Kentucky Boy 
 
 
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 Abe Lincoln 
 Kentucky Boy 
 
 By Raymond Warren 
 
 Here is the most exhaustive account ever 
 written of the boyhood of Abraham Lin- 
 coln. The Kentucky of pioneer days is the 
 scene, and the period is the most colorful 
 in American history — the heroic time when 
 the early settlers were making their forward 
 thrust into the wilderness. 
 
 Abe Lincoln, the growing boy, is sharply 
 portrayed against his rugged, natural back- 
 ground. In a warm, narrative style, Mr. 
 Warren relates the episodes of his earliest 
 formative years, weaving them into a con- 
 tinuous pattern, colorful and fascinating in 
 itself, but showing also the manner in which 
 the humble origin, hardships and primitive 
 mode of living contributed in the formation 
 of a deathless character. 
 
 Raymond Warren has been warmly com- 
 mended by critics and educators through- 
 out the country for the fine creative in- 
 sight with which, in "The Prairie President," 
 he wrought into a narrative biography of 
 strong human interest the youth and early 
 political career of Lincoln. "Abe Lincoln, 
 Kentucky Boy," was written after careful 
 research at all points in Kentucky where 
 traditions of Lincoln's childhood have sur- 
 vived, and the work has been cordially en- 
 dorsed by the officials of Kentucky Com- 
 monwealth. 
 
 The illustrations, consisting of several full 
 page plates and many incidental drawings, 
 were prepared at the scenes of the historic 
 incidents they picture. Mr. Warren has 
 been widely admired for many years for 
 his historical drawings and paintings. The 
 book will provide both absorbing interest 
 and inspiration for all youthful readers, but 
 no reader of any age will fail to derive 
 from it fresh understanding of the nation's 
 greatest hero. 
 
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LINCOLN ROOM 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 
 LIBRARY 
 
 MEMORIAL 
 
 the Class of 1901 
 
 founded by 
 
 HARLAN HOYT HORNER 
 
 and 
 
 HENRIETTA CALHOUN HORNER 
 
Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2012 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://archive.org/details/abelincolnkentucOOwarr 
 
Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
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 ' ■■.■■■■■■1 Illlllllllllllll Illlllll 
 
 Abe Lincoln, 
 Kentucky Boy 
 
 By 
 
 Raymond Warren 
 
 Illustrated by the Author 
 
 The Reilly 8C Lee Co. 
 
 Ch icago 
 
ABE LINCOLN, KENTUCKY BOY 
 COPYRIGHT, 1931 :: BY 
 THE REILLY & LEE CO. 
 PRINTED IN THE U. S. A. 
 

 To 
 FLEM D. SAMPSON, 
 
 Governor of the Commonwealth of Kentucky, 
 1927-1931, 
 
 UNDER WHOSE LEADERSHIP THE TRADITIONS SURVIVING 
 
 THE YOUTH OF ABRAHAM LlNCOLN HAVE 
 
 BEEN FAITHFULLY SUSTAINED AS 
 
 A LIVING INFLUENCE. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I.— "DARK 'N' BLOODY GROUND" 1 
 
 II.— "DOUBLE- YOKE" 21 
 
 III.— "FEBRUARY 12, 1809" 44 
 
 IV.— NOLIN CREEK 61 
 
 V.— "SCHOOLIN' " 84 
 
 VI.— "OLD TIME RELIGION" 105 
 
 VII.— KNOB CREEK 119 
 
 VIII.— "GOOD-BYE" 143 
 
 EPILOGUE 159 
 
FULL PAGE PLATES 
 
 FACING 
 PAGE 
 
 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy Frontispiece 
 
 Interior of Fort Harrod, at Pioneer Memorial State Park, 
 Harrodsburg 42 
 
 The Museum 42 
 
 The Marriage Temple 42 
 
 The majority of the pupils possessed but one book, a 
 speller 98 
 
 "Ye kin — hev my — fish, if ye want 'era" 124 
 
 In what a strange world the simple country attorney found 
 himself ! 160 
 
 National Shrine at Hodgensville, housing Lincoln's 
 
 birthplace 180 
 
 The Sinking Spring 180 
 
 The Cabin 180 
 
Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 "DARK 'N' BLOODY GROUND" 
 
 {{^TT^HE sun is gittin , hotter V hotter!" But the 
 three boys who uttered this complaint con- 
 JL tinued to work steadily at their tasks. 
 
 While the two larger boys were spading and hoe- 
 ing the field, their father had taken up his faithful ax 
 and was attacking a few charred stumps that remained 
 on the little clearing. Following close behind the man, 
 a little youngster just beyond babyhood gathered up 
 the bits of wood that seemed to leap from these stumps 
 as the ax smote them. 
 
 It was nearing dinner-time on a bright June morning 
 of 1786. The luxurious green foliage of the trees shone 
 resplendent in the Southern sunshine. Great white 
 clouds floated majestically against an azure sky, and 
 sweet music furnished by myriads of birds helped to 
 render the perfumed atmosphere of spring more de- 
 lightful. 
 
2 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 Suddenly there came the ominous sound of a rifle 
 shot. His grip on the ax relaxed, and the man's body 
 crumpled and fell forward in an awkward heap. From 
 a tiny spot on his forehead blood began to flow, stain- 
 ing the soil where he lay — it was in a country where 
 a good deal of the ground had been similarly stained 
 by those who sought to settle it. The shot had rung 
 out apparently from nowhere, and when its victim fell 
 his three sons hurried to his side. 
 
 Mordecai, the eldest boy, stoically explained to his 
 brothers that their father was dead. 
 
 Tommy, the youngest of the trio, screamed. Tommy 
 was not quite eight years old; he alone was too young 
 to comprehend immediately what had happened. 
 
 "Injuns, Mord, Injuns has done it !" sobbed Josiah. 
 
 The trained ears of the older boy detected a faint 
 crackling noise and the light rustle of leaves at the 
 clearing's edge. "Yes, it's Injuns," Mordecai agreed. 
 Then he directed his brother to run to Hughes Station, 
 and summon help. "I'll run home fer th' gun! I'll kill 
 'em! Tommy, you stay here with Pa." 
 
 Without wasting a precious minute thirteen-year-old 
 Josiah dashed away in the direction of the nearby log 
 fort, and Mordecai, who was fifteen, sped toward the 
 cabin. 
 
"Dark V Bloody Ground" 3 
 
 Little Tommy, left alone, began pleading in his child- 
 ish language with his dead father to talk to him — to 
 "say sumfing." He did not see the gaudily-painted 
 Indian who was creeping stealthily out of the bushes, 
 knife in hand, bent upon another murder. 
 
 At that same moment Mordecai dashed into the 
 
 cabin and jerked the rifle from its pegs on the wall. 
 As he thrust its barrel through a crack between the 
 logs, he beheld with added horror the now yelling In- 
 dian with his knife raised above Tommy. Mordecai 
 took deliberate aim and fired. It was a perfect shot 
 and their murderous enemy died instantly. 
 
 So quickly had Mordecai played his heroic part that 
 
4 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 his mother had not understood what it meant. She had 
 been busy cooking at the hearth. In a few broken sen- 
 tences her son explained to her their terrible misfor- 
 tune. 
 
 When Mordecai returned to the scene of the tragedy 
 accompanied by his mother, little Tommy was still 
 clinging to the bleeding form, still pleading with his 
 father to talk to him. Mordecai attempted to console 
 the child by explaining that the Indian couldn't hurt 
 him now. The woman was kneeling over her husband's 
 body, mumbling piteous, incoherent prayers. 
 
