must go away from home to be 
 appreciated is believed by many; that there is some 
 truth in it has been demonstrated by the number of Gov- 
 ernors provided by Kentucky to other states. If these 
 had stayed at home, they could never have been Gov- 
 ernors, for there have not been enough Governorships to 
 supply the demand, even if appreciation had been -pro- 
 nounced. 
 
 However, the important feature of the Lincoln story by 
 Mr. Gore is that it brings into vivid light some pic- 
 tures of Lincoln's boyhood as drawn by a close com- 
 panion and as related by a man who had heard the 
 stories at first hand. Lincoln Ion. 1 is thereby much en- 
 riched. 
 
 That Abraham Lincoln's soul was kept in its frail baby 
 body by the sustenance derived from gun grease melted 
 on a string may be apocryphal, but it is intensely inter- 
 esting. It is at least as well vouched for as was 
 the cherry tree incident in the life of George Wash- 
 ington. 
 
 Mr. Gore's book throws light entertainingly on the early 
 displays of a great intelligence. In homely incidents, 
 such as Abe's knowledge of how to find his way when 
 lost in the woods, one sees parallels in the great man's 
 later solutions of national problems. The Boston Tran- 
 script says the Gore book should be in every Ken- 
 tuckian's library. 
 
 Editorial 
 From the Louisville Courier-] oumal 
 
 LINCOLN'S BOYHOOD 
 
 Books about great men, and some great books, must 
 be plowed through with strong determination. Doctor 
 Eliott says so, virtually, in recommending his five-foot 
 shelf to the resolute reader who seeks enlightenment, 
 not entertainment for an idler merely. But a book 
 about a boy, regardless of whether the boy became a 
 great man, after he suffered the misfortune of being no 
 longer a boy, is interesting reading, and easy reading, 
 provided it presents with reasonable fidelity the salient 
 characteristics of boyhood. 
 
 Abraham Lincoln, as he is depicted in J. Rogers 
 Gore's "The Boyhood of Abraham Lincoln," through 
 the medium of reminiscences of Austin Gollaher,' who 
 
was David to Lincoln's Jonathan when the two were 
 lads, was not Peck's Bad Boy. He was not Tom Sawyer, 
 or Huckleberry Finn. He was an exceptionally good 
 boy, but nevertheless a real one. He was not a saint, 
 albeit not the sinner who is chosen as the hero when 
 the task in hand is to write humorous fiction about 
 boyhood. Being a real boy he was interesting. 
 
 Because he was born in a log cabin in a section of 
 Kentucky which then was upon the American frontier 
 the circumstances in which, and the social conditions 
 under which, he grew to boyhood — Mr. Gollaher's 
 reminiscences stop there, as Thomas Lincoln went away 
 from Kentucky, taking "his beautiful Nancy" and the 
 reluctant Abe with him — are interesting to the reader 
 who seeks entertainment. Because of the faithful de- 
 scriptions of the conditions that existed the student of 
 the life of Lincoln, the great man, hardly will fail to 
 relish the picture of Lincoln, the long-legged boy, whose 
 haunts were Knob Creek and Nolin River. 
 
 Lincoln has gone. Austin Gollaher has gone. Knob 
 Creek and Nolin River still sing their low sweet songs 
 under the arches of greenery in summer. "The Rolling 
 Fork" still goes upon the rampage when it rains. Men 
 on horseback still ride to mill on Nolin. The hitching 
 rack remains institutional. The scenes Lincoln knew, 
 the types he knew, survive near the Cave Spring Farm, 
 and are found easily by anyone who is not held by 
 hoops of steel to main roads and automobiles. 
 
 Nicolay and Hay, Lamont, Hapgood, Tarbell, Holland, 
 Raymond and many others have written "lives" of Lin- 
 coln. Recently Lord Charnwood joined the group of 
 biographers, interpreters, appraisers. 
 
 Despite the fact that Mr. Gore's little book is the 
 simplest of stories, boasting no art beyond its simplicity, 
 easily within the mental grasp of a 10-year-old, it is 
 no mean contribution to the volumnious literature which 
 sheds light upon Abraham Lincoln. 
 
 Because it is easy reading the picture of the boy and his 
 environment is clear and easily retained. 
 