 A few minutes later Josiah returned from the fort 
 with several armed men. But there was nothing for 
 them to do, except to offer words of condolence to the 
 victim's widow and the three orphaned boys. Morgan 
 Hughes, who owned and commanded the fort, rever- 
 ently removed his coonskin cap and looked at the body 
 of his neighbor. "Sure 'nuff, boys, it's Cap'n Abraham 
 Lincoln," he said, "He's shot clean through the head." 
 
 "And here's a dead redskin, too!" exclaimed one of 
 the frontiersmen. 
 
 "A Shaw-nee!" chorused his buckskin-clad compan- 
 ions. 
 
 Morgan Hughes spoke violently. "Won't Kaintuck 
 ever git rid of them varmints?" 
 
"Dark 'n' Bloody Ground" 5 
 
 "This here one is a good Injun, now," chuckled one 
 of the men, as he shoved the body of the savage aside 
 with his foot. 
 
 As the men gathered admiringly about him, Morde- 
 cai explained how he had aimed the musket at the 
 crescent-shaped ornament on the Indian's breast and 
 fired. "When I seen him pitch forwards I knowed I 
 had got 'im," the boy added. 
 
 As long as he lived, with the picture of his slain 
 father vividly fixed in his mind, Mordecai Lincoln was 
 the avowed enemy of all Indians; and after he had be- 
 come an old man, strange tales were told of his many 
 encounters with them and how, without compunction, 
 without allowing any quarter, "he always got his In- 
 jun." 
 
 "More of the divils might be in hidin' in them there 
 bushes yet!" suggested one of the party. 
 
 "Shoot into it, boys!" commanded Morgan Hughes. 
 
 There was a rattle of musket shots, but no other 
 sound followed. 
 
 "Wal, here's a sculp fer us, Mr. Hughes," said one 
 of the frontiersmen. The Virginia Legislature was at 
 that time paying a bounty of two dollars each for the 
 scalps of the "varmints." 
 
 Hughes drew his knife from its leather sheath and 
 
6 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 handed it to a long-bearded hunter. The man knelt 
 and removed the scalp from the Indian. 
 
 The woman had by now somewhat regained her 
 composure and, clasping little Tommy closer to her, 
 she uttered thanks to God that her children had been 
 spared. "Oh, it's so hard," she moaned, "so hard. This 
 whole life has been so cruel and hard, and my pore 
 children! What'll ever become of them now in this 
 wilderness ?" 
 
 There are not many pictures sadder than this: a 
 kneeling, heart-broken mother, attempting to console 
 her children as their dead father lay upon the ground, 
 the victim of a skulking savage. It was an incident 
 all too common in the making of America. 
 
 With the fortitude characteristic of our pioneer an- 
 cestors, the widow Lincoln resolved to carry on with 
 the help of her boys. Mordecai, as head of the family, 
 took his father's place in the field. Josiah, too, began 
 to perform a man's labor, and even little Tommy was 
 soon able to make himself useful in many ways. 
 
 Several weeks later, when Colonel Daniel Boone 
 came through Jefferson County, he was told of the 
 death of his old friend, Captain Abraham Lincoln. He 
 was deeply grieved; and, as he had done at many 
 places on similar occasions, he hurried to the Lincoln 
 
"Dark 'n' Bloody Ground" 7 
 
 cabin to offer such consolation as was his to give. Plac- 
 ing his hand gently upon the bereaved woman's shoul- 
 der, he said: 
 
 "Two darling sons and a brother have I lost by sav- 
 age hands, which have taken from me also forty horses 
 and abundance of cattle. Many dark, sleepless nights 
 have I spent, separated from th' cheerful society of 
 men, scorched by summer sun, pinched by winter's 
 cold. We air instruments ordained of God t' settle th' 
 wilderness. He has not died in vain, Mistress Lincoln. 
 Thor's better days a-comin', and in th' House of God, 
 Cap'n Abraham'll be watchin' us; he'll be watchin' this 
 wild country grow into a great empire — the greatest on 
 earth; he'll be watchin' his boys grow up, and the name 
 of Lincoln will spread and grow mighty and Cap'n 
 Abram'll be smilin' down from Heaven." 
 
 Boone had more than his usual reason for lamenting 
 the death of a friend, slain by his traditional enemies; 
 for it was he who had induced Captain Abraham Lin- 
 coln to abandon his productive little farm "back in Vir- 
 ginny" and migrate to the "land of Kaintuck." 
 $ * * * * 
 
 Had Daniel Boone been born about two centuries 
 later, with the same mental make-up, he would have 
 become a real estate promoter, and newspapers would 
 
8 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 probably print full-page advertisements, setting forth 
 in glowing terms his description of idyllic districts, sub- 
 divisions, orange groves, pecan orchards, and what 
 not. Indeed, it would be difficult for a modern copy- 
 writer to surpass his elaborate story of Kentucky and 
 its possibilities as given in his autobiography, which 
 he dictated to John Filson. On its opening page, Boone 
 says: 
 
 Thus we behold Kentucky, lately a howling wilderness, the 
 habitation of savages and wild beasts, become a fruitful field; 
 this region, so favorably distinguished by nature, now become 
 the habitation of civilization, at a period unparalleled in history, 
 in the midst of a raging war, and under all the disadvantages of 
 emigration to a country so remote from the inhabited parts of 
 the continent. 
 
 Here, where the hand of violence shed the blood of the inno- 
 cent; where the horrid yells of savages and the groans of the 
 distressed sounded in our ears, we now hear the praises and 
 adorations of our Creator; where wretched wigwams stood, the 
 miserable abodes of savages, we now behold the foundations 
 of cities laid, that, in all probability, will equal the glory of the 
 greatest upon earth. And we view Kentucky, situated on the 
 fertile banks of the Ohio, rising from obscurity to shine with 
 splendor, equal to any of the other stars of the American hemi- 
 sphere. 
 
 Daniel Boone's claims for Kentucky were not exag- 
 gerated, however; in the course of time his predictions 
 for this "sylvan land" all came to pass, but it took 
 
"Dark V Bloody Ground" 9 
 
 many, many years. To Boone has gone the credit for 
 being mainly responsible for its settlement. 
 
 For more than two hundred years Kentucky has 
 been a country of romance and fable. As early as 1730 
 the French and Indians — a phrase of complete unity — 
 
 
 
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 who had joined their temperaments and lives, went 
 there on hunting expeditions. It was about this time 
 that John Sailings, of Williamsburg, Virginia, while 
 on a hunting party to the Salt Licks of Kentucky, was 
 captured by the Illinois Indians. 
 
 In 1760 Governor Spotswood had crossed the Al- 
 •leghenies and returned to establish in a tavern at Wil- 
 liamsburg, Virginia, a fantastic and elaborate order of 
 
io Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 nobility called the "Knights of the Golden Horseshoe." 
 With worldly wisdom that was scarcely consistent with 
 these affectations of nobility, the Governor urged the 
 British Crown to build a line of frontier forts to guard 
 the Ohio river from the encroachments of the French. 
 
 Many years after this, George Washington, the 
 greatest of all Virginians, crossed the mountains again 
 and became interested in the projects of immigration, 
 which filled the minds of some of the leading men of 
 America until they were forced to abandon these in- 
 terests for more imperative duties connected with the 
 Revolutionary War. Washington had acquired claims 
 and patents to the amount of thirty or forty thousand 
 acres of land in the West. Franklin and the Lees were 
 also large owners of these speculative land titles. 
 
 Unfortunately, their titles formed rather an airy and 
 unsubstantial possession, the same ground often being 
 claimed by a dozen different persons or companies un- 
 der various grants from the Crown, from legislatures, 
 or the purchase from adventurers, or treaties with In- 
 dian councils. It was common for the settlers to select 
 their own sites in the most eligible spots to which 
 chance directed them, with little knowledge of the legal 
 ownership of the land. Too often they cleared a corner 
 of the wilderness for the benefit of others. 
 