 If Austin Gollaher, idealist, idolizer, makes the back- 
 woods lad the father of the great man it may be said 
 in his defense that it is said universally that the boy is 
 the father of the man. Anyone who will may find by 
 investigation that the depiction of the scenes of Lincoln's 
 boyhood are accurate. Is it not reasonable to believe 
 that there is at least a warp of truth woven with a 
 woof of affectionate fancy in Austin Gollaher's laudatory 
 descriptions of the boy? 
 
 Be that as it may, anyone who has read a book about 
 boyhood which rings true has enjoyed a good book. 
 
 From the Louisville Courier-Journal 
 By Anna Logan Hopper 
 
 A BOY 
 
 For the Ages 
 
 Tennyson, mourning his friend Hallam, who had passed 
 to a "higher orbit," compares himself to "one who was 
 the earliest mate" of a great man, "whose life in low 
 
estate began," and who stands in the furrow wondering 
 "Does my old friend remember me?" This was the 
 literal situation of Austin Gollaher, who between the 
 years of 1812 and 1817 was the boyhood friend of 
 Abraham Lincoln in the hills of LaRue County, Ken- 
 tucky. Mr. Gollaher was born in 1806; he was there- 
 fore three years older than "Abe" who was eight years 
 old, according to this account, when the Lincoln family 
 removed to Indiana. The narrative of Austin Gollaher, 
 as set down by J. Rogers Gore in "The Boyhood of 
 Abraham Lincoln" is a book to fascinate old and young 
 readers and to make its subject a "boy for all ages." 
 
 An explanation of how the facts in this book were se- 
 cured and preserved is given by Mr. Gore in his preface 
 and have been substantiated by Mr. Gollaher's daughter 
 and other citizens of LaRue County, where Mr. Gore was 
 reared. They were collected through a period of several 
 years and preserved a quarter of a century, Mr. Gollaher 
 having died in 1898. With the exception of a news- 
 paper article published by Mr. Gore some years ago, the 
 narrative is new to print and to the public. As an ad- 
 dition to the Lincoln memoirs, it is of enormous interest. 
 
 With the allowance bespoken by the author for "the 
 loving memory of an old man" and for the "dramatized" 
 form in which it is presented, the stories are credible 
 and consistent. The dialogue recreated by Mr. Gore 
 has, indeed, truth of reconstructive imagination more 
 convincing than many accounts claimed to be literal. 
 The expressions and actions attributed to the children, 
 Abe and Austin, are true to childhood and to their 
 locale and condition. The incidents related, although 
 idealistic in tendency, have the ring of reality. These 
 things, the reader feels, are the sort of things that would 
 have happened. And the book is so delightful that he 
 is grateful for whatever vivifying detail has been added. 
 
 Children will love it and they could read nothing more 
 suitable. They will love "Abe," the odd, ugly but 
 wholly livable hero. They will be in sympathy with 
 his protective attitude to animals, and his devotion to 
 Honey, the dog so chivalrously rescued from mistreatment 
 and disaster. The prayer that Abe taught Austin, 
 including the petition "Watch over Honey and make 
 him a good dog," deserves the immortality it is likely 
 to obtain through child readers. 
 
 A remarkable quality of this prayer, like many other 
 features of the narrative, is that it sounds not only 
 like a child but like Lincoln. Such points give im- 
 portant support to the credibility of the stories. 
 
 Photographic illustrations show scenes on Cave Spring 
 Farm where Lincoln was born and in the surrounding 
 hills. There is also a photograph of Austin Gollaher. 
 
 Athertonville, Kentucky, 
 
 To Whom It May Concern: July 13 ' 1920 
 
 This is to certify that I am a daughter of Austin Gol- 
 laher, Abraham Lincoln's playmate, that I have known 
 J. Rogers Gore since childhood, that he was very fond 
 of my father and that he often visited him and talked 
 with him of his and Mr. Lincoln's childhood on Knob 
 Creek. I am sure no one knows as much as Mr. Gore 
 
•of my father's and Mr. Lincoln's childhood in Kentucky, 
 and I am greatly pleased that Mr. Gore has written out 
 these stories, many .of which I have often heard my 
 father tell. Especially am I glad to have preserved 
 the story of Mr. Lincoln's birth during the blizzard. 
 