"Dark V Bloody Ground" ii 
 
 Even Boone, to whom the Commonwealth of Ken- 
 tucky owed more than to any other man, was deprived 
 in his old age of his lands and hard-earned homestead 
 through his ignorance of land titles and legal forms. 
 Like the majority of the early settlers, his labors were 
 for posterity rather than for himself, and he died in 
 Missouri in poverty. Twenty-five years after his death, 
 which occurred in 1820, the remains of the old pioneer 
 were returned to Kentucky. He sleeps now in the cem- 
 etery at Frankfort, Kentucky, among the many illus- 
 trious citizens of the State for which he had endured 
 so many painful hardships and privations. 
 
 The English in America conquered the French and 
 Indians and then it became necessary for the Colonists 
 to defeat the English; and that, with the assistance of 
 France, they finally accomplished. With the surrender 
 of Lord Cornwallis, at Yorktown, the Revolutionary 
 War was practically over and westward immigration 
 from the seaboard Colonies, especially Virginia, took 
 on new momentum. 
 
 Early in 1780, three hundred "large family boats'' 
 arrived at the Falls of the Ohio where the land had 
 been surveyed seven years earlier by Captain Bullett. 
 Soon afterward the Legislature of Virginia passed an 
 Act for the incorporation of the town Louisville, then 
 
12 
 
 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 containing about six hundred inhabitants. Between 
 1780 and 1781 a large number of families took up their 
 line of march, Kentucky bound, compelled by an in- 
 stinct which they themselves but little comprehended. 
 The new country was to be peopled, and there was no 
 
 other way than by the sacrifice of many lives and for- 
 tunes. 
 
 The ruling motive which led most of them to the 
 wilds of Kentucky was no doubt the Anglo Saxon lust 
 for land, which seems racially inborn. The prospects 
 of possessing a four-hundred-acre farm by merely oc- 
 cupying it, and the privilege of exchanging a basketful 
 of practically worthless Continental currency for an 
 
"Dark V Bloody Ground" 13 
 
 unlimited estate, at the nominal cost of forty cents an 
 acre, were irresistible to thousands of land-loving Vir- 
 ginians and Carolinans. 
 
 Kentucky, at this time, was a vast wilderness dotted 
 here and there at wide distances with settlers' cabins 
 and pole-shed camps. A commercial enterprise, headed 
 by Colonel Richard Henderson, in whose service Daniel 
 Boone was employed, known as the "Transylvania 
 Company," had established a system of blockhouse 
 forts, along the watercourses, which were used as trad- 
 ing posts. Under the peculiar charter of this company, 
 it was given governmental power, and these forts were 
 also used for the administration of justice. 
 
 The only villages were Harrod's Town, Lexington 
 and Louisville. Harrod's Town consisted of a log fort 
 surrounded by a few cabins; and Lexington and Louis- 
 ville might be described in the same way. During this 
 period of his life Daniel Boone, through his many ex- 
 citing adventures, earned his renown as a backwoods- 
 man and Indian fighter. Between 1783 and 1789 fifteen 
 hundred Kentuckians were killed by the savages — 
 "Kentucky, dark 'n' bloody ground!" 
 
 # * * * * 
 
 At the close of the Revolutionary War, Captain 
 Abraham Lincoln was living with his wife and family 
 
14 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 on a 210-acre farm in Rockinham County, Virginia, 
 in the fertile Shenandoah Valley. Ten years before, at 
 the time of his marriage, Abraham's father, John 
 Lincoln — "Virginia John," as he was called, to dis- 
 tinguish him from a relative of the same name — had 
 deeded to his son this land, which was a portion of his 
 own large farm. Within these first ten years, five chil- 
 dren had been born to Abraham and Bathsheba Lin- 
 coln; there was the eldest son, Mordecai, who was born 
 in 1771 ; Josiah, in 1773 ; Mary in 1775 ; Thomas in 1778 ; 
 and Nancy in 1780. 
 
 Abraham Lincoln's title of "Captain" was derived 
 from a commission which he held in the Virginia mili- 
 tia. Although he is known to have served through sev- 
 eral minor Indian Wars, including Lord Dunmore's 
 War, there is no evidence that he saw service in the 
 War of Independence, as did one of his brothers. 
 
 In July, 1776, Daniel Boone entered in his survey 
 book a memorandum of one thousand acres of land in 
 the name of "Lincoln." This land was for Hannaniah 
 Lincoln, a relative of Abraham. Hannaniah Lincoln 
 had been an officer in Washington's army; he had re- 
 tired and invested money in Kentucky land with an 
 ambition to found a great plantation there. 
 
 In Kentucky, Hannaniah became associated with 
 
"Dark 'n' Bloody Ground" 15 
 
 Daniel Boone, and the two men induced Abraham Lin- 
 coln to sell his Virginia farm and invest the proceeds 
 in Kentucky land, which he did. On the 4th of March, 
 1780, at Boone's request, there were issued to Abraham 
 Lincoln three land warrants, numbers 3333, 3334, and 
 3335, each acknowledging receipt of £160, and each 
 entitling their holder to 400 acres of land. 
 
 The Entry Book of Jefferson County shows these 
 two entries of 1780: 
 
 May 29, 1780. Abraham Linkhorn enters four hundred acres 
 
 of land on Treasury Warrant lying on Floyd's Fork, lying about 
 
 two miles above Teice's Fork, beginning at a sugar tree S.B. 
 
 thence east three hundred poles, thence north to include a small 
 
 improvement. 
 
 June 7, 1780. Abraham Linkhorn enters eight hundred acres 
 
 upon Treasury Warrant about six miles below Green River 
 
 Lick including an improvement made by Jacob Gum and Owen 
 
 Diver. 
 
 On October 12, 1784, an official survey was made of 
 his eight hundred acres of land on Green River, in 
 which survey he assisted, and for which he deposited 
 his two Treasury Warrants 3333 and 3335. His patent 
 was issued May 7, 1787, signed by Beverly Randolph, 
 Lieutenant Governor of Virginia. 
 
 The official survey of the land patented under War- 
 rant 3334 was made May 7, 1785, with Captain Lin- 
 coln present and assisting as a "marker." These four 
 
16 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 hundred acres of land are about fifteen miles from the 
 city of Louisville. They are located on Long Run of 
 Floyd's Fork and lie northeast of the little village of 
 Boston. Most of this tract is situated in Jefferson 
 County, but the eastern end projects into Shelby. 
 
 After selecting this last farm, Captain Lincoln re- 
 turned to Virginia to get his family. Heroism in pioneer 
 days must not be wholly ascribed to the male sex. Al- 
 though Bathsheba Lincoln's health was unusually frail, 
 she gave her consent to the sale of the Shenandoah 
 Valley farm and willingly agreed to ride with her hus- 
 band and children through all kinds of weather, over 
 every kind of road but a good one, along the dangerous 
 Wilderness Road through Cumberland Gap and al- 
 most entirely across the land of Kentucky. 
 
 When Cumberland Gap had been passed, the Lin- 
 coln family came upon a land of remarkable and ex- 
 traordinary fertility: the limestone regions of the Ken- 
 tucky River and beyond it, the Bluegrass. The soil 
 was capable of sustaining crop upon crop of wheat, 
 corn, tobacco, clover, hemp, and rye. There was water 
 everywhere and great salt springs. 
 