 Very truly, 
 Mary Gollaher Howell. 
 
 Dr. F. K. Matthews, 
 Director Library Department, 
 Boy Scouts of America. 
 Says: 
 
 "The Boyhood of Lincoln,"as told by Austin Gollaher, 
 once his playmate, through the pen of J. Rogers Gore, 
 makes absorbing reading. It is a book most anybody 
 from nine to ninety would read with keen delight. For 
 youth it is brimming full of inspiration; people more 
 mature will find in it more evidence to prove that 
 Lincoln, though of the people, belongs to the ages, one 
 of the world's immortals." 
 
 Hodgenville, Kentucky, 
 To Whom It May Concern: Ma Y 8 > 1920. 
 
 J. Rogers Gore is to me personally known and has been 
 for many years. He obtained his information for this 
 book from Austin Gollaher, the boyhood friend and 
 playmate of Lincoln, and he took the trouble to secure 
 these first-hand facts at a time when others in the locality 
 made no effort to preserve the history of Lincoln's child- 
 hood. Many of the older citizens of LaRue County 
 heard Gollaher relate some of these incidents, and all 
 knew him as a man of truth and veracity, and not 
 inclined in the least to exaggeration; this is his reputa- 
 tion among all who knew him. Mr. Gore is without 
 doubt the only man living who had many personal 
 talks with Gollaher for the purpose of preserving this 
 first-hand information of Lincoln's boyhood. 
 E. W. Creal, 
 County Attorney of LaRue County 
 
 From Annie Fellows Johnston, Author of the 
 "Little Colonel" Series. 
 
 THE BEECHES 
 
 Pewee Valley, Kentucky. 
 My dear Mr. Gore: June 1, 1921. 
 
 After many interruptions I have at last read your Boy- 
 hood of Lincoln, and I write at once to tell you how 
 greatly it interested and pleased me. 
 
 As the beautiful memorial building at Lincoln Farm 
 •enshrines as its heart the lowly cabin that was his birth- 
 place, so your story of the gentle lovable lad enshrines 
 the beginnings of his greatness. 
 
 After reading it one can never again picture the "mar- 
 tyred president" without seeing in the background the 
 trail to Hodgen's Mill, and the barefoot boy who ran 
 along it with his dog "Honey." The boy, who even 
 then was saying "With charity for all and with malice 
 towards none." 
 
You have done Youth a service in thus lifting the veil 
 which hid his early life and showing that the traits 
 which made him one of the world's greatest figures were 
 his in childhood — that "the boy was father to the man." 
 Your book should be in every school library. 
 With hearty congratulations, 
 
 Very sincerely, 
 
 Annie Fellows Johnston. 
 • 
 
 Chicago Daily News 
 
 The story of the birth of Abe, told as Gollaher heard 
 it from his parents, is in itself a moving and remark- 
 able tale. We believe the book deserving of a wide 
 appreciation, for it is one of the most human stories 
 that we have read this year. 
 • 
 
 Indianapolis News 
 ABOUT LINCOLN'S BOYHOOD 
 
 A description of Abe's appearance as a young boy seems 
 quite in keeping with his later appearance as a man: 
 "His legs were long, his arms were long, his ears were 
 long, and his head was long. He was the longest 
 boy in the world." * * * 
 
 Many readers of the book will find something fitting 
 in Lincoln's birth, in a log cabin, during a howling 
 blizzard, when no one, not even a doctor or the father 
 was near. It seems almost allegorically significant of the 
 struggle which Abraham Lincoln kept up throughout his 
 life. 
 
 • 
 
 The Literary Review 
 
 THE BOY LINCOLN 
 Out of these stories as a whole — and entirely without 
 apparent effort to create it — one gets the impression of a 
 most unusual boy, gentle, sensitive, humane; ungainly 
 and aware of his ungainliness ; passionately desirous 
 of obtaining education; brave, devoted, conscientious. 
 Just the sort of boy who would grow to be such a man 
 as was Lincoln. 
 