 The forests seemed endless. Sugar trees, blue ash, 
 black locusts, elms, hickories, walnuts, mulberry trees, 
 paw-paws, and buckeyes, groves of red cedar and taller 
 
"Dark V Bloody Ground" 17 
 
 groves of poplar, stood tall and majestic without un- 
 derbrush. Impenetrable cane breaks were succeeded by 
 the green meadows of wild rye, and buffalo grass dot- 
 ted with the scarlet of cardinal flowers. 
 
 Accompanying the flood of conscientious immi- 
 grants, like the Lincolns, was the usual riff-raff of shift- 
 less idlers and adventurers: men who were either drift- 
 ing along with a current they were too worthless to 
 withstand, or in pursuit of dishonest gains in fresher 
 and simpler regions where they would not be known. 
 
 The vices and virtues of the pioneers were such as 
 proceeded from their environment. They were careless 
 of human life because it was worth comparatively little 
 in their hard struggle for existence. They had, how- 
 ever, a rigidly clear idea of the value of property. 
 Thieves were summarily punished, in accordance with 
 the severest social prescription. For stealing a horse 
 one was more likely to be hanged than for killing a 
 man, because a man might be replaced more easily. 
 
 Sloth was the weakness most condemned. A habitual 
 drinker was far more welcome at "raisings" and at 
 "log-rollings" than a known loafer. The man who was 
 unwilling to do a man's share, when labor was to be 
 performed, was christened "Lazy Lawrence" and he 
 was permanently ostracized socially. 
 
18 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 Cowardice was punished by inexorable disgrace. The 
 point of honor was strictly adhered to, as it was in the 
 oldest and most artificial society of England and 
 France, though weapons were rarely employed in these 
 encounters. If a man accused another of being a "liar," 
 the ordeal by fist-cuffs was instantly resorted to, and 
 teeth and the gouging thumb were usually employed 
 with disastrous results. 
 
 Yet among this rude, uncouth people there was a 
 genuine respect for law, which they recognized as an 
 absolute necessity to their existence. They were the 
 children of a race that had been trained in government 
 for centuries, and wherever they went they formed the 
 town, the county, the court, and the legislative power 
 with the ease and certainty of a baby duck when it en- 
 ters the water for the first time. 
 
 In Kentucky, at several periods of its transition from 
 county to territory and state, the county was without 
 any constituted authority. Yet the people were a law 
 unto themselves. They improvised courts and councils, 
 punished crime and maintained order generally. In 
 fact, the character of the people was far above their 
 circumstances and modes of living. 
 
 Such was the primitive environment into which Cap- 
 tain Abraham Lincoln, his wife and four children had 
 
"Dark 'n' Bloody Ground" 19 
 
 moved. They lived at first in a cabin on the eight-hun- 
 dred-acre farm near Green River Lick, but fear of the 
 Indians had driven them to the smaller farm on Floyd's 
 Fork. There, in 1786, as we have seen, Captain Lin- 
 coln met his death. Thomas Lincoln, orphaned by a 
 treacherous savage, was to become the father of Abra- 
 ham Lincoln, thirteenth president of the United States. 
 
 $ $ aft $ ♦ 
 
 Thomas Lincoln reached maturity very much as did 
 "Topsy" — he just grew up. He could not read, and his 
 writing ability consisted of the scrawling of his own 
 name. From the age of fifteen, he was somewhat of a 
 wanderer. He was first a Kentucky militiaman; then 
 he worked on his uncle's farm in Tennessee for a sea- 
 son. Returning to Kentucky, he contracted for land in 
 Cumberland County, where he was appointed con- 
 stable, only to relinquish both land and office within a 
 few months. 
 
 After drifting into Elizabethtown, seat of Hardin 
 County, Thomas was a farmer, county patroller, and 
 jail guard; all these duties were unpleasant and un- 
 profitable, especially that of patroller, which consisted 
 largely of regulating and whipping runaway slaves. 
 There was a song current at that time among Hardin 
 County slaves, the chorus of which was: 
 
20 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 "Run, nigger, run; patter-roller ketch you — 
 Run, nigger, run; hit's almos' day!" 
 
 In Elizabethtown, Thomas Lincoln, at the age of 
 twenty-eight, found work which he believed he would 
 like. One of his friends, Joseph Hanks, taught him car- 
 pentry, and they became the only carpenters in the vil- 
 lage. At this time he had some money, for his brother 
 Mordecai turned over to him, as his share of their 
 father's estate, 118 pounds, with which he purchased 
 a farm eight miles away. 
 
 Thomas Lincoln was of medium height, compactly 
 built, and inclined to stoutness; his face was round, his 
 complexion swarthy, his hair black and coarse, and his 
 eyes brown. He was popular among his relatives and 
 associates, and bore the reputation of being good-na- 
 tured, law-abiding, and notably honest. But he was 
 ignorant and superstitious, and his hatred for books 
 took the form of a mild obsession. 
 
 In Elizabethtown, this illiterate carpenter was soon 
 "shining up" to Nancy Hanks, a niece of Joseph. She 
 was twenty-three years old, slender, and of average 
 height. Her skin was dark, her hair brown, and her fea- 
 tures regular, with an expression of melancholy which 
 fixed itself in the memory of all who knew her. Accord- 
 ing to her relatives, Nancy Hanks had a "keen mind," 
 
CHAPTER II 
 "DOUBLE-YOKE" 
 
 THE leading citizen of Springfield, seat of Wash- 
 ington County, Kentucky, was Jesse Head. 
 Like Pooh Bah in the light opera, "The Mi- 
 kado," he was a man of many official capacities; he 
 was a Justice of Peace, Minister of the Gospel, Chair- 
 man of the Board of Trustees of the town of Spring- 
 field, and also the jailer. 
 
 One bright morning, late in the month of May, 1806, 
 we find this worthy man in the small frame building, 
 at the rear of his home, which served as his courtroom, 
 pastor's study, and last, but not least, carpenter shop; 
 for, aside from being an ordained Methodist minister, 
 and a magistrate, Jesse Head was one of the best cabi- 
 net makers of all Kentucky. 
 
 Of his varied occupations, cabinet making and the 
 carpenter craft were the most lucrative. The room it- 
 self bore visible evidences of all these various occupa- 
 tions; in the shelves along the wall in neat rows were 
 Jesse Head's books. He is said to have owned the best 
 
 21 
 
22 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 library in Washington County. Here and there on these 
 same walls were fastened various legal notices; cir- 
 culars advertising for runaway slaves and for criminals 
 for whom rewards were offered, notices of foreclo- 
 sures, and lists of tax delinquents. 
 
 On a large bench underneath a double window were 
 scattered an array of wood-working tools: hammers, 
 saws, chisels, and so on. The floor was littered with 
 shavings, sawdust, and scraps of wood. At one end 
 of the room was another bench behind which Judge 
 Jesse Head, with a gavel of his own manufacture, dis- 
 pensed justice, often with a heavy hand. On happier 
 occasions this bench would serve as a rostrum when 
 lovelorn couples called upon the Rev. Jesse Head to 
 be married there. 
 
 Jesse Head, the cabinet maker, wiped his spectacles 
 with a bandana handkerchief, readjusted them to his 
 large nose and eyed his work with critical approval. 
 He was perfectly justified in doing this, for the in- 
 fant's high-chair which he had just finished was an ex- 
 cellent example of pioneer craftsmanship. 
 
 He had taken special pains in making this high-chair 
 which was to be adorned by the child of one of his 
 friends, Beriah Jones. The Rev. Mr. Head had bap- 
 tized this baby. And in the event that it should die, 
 
'Double-Yoke" 
 
 23 
 
 he would be equally capable of making its casket and 
 delivering the funeral discourse afterward. 
 