 • 
 
 New York Herald 
 
 HIS PLAYMATE WAS YOUNG ABE LINCOLN 
 
 Twenty-five years ago, as a reporter on the LaRue 
 County Herald, Mr. Gore was privileged to gather the 
 memories of Austin Gollaher, Lincoln's boyhood play- 
 mate on Knob Creek. It seems a pity that so much time 
 has elapsed since then before the book was published. 
 It bears the true stamp of the authentic. 
 
 The author, however, feels the need of affidavits. He is 
 not like the toll keeper who allowed the clergy to pass 
 over his bridge. A friend said: "How do you know that 
 a man is a minister?" He replied: "I ask everyone who 
 comes by. If he says he's a minister I let him pass. 
 Ministers don't lie." 
 
 Mr. Gollaher draws rather an unpleasant picture of Lin- 
 coln's father. His wanderlust was responsible for the 
 hardships of Abe's boyhood, but there were noble ele- 
 ments in it. He was no worshipper of Mammon, and his 
 
urge to see new regions had much to do with the 
 development of his sons' character. 
 
 • 
 
 New York Post 
 
 STORIES OF LINCOLN 
 
 "The Boyhood of Abraham Lincoln," by J. Rogers Gore, 
 have never before appeared in print, that they were 
 taken from "the spoken narratives of Austin Gollaher," 
 and are retold in his homely language. Although this 
 leaves their authenticity doubtful we quote a pair of 
 samples. The first is the story of Lincoln and the goat. 
 Lincoln's father, objecting to the animal's presence on 
 aesthetic grounds, the youthful Abe decided to "take 
 him down to the creek and wash him with some 
 lye soap." But a more refractory creature was never 
 brought face to face with an ablution: "I tried to put 
 him in the water, and he just tucked his head down, 
 shoved it against me and pushed me up the hill. He 
 won't go about water. I reckon it's a goat's nature. 
 It's mighty hard you know, to change from the way 
 we are to something else. That's the reason I can't 
 move any faster than I do." 
 
 "ABE" AND THE LOST KNIFE 
 
 Related to this anecdote in the tone and setting is the 
 story of Lincoln and Carl Vittitoe. The latter, having 
 dropped his knife into a spring, appealed to Lincoln 
 to get it out. But having been taunted by Carl with 
 swinging the longest arms in the world and with being 
 "too tall for any good," he paid no attention to the re- 
 quest: "The Vittitoe boy grabbed him by the arm and 
 tore a big hole in his shirt-sleeves. Abe just quietly 
 wound his arms around Carl, carried him to the spring 
 and soused him headforemost into the water. When he 
 brought the boy up, dripping and spluttering, he was 
 holding the knife in his hand." Lincoln justified 
 his action as follows: "You see, when my father has 
 a piece of timber that is too short, he splices it; I had 
 to splice my arm by using yours." The author con- 
 tends that it was after this episode that boys began to 
 call Lincoln "Abe." 
 
 Boston American 
 
 LINCOLN, AS SEEN BY HIS BOY CHUM 
 
 "The Boyhood of Abraham Lincoln," just issued by the 
 Bobbs-Merrill Company, may not be an historically 
 valuable addition to the existing biographies of the Great 
 Emancipator, but it is one that can be read with keen 
 delight by those who venerate his memory. The book 
 was written by J. Rogers Gore, a Kentucky newspaper 
 man from the narrative of Austin Gollaher. 
 
 Gollaher, who died in 1898, was the playmate of Lincoln 
 on Knob Creek, Kentucky. The boys were inseparable 
 from the time Lincoln was three years old and Gollaher 
 was six, until they were separated by the removal of 
 the Lincoln family to Indiana. Gollaher sets the date 
 of this pilgrimage as the Fall of 1817 and disputes 
 previous biographers, who have written that it was a 
 year earlier. 
 
Mr. Gollaher's memories of Lincoln's childhood show 
 that the boy was, in truth, "the father of the man." 
 The melancholy moods, the unerring judgment, the occa- 
 sional flash of humor, the tenderness and loving kind- 
 ness of the man were present in the boy. 
 