 No, Jesse Head was not lacking in the business sense. 
 He was prosperous; though an Abolitionist, he owned 
 slaves. Though a temperance advocate, in common 
 with the majority of the back- 
 woods preachers, he would not 
 refuse an occasional "dram." 
 
 If we could have consulted 
 this man's methodical ledger, 
 we would have found that he 
 derived more revenue from the 
 performance of marriage serv- 
 ices and the making of cradles 
 and high-chairs than he did 
 from the preaching of funeral 
 services — an excellent indica- 
 tion that the population of 
 Kentucky was on the increase. 
 
 Thanks to a jingle then current, we are given some 
 idea as to the appearance of this versatile man: 
 
 "His nose is long, his hair is red, 
 And he goes by the name of Jesse Head." 
 
 But, as we have seen, he had far greater claims to 
 distinction. Jesse Head was no saintly, mealy-mouthed 
 
 Jesse Head 
 
24 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 man. He fought both the devil and his earthly dis- 
 ciples. He could eject a rowdy from the service and 
 thrash a bully until he begged for mercy, and then 
 kneel with the culprit, and with tears streaming from 
 his eyes, pray that the merciful God would save the 
 wretch's sinful soul. 
 
 The preacher resumed his work, which now consisted 
 of rubbing down the high-chair with a piece of lime- 
 stone. In this operation he was particularly thorough 
 at the seat of the chair, for the pioneer Kentucky babies 
 did not always wear clothes in summer, and not a splin- 
 ter must remain where little Beriah, Junior, was to sit. 
 
 So intent was Jesse Head at his task that he did not 
 at first hear the knocking at the door of his shop. It 
 was repeated. 
 
 "Who's thar?" he called. 
 
 "Bill Berry from Washington County," replied the 
 voice beyond the door. 
 
 "Come in, Mr. Berry." 
 
 As the visitor entered, the grave countenance of 
 Jesse Head was transformed by a smile. He recognized 
 the tall pioneer. He was Jim Berry's brother, and the 
 Berry boys were among the wealthiest in Washington 
 County. Evidently there was business at hand. 
 
 "What kin I do fer ye, Brother Berry?" 
 
"Double-Yoke" 25 
 
 "We want ye fer a marryin', Parson. " 
 
 "Who do ye want me t' marry?" 
 
 "Friends of ourn from 'Lizabethtown, a feller named 
 Linken — Thomas Linken — and his gal, Nancy Hanks." 
 
 "Ain't this feller Lincoln a carpenter down thar?" 
 asked the preacher. 
 
 "Wal, he claims to be," chuckled Berry. "And he 
 backs up that claim by ownin' the best set o' tools in 
 the whole of 'Lizabethtown." 
 
 "Seems I've heered of the Hanks family, too," said 
 the preacher, eyeing his visitor sharply. "They're kinda 
 onery, ain't they?" 
 
 "Wal, as a gen'l rule the Hanks ain't anything to 
 boast about," admitted Berry. "But Nancy is a good 
 respectable gal, neat and hard workin'. I've knowed 
 her since she was knee-high to a duck. Yes, Nancy is 
 a good gal. Ya needn't have no misgivins' 'bout that, 
 Parson. Tom Linkhorn is a good feller, too; maybe a 
 trifle shiftless, but Nancy'll git that out'n him awright." 
 
 And so it was agreed that the Rev. Jesse Head would 
 be at Beechland — which was the name of the pretty 
 district in which the Berrys lived — on the afternoon of 
 June twelfth. 
 
 £ £ ♦ # * 
 
 Nancy Hanks was visiting Polly Berry, wife of Dick 
 
26 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 Berry, and incidentally plying her vocation as seam- 
 stress in the Berry home. Thomas Lincoln had two 
 brothers living in Washington County, near neighbors 
 to the Berrys, and when Nancy went there to visit he 
 conveniently remembered that he had not visited his 
 kindred for a long time. When the moon looked down 
 upon Beachland during the balmy spring nights of 
 1806, it often spied Thomas Lincoln and Nancy Hanks 
 strolling in the path of its light. 
 
 Finally they decided that, instead of going back to 
 Hardin County to be married, they would have the 
 important event take place in Washington County and 
 travel back to Elizabethtown as husband and wife. 
 That is what brought Thomas Lincoln and Richard 
 Berry to Springfield, and the latter into the workroom 
 of Jesse Head. 
 
 While Mr. Berry was negotiating with the preacher, 
 Lincoln, somewhat bashful on this occasion, had re- 
 mained outside holding the horses. With his compan- 
 ion he had gone through the ordeal at the courthouse 
 of giving the customary bond for the issuance of a 
 license for marriage. There Berry had assumed for the 
 purpose of the certificate, the office of guardian of Nan- 
 cy Hanks, which he had spelled "garden. " 
 
 It was the custom that the person signing the bond 
 
"Double-Yoke" 
 
 27 
 
 with the prospective bridegroom should be a relative 
 or intimate friend. The acting guardian had no legal 
 significance in this instance; Berry had never been so 
 appointed by the court and Nancy Hanks was of legal 
 age and needed no guardian. 
 
 The marriages of this period were solemnized ac- 
 
 cording to certain stringent rules which permitted of 
 no loophole or evasion of any kind. Heavy penalties 
 were imposed for any infraction. The marriage law 
 then operative in Kentucky was the old Virginia law, 
 based on an English law of Henry VIII, enacted in the 
 year of 1540; and although it was repealed by a Statute 
 of Edward VI, and by another of "Bloody Mary," these 
 
28 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 repealing acts were never operative in Virginia and did 
 not displace the law of Henry's reign. 
 
 President Lincoln was destined to die without know- 
 ing in what county his parents were married, and with- 
 out having any tangible proof that they were ever 
 legally married. When he was nominated for the presi- 
 dency in 1860, Samuel Haycraft, county clerk of Hardin 
 County, wrote to him asking if he were not the son 
 of Thomas Lincoln and Sarah Bush. The President 
 replied that Thomas Lincoln was his father, but by an 
 earlier marriage. Although Haycraft had located the 
 record of the later marriage of Thomas Lincoln and 
 Sarah Bush, he was unable to find any record of Thom- 
 as Lincoln and Nancy Hanks. 
 
 Before he became President, Lincoln had made vari- 
 ous inquiries in a vain attempt to locate the marriage 
 records of his father and mother. It was not until 1878 
 when, at the suggestion of one of the old settlers, a 
 search was made among the musty records of Wash- 
 ington County, that the county clerk discovered the 
 bond of Thomas Lincoln for his marriage to Nancy 
 Hanks, together with the marriage returns written and 
 signed by the Reverend Jesse Head as Deacon of the 
 Methodist Church. 
 
 This important discovery came just thirteen years 
 
 
"Double-Yoke" 29 
 
 too late to remove a grave doubt from the mind of the 
 illustrious son of this humble couple. To-day this time- 
 yellowed document may be seen at Springfield. The 
 following is the wording of the bond: 
 
 Know all men by these presents that we, Thomas Lincoln and 
 Richard Berry, are held and firmly bound unto his Excellency, 
 the Governor of Kentucky, in the just and full sum of fifty 
 pounds, current money, to the payment of which, well and truly 
 to be made to the said Governor and his successors, we bind 
 ourselves, our heirs, etc., jointly and severally, firmly by these 
 presents, sealed with our seals, and dated this 10th day of June, 
 1806. The condition of the above obligation is such that, where- 
 as there is a marriage shortly intended between the above bound 
 Thomas Lincoln and Nancy Hanks, for which a license has been 
 issued. Now, if there be no lawful cause to obstruct the said 
 marriage, then this obligation to be void, else to remain in full 
 force and virtue in law. 
 