 Philadelphia North American 
 
 WITH HONEST ABE IN OLD KENTUCKY 
 "Abe had his likes and dislikes," said Mr. Gollaher, "and 
 while always sympathetic and loving, he was not what 
 might be called a 'goody-goody' boy. He never cringed;, 
 tho he often cried, and met every situation with a heart 
 as strong as God ever put in human breast. 
 
 • 
 
 Philadelphia Evening Ledger 
 
 So far as is known, no earlier narrative despite the mass 
 of Lincolniana, has covered the Great Emancipator's 
 Kentucky career. This book is an authenticated recountal 
 of reminiscences of Austin Gollaher, Lincoln's boyhood 
 playmate. The incidents and adventures are told in the 
 simple, unaffected, homely English of the old gentleman. 
 
 New York Tribune 
 
 LINCOLN AS A BOY 
 
 These anecdotes of Lincoln's boyhood are based upon the 
 author's conversations with Austin Gollaher, a playmate 
 of the martyred President. Told in a homely, simple 
 style, the stories illustrate Lincoln's characteristic 
 qualities: Modesty and courage, humor and tenderness,, 
 and sincerity. 
 
 • 
 
 Bloomington Bulletin 
 
 THE BOYHOOD OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 When seeking information about the boyhood of an 
 eminent personage, where else could one turn than to 
 those who were the friends and companions of his youth. 
 In the proper pride they feel over this intimacy with 
 greatness they will be only too glad to talk on the 
 subject that is closest to their hearts. Happily for the 
 world such a playmate of Abraham Lincoln's boyhood 
 was discovered, and his story taken down and saved for 
 posterity before he passed from the world. 
 
 Austin Gollaher, a Kentucky woodsman, was the person 
 to whom the admirers of Lincoln are indebted. He 
 was three years older than Lincoln, having been born in 
 1806 in LaRue County, Kentucky, and died there in- 
 1898. Mr. Gore, the author of this book, was also a 
 native of Hodgenville, Lincoln's birthplace. He knew the 
 Gollaher family very well and was often at the house. 
 Later while employed on the LaRue County Herald he 
 set to work securing from Mr. Gollaher's lips a con- 
 nected narrative of his recollections of his playmate 
 Lincoln. 
 
 Mr. Gore uncovered a mine of rich ore for practically 
 none of the material he thus obtained had been pub- 
 lished before. This is saying a good deal in regard to 
 
Lincoln about whom more books have been written than 
 about any other historical character except possibly 
 Napoleon. While Mr. Gollaher was an unlettered man 
 he had a vigorous mind and an unusually retentive 
 memory. Mr. Gore says "he talked interestingly and 
 intelligently of his and Lincoln's childhood in LaRue 
 County. In answer to my questions Mr. Gollaher little 
 by little related the narrative quite free from intentional 
 embellishment, I feel sure." 
 
 Boston Herald 
 
 LINCOLN'S BOYHOOD— Old Age Memories of One 
 
 Who Was His Playmate 
 Mr. Gore, formerly a newspaperman in Hodgenville, 
 Kentucky, the town of his birth, has gathered into this 
 volume, not without generous embellishment, stories 
 about the boyhood of Lincoln which were told to him by 
 Austin Gollaher. Mr. Gollaher, who was born in LaRue 
 County, Kentucky, in 1806, and lived there 'till his 
 death in 1898, was a substantial citizen and respected by 
 his neighbors as a man of veracity. He was the boy- 
 hood playmate of Abraham Lincoln. They became 
 "friends" when he was 6 years old, and young Lincoln 3, 
 and were much together until the Lincoln family moved 
 from Kentucky to Indiana in 1816. As a matter of fact, 
 Mr. Gollaher contends that the historians are in error in 
 saying that the Lincolns went to Indiana in 1816, and 
 that it was actually in November 1817, as his mother's 
 diary shows. 
 
 • 
 
 Indianapolis Star 
 
 A READER'S NOTES 
 
 The anecdotes related are happenings incident to 
 pioneer life. Lincoln is said to have been always 
 wanting to know, always ready with an argument, always 
 gentle and tender hearted, but manly also. He was 
 mentally and physically much older than his years. 
 When he went to Indiana, at 8 years of age, he is said 
 to have been as large as the average boy of 15 and was 
 able to do heavy work, such as chopping wood and 
 cutting down trees — probably small ones. 
 