 Thomas Lincoln. (Seal) 
 Richard Berry. (Seal) 
 Witness, John H. Parrott. 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 No formal invitations were issued for the marriage 
 of Thomas Lincoln and Nancy Hanks; anyone who 
 cared to attend might have done so, strangers being 
 welcomed on the same basis as relatives and friends. 
 A farmer who was riding from Springfield to Eliza- 
 bethtown conveyed a message to Uncle Joseph Hanks, 
 who in turn notified all the others. Word was sent to 
 
30 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 grandmother Bathsheba Lincoln in the same manner, 
 and all the Lincolns became informed. News and gos- 
 sip passed along from neighbor to neighbor, from set- 
 tlement to settlement, with surprising rapidity. Dur- 
 ing court day or a "preaching," news was spread more 
 quickly and to greater distances. 
 
 The date set was a convenient one; spring planting 
 was done, the corn had been plowed, hay and harvest 
 time were not yet at hand. The spring rains were past 
 and the streams were fordable. Summer, with its un- 
 comfortable heat, would not commence for a couple of 
 weeks or more. 
 
 There is no record of those who were present. Wed- 
 dings in the backwoods were more than weddings; they 
 were family reunions and assemblages of friends who 
 hungered for social intercourse. Thomas Lincoln's 
 brothers and their families lived near; to attend would 
 have meant a long ride for his mother, his sister and 
 her husband, with whom she lived, but it would not 
 have been an impossible journey. We may feel sure 
 that Thomas and Betsy Sparrow, Jesse and Polly 
 Friend, and Levi Hall and his wife and Nancy Hanks, 
 the aunt of the bride, who lived within a day's ride, 
 were present. 
 
 The Berry home was a hewn log structure that 
 
"Double- Yoke" 31 
 
 fronted the road a few hundred feet from the ford of 
 Beachfork. A few scattered cabins were near. Below 
 Richard Berry's house, and remaining to this day, was 
 an excellent spring where each of the arrivals no doubt 
 refreshed themselves, and where the men made their 
 outdoor toilet after their dusty ride. Let us reconstruct, 
 in imagination, the scene that took place. 
 
 $ He $ i|e ifi 
 
 The guests had been arriving since sunup and the 
 preparations for the wedding had also begun at that 
 time. The feast was not to be a matter of light refresh- 
 ment, but a great barbecue, and kettles boiled and the 
 ovens reeked throughout the day. When the sun indi- 
 cated the noon hour, a "snack" was provided for those 
 who had arrived. The Berrys were prosperous; food 
 was cheap and plentiful, and as there was no market 
 for surplus perishable food, its cost was not a matter 
 of consideration. 
 
 In the mid-afternoon the guests arrived in greater 
 numbers. The women went into the house, refreshed 
 themselves and prepared to look their best. The men, 
 escorted by one of the Berry negroes, led their horses 
 to the stables, removed the saddles and turned the 
 animals loose to graze in the pastures. 
 
 Those who arrived later, coming probably from no 
 
32 
 
 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 farther than Springfield, hitched their mounts to beech 
 tree limbs. This method left the horses free to fight the 
 flies and if one, in jerking its head, pulled too hard 
 at the tether, the limb was flexible and the animal was 
 not likely to break its bridle rein. Several families 
 came in ox-drawn vehicles. The horses were usually 
 
 not allowed to be alone for 
 very long, for comparison 
 and discussion of live stock 
 and even the swapping of 
 horses were common oc- 
 currences during the back- 
 woods weddings. 
 
 There was plenty of 
 help; the Berrys owned 
 half a dozen slaves, as did 
 the majority of their neigh- 
 bors, who had each loaned 
 them one or two for this 
 occasion. An enormously 
 fat cook, wearing a large 
 red bandana turban, 
 reigned over the cook shed with a huge wooden spoon, 
 the emblem of her authority and the weapon of her 
 defense and offense. 
 
"Double-Yoke" 33 
 
 Outside, in the shade of one of the large trees, sur- 
 rounded by children, an ebony-hued fiddler tuned his 
 fiddle and tested its home-made cat-gut strings. In an- 
 swer to the gibes of some of the wits, he assured them 
 that he intended to keep perfectly sober that evening, 
 although he would give no assurance as to whether 
 the fiddle would do likewise. 
 
 The women sat inside and around the cabin, ex- 
 changing their gossipy chatter, discussing scandals, 
 both ancient and recent, diseases and ailments, their 
 husbands and their children, death and religion. The 
 "men folks" lounged lazily under the trees, shifting 
 their languid bodies with the shade, their small talk 
 probably surpassing that of the women, their imagina- 
 tions being somewhat stimulated by the occasional 
 passing of flasks and an earthen jug. 
 
 According to some of the gossip whispered about 
 that day, Thomas Lincoln had been looking for a wife, 
 and had actually "popped the question" to pretty Sarah 
 Bush, the daughter of old "Chris" Bush, his patroller 
 captain. Sarah had refused. With poor, forlorn Nancy 
 Hanks he had been more fortunate. 
 
 "Who's a-doin' th' marryin'?" asked a buxom ma- 
 tron of thirty. 
 
 "Jesse Head !" replied a chorus of voices. 
 
34 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 "Jesse Head — a Methodist!" exclaimed the buxom 
 one. "Baptists and Methodists is all right fer preachin' 
 a body out o' hell, but it's a heap better fer a priest 
 of th' English Church t' marry ye, iffen ye wants it 
 to be more bindin'." 
 
 "A Methodist married us," declared another woman, 
 "and it's bindin' enough fer me — sometimes too bindin' 
 — an' I've got four younguns t' prove it by." 
 
 "That's nothing" declared a greybeard. "I knows 
 three ole wimmin at Harrodstown who was married 
 time o' th' first settlement thar, and hit's jest as bindin' 
 with them." 
 
 As the sun began its descent into the western hori- 
 zon and the background of the clouds took on a ver- 
 milion hue, a tall, somber, black-clad figure on a bony 
 grey mare appeared on the road. 
 
 "Hit's Jesse Head!" cried several of the men. And 
 so it was. 
 
 Many willing hands would have taken the bridle 
 reins from the preacher as he slowly dismounted, but 
 Jesse Head insisted that he alone knew how to care 
 for the mare. During the summer, he explained, a 
 horse's back might easily scald, and a sore-backed 
 horse was a mighty poor asset to the ministry. The 
 preacher then removed his worn Bible from the saddle- 
 
"Double-Yoke" 35 
 
 bags and walked solemnly toward the log house. 
 
 As soon as the minister had arrived, several of the 
 men began to shout, "It's time to ride for Black Betty !" 
 It was a rollicking backwoods custom to ride for "Black 
 Betty" just before the wedding ceremony. This excit- 
 ing game was played by the young men of the party 
 mounting their horses and galloping over a pre- 
 arranged course to the goal, which consisted of a bottle 
 of the best whiskey, nicknamed, for the purpose of the 
 contest, "Black Betty/' The first man to finish the 
 course claimed the prize, drank, and passed it from 
 rider to rider. All drank toasts to the bride and groom 
 and then proceeded to the scene of the ceremony. 
 
 After this exciting race had been run, the prize 
 claimed and consumed, and hilarious shouts of "Here's 
 to Tom Lincoln!" and "Here's to Nancy Hanks!" and 
 "May ye live happy ever afterwards !" had faded away, 
 all was ready for the "yokin' " of the couple. 
 
 Inside the Berry cabin, near a large stone fireplace, 
 Thomas Lincoln and Nancy Hanks stood before the 
 man within whose power it was to change their status. 
 The groom was dressed in a new suit of homespun 
 wool, and his suspenders, bought especially for this oc- 
 casion, had cost $1.50. The bride wore a white cotton 
 dress of simple material, and her hair was decorated 
 
36 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 with wild flowers. Those who were unable to squeeze 
 into the cabin's single room crowded about the win- 
 dows and the door. 
 
 Jesse Head assumed an imposing air, opened the 
 book, and read the tediously long marriage service. 
 No ring was used in this ceremony, for the discipline 
 of the Methodist Church forbade the "putting on of 
 gold or any costly apparel." And any preacher of that 
 denomination owning a gold watch, unless it were in- 
 herited, would have been summarily dismissed. The 
 marriage vows were both strict and explicit and left 
 little to the imagination. After Thomas Lincoln and 
 Nancy Hanks were pronounced man and wife, and the 
 lengthy prayer which followed had been uttered, the 
 circle closed in. The bride was kissed many, many 
 times. Then came the pleasantest as well as the long- 
 est part of the whole affair — the dinner. 
 
 Another neighbor, John Parrott, now assumed, as 
 Dick Berry had done, the role of honorary guardian, 
 which he pronounced "gardeen." The "infare," still 
 another wedding feast in an amplified form, was to be 
 held at the Parrott home, and the entire party moved 
 over there, with the exception of Rev. Jesse Head. He 
 knew all about these "infares"; in his opinion, they 
 were "very ungodly celebrations." 
 
"Double- Yoke" 37 
 
 An under-sized youth, with the imposing name of 
 Christopher Columbus Graham, who was present, de- 
 scribed the "infare" many years afterward in these 
 words: "We had bear-meat — that you can eat the 
 grease of, and it not rise like other fats — venison, wild 
 turkey and ducks, eggs, wild and tame — so common 
 that you could buy them at two-bits a bushel. There 
 was maple sugar, swung on a string, to bite off for cof- 
 fee or whiskey, syrup in big gourds, peach and honey, 
 a sheep that the two families had barbecued whole 
 over the coals of wood burned in a pit, and covered 
 with green boughs to keep the juice in, and a race for 
 the whiskey bottle. The sheep cost the most, and the 
 corn was raised in what is now Boyle County, at the 
 Isaac Shelby place. ,, 
 
 When the supper was over, the dancing began and 
 lasted until long after midnight. The Beachland dis- 
 trict rang with good old dance tunes such as "Vilikins 
 and His Dinah," "Turkey in the Straw," "The White 
 Cockade," "The Girl I Left Behind Me," "Sugar in the 
 Gourd," "The Money-Musk," and "Hey, Betty Martin, 
 Tip-toe, Tip-toe." The fiddler may not have been drunk 
 but his fiddle surely was. 
 
 Finally the hilarious dancers grew weary, and the 
 musicians* heads slumped over their discordant instru- 
 
38 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 ments. Nancy Hanks noticed that the men, one by 
 one, were slipping quietly out of the house. Those 
 whose movements were somewhat unsteady and uncer- 
 tain were being urged or shoved out into the night, and 
 two or three were being carried. Nancy had become 
 frightened. Many conflicting emotions filled her brain. 
 Her cheeks took on a ruddy tinge and the tears were 
 ready to flow. She felt like running away — to hide. 
 
 The women and girls of the wedding party gathered 
 about her. "We're goin' to bed ya, Nancy!" they chant- 
 ed with hysterical glee. "You're goin' t' git bedded!" 
 
 Nancy remonstrated. "Don't you touch me!" she 
 cried. "Don't a one of ye put your hands on me!" The 
 plea was of no avail. One strong girl on each side 
 grabbed each arm and, with the aid of the others, Nan- 
 cy was half carried and half dragged to the tiny room 
 which was to serve as the bridal suite. There, in a new 
 linen nightgown, she was duly "bedded." 
 
 Presently the noise outside increased, the door was 
 forced open, and Thomas Lincoln was unceremoniously 
 pushed into the room. Outside another quaint song 
 could be heard: 
 
 "When Joseph was an old man, an old man was he, 
 He married the Virgin Mary, th' Queen of Galilee." 
 
 On the 22nd of April, nearly a year after he had 
 
"Double-Yoke" 39 
 
 united Thomas and Nancy Lincoln in "Holy Wedlock, " 
 the Rev. Mr. Head filed his next "marriage return" at 
 the courthouse. It contained the names of sixteen 
 couples whose marriages he had solemnized since the 
 28th of April, 1806. Thomas and Nancy were ninth on 
 the list, to which was attached the signature, "Jesse 
 Head, D.M.E.C." Like the marriage bond, this old 
 record may be seen at the Washington County court- 
 house in Springfield. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Many years rolled away. In the course of time all 
 the Berry family died, their descendants became scat- 
 tered, and their cabin tumbled apart and lay in a de- 
 caying heap. Eventually their property came into the 
 hands of W. A. Clements, of Springfield, Kentucky. 
 One day, in 1911, while on a visit to Beechland, Mr. 
 N. L. Curry, of Harrodsburg, stumbled across these 
 ancient logs. After learning that they had formed the 
 cabin in which the marriage of President Lincoln's 
 parents had taken place, Mr. Curry prevailed upon Mr. 
 Clements to allow him to remove the logs to Harrods- 
 burg, and present them to the Harrodsburg Historical 
 Society. 
 
 Through the cooperation of the public-spirited citi- 
 zens of Harrodsburg, a fund was raised for the rebuild- 
 
40 
 
 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 ing of the cabin on a piece of ground adjoining the old 
 pioneer cemetery. Twenty years later, to protect fur- 
 ther this hallowed cabin, the idea was conceived to 
 erect a shrine to enclose it, and a patriotic woman, Mrs. 
 Edmund B. Ball, of Muncie, Indiana, contributed funds 
 to erect the building. 
 
 The dedication of the Lincoln Marriage Temple, as 
 
 it has been named, was celebrated June 12, 1931, the 
 125th anniversary of the wedding of Thomas Lincoln 
 and Nancy Hanks. It is dedicated to "Marriage"; 
 within its walls a large Bible has been placed "to sym- 
 bolize the sanctity of the home. ,, This impressive dedi- 
 cation ceremony was under the auspices of the Ken- 
 tucky State Park Commission, of which Gov. Flem D. 
 
"Double- Yoke" 41 
 
 Sampson was Chairman and Mrs. James Darnell Secre- 
 tary and Director. The principal speaker of the occa- 
 sion was William N. Doak, Secretary of Labor under 
 President Hoover. 
 
 In his address on that day, Secretary Doak said: 
 "From the marriage solemnized in this little cabin came 
 the fulfillment of the American promise that out of 
 the humble things of life, greatness can spring. Here, 
 a century and a quarter ago, a young man and a young 
 woman pledged themselves one to the other, hopeful 
 of the future for themselves and for their children, but 
 never, probably, daring so much as to dream that of 
 their union would be born a son whose name, like that 
 of the father of his country, would be written in the 
 scroll of the American great." 
 
 The shrine is designed to be a typical example of the 
 quaint brick churches of old Kentucky. The floor plan 
 suggests the shape of a cross, with the cabin placed at 
 its center. The front entrance is a reproduction of a 
 church doorway used early in the nineteenth century. 
 Above the roof is a graceful tower composed of a 
 square base, octagonal belfry, and a long, slender spire. 
 The window panes are of antique glass, tinted with 
 rose and amber. The floor is covered with random 
 stones like the walk leading to the entrance. 
 
42 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 Those who complain that the cabin where Abraham 
 Lincoln's parents were married is now twenty miles 
 removed from its original site, should find consolation 
 in the fact that if it had not been taken to Harrodsburg 
 it probably would not now be in existence at all. Its 
 present location is an ideal one, for there are few 
 visitors to Kentucky who do not include this historic 
 old town in their itinerary. 
 