 The story of this boy life is simply but entertainingly 
 told and though it is perhaps especially intended for boys 
 and should please them, it will have a charm for older 
 readers as well. 
 
 • 
 
 Columbus Ohio Citizen 
 
 WHEN ABRAHAM LINCOLN WAS BORN 
 
 Persons interested in the early history of Kentucky have 
 read with surprise, because it's new, a contribution to the 
 life story of Abraham Lincoln which shows that even the 
 birth of the great statesman was attended by the direst 
 difficulties and that mother and babe came near perishing 
 from cold and hunger. 
 
 In his recently published book "The Boyhood of Abra- 
 ham Lincoln" Mr. Gore relates circumstances concern- 
 ing the birth of Lincoln which differ materially from 
 the heretofore accepted tradition. Incidentally, a place 
 
Mr. Gollaher's memories of Lincoln's childhood show 
 that the boy was, in truth, "the father of the man." 
 The melancholy moods, the unerring judgment, the occa- 
 sional flash of humor, the tenderness and loving kind- 
 ness of the man were present in the boy. 
 
 Philadelphia North American 
 
 WITH HONEST ABE IN OLD KENTUCKY 
 "Abe had his likes and dislikes," said Mr. Gollaher, "and' 
 while always sympathetic and loving, he was not what 
 might be called a 'goody-goody' boy. He never cringed^ 
 tho he often cried, and met every situation with a heart 
 as strong as God ever put in human breast. 
 
 • 
 
 Philadelphia Evening Ledger 
 
 So far as is known, no earlier narrative despite the mass 
 of Lincolniana, has covered the Great Emancipator's 
 Kentucky career. This book is an authenticated recountal 
 of reminiscences of Austin Gollaher, Lincoln's boyhood 
 playmate. The incidents and adventures are told in the 
 simple, unaffected, homely English of the old gentleman. 
 
 New York Tribune 
 
 LINCOLN AS A BOY 
 These anecdotes of Lincoln's boyhood are based upon the 
 author's conversations with Austin Gollaher, a playmate 
 of the martyred President. Told in a homely, simple 
 style, the stories illustrate Lincoln's characteristic 
 qualities: Modesty and courage, humor and tenderness,, 
 and sincerity. 
 
 • 
 
 Bloomington Bulletin 
 
 THE BOYHOOD OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 When seeking information about the boyhood of an 
 eminent personage, where else could one turn than to 
 those who were the friends and companions of his youth. 
 In the proper pride they feel over this intimacy with 
 greatness they will be only too glad to talk on the 
 subject that is closest to their hearts. Happily for the 
 world such a playmate of Abraham Lincoln's boyhood 
 was discovered, and his story taken down and saved for 
 posterity before he passed from the world. 
 
 Austin Gollaher, a Kentucky woodsman, was the person 
 to whom the admirers of Lincoln are indebted. He 
 was three years older than Lincoln, having been born in 
 1806 in LaRue County, Kentucky, and died there in 
 1898. Mr. Gore, the author of this book, was also a 
 native of Hodgenville, Lincoln's birthplace. He knew the 
 Gollaher family very well and was often at the house. 
 Later while employed on the LaRue County Herald he 
 set to work securing from Mr. Gollaher's lips a con- 
 nected narrative of his recollections of his playmate 
 Lincoln. 
 
 Mr. Gore uncovered a mine of rich ore for practically 
 none of the material he thus obtained had been pub- 
 lished before. This is saying a good deal in regard to 
 
Lincoln about whom more books have been written than 
 about any other historical character except possibly 
 Napoleon. While Mr. Gollaher was an unlettered man 
 he had a vigorous mind and an unusually retentive 
 memory. Mr. Gore says "he talked interestingly and 
 intelligently of his and Lincoln's childhood in LaRue 
 County. In answer to my questions Mr. Gollaher little 
 by little related the narrative quite free from intentional 
 embellishment, I feel sure." 
 
 Boston Herald 
 
 LINCOLN'S BOYHOOD— Old Age Memories of One 
 
 Who Was His Playmate 
 Mr. Gore, formerly a newspaperman in Hodgenville, 
 Kentucky, the town of his birth, has gathered into this 
 volume, not without generous embellishment, stories 
 about the boyhood of Lincoln which were told to him by 
 Austin Gollaher. Mr. Gollaher, who was born in LaRue 
 County, Kentucky, in 1806, and lived there 'till his 
 death in 1898, was a substantial citizen and respected by 
 his neighbors as a man of veracity. He was the boy- 
 hood playmate of Abraham Lincoln. They became 
 "friends" when he was 6 years old, and young Lincoln 3, 
 and were much together until the Lincoln family moved 
 from Kentucky to Indiana in 1816. As a matter of fact, 
 Mr. Gollaher contends that the historians are in error in 
 saying that the Lincolns went to Indiana in 1816, and 
 that it was actually in November 1817, as his mother's 
 diary shows. 
 
 • 
 
 Indianapolis Star 
 
 A READER'S NOTES 
 The anecdotes related are happenings incident to 
 pioneer life. Lincoln is said to have been always 
 wanting to know, always ready with an argument, always 
 gentle and tender hearted, but manly also. He was 
 mentally and physically much older than his years. 
 When he went to Indiana, at 8 years of age, he is said 
 to have been as large as the average boy of 15 and was 
 able to do heavy work, such as chopping wood and 
 cutting down trees — probably small ones. 
 
 The story of this boy life is simply but entertainingly 
 told and though it is perhaps especially intended for boys 
 and should please them, it will have a charm for older 
 readers as well. 
 
 • 
 
 Columbus Ohio Citizen 
 
 WHEN ABRAHAM LINCOLN WAS BORN 
 
 Persons interested in the early history of Kentucky have 
 read with surprise, because it's new, a contribution to the 
 life story of Abraham Lincoln which shows that even the 
 birth of the great statesman was attended by the direst 
 difficulties and that mother and babe came near perishing 
 from cold and hunger. 
 
 In his recently published book "The Boyhood of Abra- 
 ham Lincoln" Mr. Gore relates circumstances concern- 
 ing the birth of Lincoln which differ materially from 
 the heretofore accepted tradition. Incidentally, a place 
 
in history is provided for Isom Enlow, a courageous 
 pioneer, whose good fortune it was to save the life of 
 the infant Lincoln. 
 
 Boston, Mass., Transcript 
 
 THE BOYHOOD OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 No stories of the boyhood of "the first American" have 
 more clearly visualized the poverty of environment and 
 of circumstance which he conquered in his long hard 
 struggle for self-education. Indeed to many readers Mr. 
 Gollaher's story of the birth of Lincoln, as recorded in 
 "Mother's book of things," will bring the realization that 
 in a way, even rougher than the manger-bed at Bethle- 
 hem, was the rude "shakedown," where one night in 
 February, 1809, while a blizzard raged without, a woman, 
 cold and hungry, bent over her firstborn son. They will 
 find also another reminiscence in the shining of the stars 
 over the young child's head, through the great cracks 
 between the rough-hewn logs that formed the roof of 
 that little shack in Kentucky. 
 
 CTlr'HAT none, save J. Rogers Gore, had obtained at 
 JlL first hand from Mr. Gollaher the graphic and 
 -touching account of Lincoln's birth and boyhood ex- 
 periences was indicative of the discernment of Mr. Gore, 
 who even as a country newspaper boy, very young, 
 understood in a vague way that Gollaher's narratives 
 were of value. He almost unconsciously "scooped" 
 what he believed to be a worthwhile story. No one in 
 Hodgenville was especially interested in Gollaher or in 
 Lincoln, while outsiders who came to see Mr. Gollaher 
 did not take the trouble to go into details with him, 
 nor did they have the time to do so. 
 
 Thus was reclaimed for posterity a missing link of 
 great significance in the history of an Immortal, which 
 is cause for genuine gratitude. 
 
 Every man, woman and child should read "The Boy- 
 hood of Abraham Lincoln," available at the popular 
 price of $1.00. 
 
 ORDER FORM 
 
 The Standard Printing Company, Inc., 
 Louisville, Kentucky. 
 
 Enclosed find check for $ for copies of 
 
 "THE BOYHOOD OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN," $1.00 a copy. Post- 
 paid when payment is enclosed with order. 
 
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