 Strange as it may seem — for Harrodsburg has but 
 little connection with the Lincolns — there is no place 
 in all Kentucky where the student or tourist can gain 
 a better insight into the boy Lincoln's life than at this 
 place. Here is located one of the most remarkable 
 museums of pioneer history in America. 
 
 On a hill, on land owned by the Commonwealth of 
 Kentucky, Pioneer Memorial State Park contains a 
 remarkable grouping of buildings. To the right of 
 the entrance of the grounds is the marriage temple, and 
 facing it, to the left, is an old colonial mansion which 
 has been converted into a museum, one room of which 
 is devoted to books, relics, and objects of art pertain- 
 ing to Abraham Lincoln. 
 
 Back of these, at the crest of the hill, on the identical 
 spot occupied by the original, stretches an exact replica 
 of old Fort Harrod. In the eight cabins which help to 
 
Interior of Fort Harrod, at Pioneer Memorial State Park, Harrodsbukc 
 
 The Museum 
 
 The Marriage Temple 
 
"Double- Yoke" 43 
 
 form the walls of this log blockhouse fortress, are 
 splendid collections of pioneer furniture and household 
 utensils such as were used by Thomas and Nancy Lin- 
 coln. 
 
 Adjoining this stockade, to the right, is a pioneer 
 burying ground, which, like the town, is the oldest in 
 the State. Many of the original inhabitants of old 
 Fort Harrod are sleeping there under the primitive 
 markers placed over their graves in that long ago time 
 when Kentucky was still "the dark and bloody ground" 
 and the Indians were a constant menace to the dwellers 
 in the fort. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 "FEBRUARY 12, 1809" 
 
 THE wedding festivities and entertaining of the 
 bride and groom, Thomas and Nancy Lincoln, 
 continued for a week. Then came the time 
 for the couple to settle down to the routine of married 
 life. Thomas Lincoln had planned to take his wife 
 back to Elizabethtown, and early one morning they 
 rode away together on the single horse which Thomas 
 Lincoln owned, with Nancy riding behind her husband. 
 
 Elizabethtown, seat of Hardin County, was in the 
 process of evolving from a frontier settlement to an 
 up-to-date town. Costumes of the pioneers still pre- 
 vailed, but here and there, among the buckskin leg- 
 gings, coonskin caps, and moccasins, were to be seen 
 tall beaver hats, short breeches, stockings and low 
 shoes with silver buckles. One man, a lawyer, dressed 
 in the height of London fashion and rode a thorough- 
 bred horse, his negro servant following at the pre- 
 scribed distance. 
 
 While the Lincolns were living in Elizabethtown, 
 
 44 
 
"February 12, 1809" 45 
 
 there was an old ex-slave there who had won his free- 
 dom for his valor in fighting the Indians. Tradition 
 credited him with having killed nine redskins while 
 defending his master's home from attacks. He strutted 
 about — a picturesque reminder of the lurid Indian 
 days — garbed in a faded Continental army uniform, 
 and bearing the name "General Braddock. ,, Though 
 his name was that of the ill-fated Englishman who is 
 remembered mainly because of a defeat which he re- 
 ceived from the Americans, it evidently sounded good 
 to this heroic darky who bore it as proudly as his uni- 
 form. 
 
 Elizabethtown was in the midst of what to-day is 
 called a "boom." While the majority of the houses 
 were of logs, several more imposing buildings were be- 
 ing constructed. One large brick residence, two stories 
 high with marble steps in front, had just been com- 
 pleted. Several other houses from two to three stories 
 high were being built of brick or mill-cut lumber. An 
 expensive stone jail had replaced the primitive log 
 "lock-up" and a new brick courthouse was being erect- 
 ed. There was no lack of work for a good carpenter, 
 and Thomas Lincoln made an industrious start. Sev- 
 enty years later houses were still standing whose door 
 frames had been put in by him. 
 
46 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 "E-town," as it was called, boasted a brick yard, a 
 tannery, and three mercantile establishments. One 
 store was conducted by John J. Audubon, who later 
 gained permanent renown as an artist and ornithol- 
 ogist. Here, during his spare hours, Audubon painted 
 his first water-color pictures of the beautiful birds at 
 that time so abundant in Kentucky. There were four 
 blacksmiths and one gunsmith in E-town; also a tailor 
 and a shoemaker. 
 
 Numerous lawyers of marked ability lived there; 
 in fact, so many lawyers practised in Elizabethtown 
 that one judge made a rule that no more than two at- 
 torneys should appear on one side of a case unless by 
 special permission of the court. The administration of 
 justice was strict, and in addition to the jail, and even 
 more dreaded by evil-doers, there was a whipping post. 
 All the judges and county justices were Calvinistic Bap- 
 tists and each was a large land owner. Religions flour- 
 ished in E-town and throughout Severns Valley, with 
 the Baptists predominating. 
 
 None of these improved conditions of living were 
 adopted by Thomas Lincoln. He and his wife lived in 
 a shed-like house in one of the alleys of the town. 
 Here their first child was born, a girl, whom they 
 named Sarah. This child resembled her father and as 
 
"February 12, 1809" 
 
 47 
 
 she grew older she was remembered as having been 
 short of stature and rather broad. 
 
 During the first year of his marriage, and perhaps 
 for some months before, Thomas Lincoln worked hard 
 and steadily; indeed, he had reached the peak of his 
 sluggish energy. He was provident and had credit at 
 
 -^ 
 
 the village grocery, once paid a doctor's bill, and at 
 an auction bought a "bason," dishes and plates, paying 
 $6.00 for them. At the same sale he bought for $3.00 
 a sword which he probably fashioned into a tool. 
 
 About this time, however, he undertook a labor 
 which would appear to have been beyond his ability: 
 a contract which required accuracy as well as skill. A 
 
48 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 wealthy farmer of the name of Denton Geoghegan, had 
 determined to build a mill and employed Thomas Lin- 
 coln to cut and hew the timbers. When the work was 
 finished Geoghegan was sharply dissatisfied and re- 
 fused to pay Lincoln's bill in full. The job had not 
 been done in a workmanlike manner, he claimed, the 
 timbers being neither square nor of the proper length. 
 
 Such were the allegations made by Geoghegan in his 
 defense of a suit brought by Thomas Lincoln before a 
 Justice of Peace. When the verdict was rendered in 
 Lincoln's favor, Geoghegan appealed to the county 
 tribunal where the judgment was affirmed. But 
 Geoghegan would not yield and retaliated with a suit 
 against Lincoln in the Circuit Court. Several months 
 afterward the dispute was settled by an agreement be- 
 tween the plaintiff and defendant, the former paying 
 the costs. 
 
 This ended Thomas Lincoln's only period of sus- 
 tained and constructive effort. After having lived a 
 year and a half in Elizabethtown, he took his wife and 
 child and the small household belongings and turned 
 his back forever on the bustle and stir of village or 
 town. The remainder of his life was spent on farms. 
 
 While seeking some land to buy, Thomas Lincoln 
 took his family to a farm owned by one of his friends, 
 
"February 12, 1809" 49 
 
 named Brownfield, known as the "Plum Orchard, " sev- 
 enteen miles from Elizabethtown. On December 12, 
 1808, a sort of purchase was made of a 348>^ acre farm 
 known as the "Sinking Spring Farm" on Nolin Creek, 
 in Hardin County, about two miles south of Hodgen's 
 Mill, the present site of the town of Hodgensville. On 
 this land there was a small, one-room log cabin with 
 a clay and stick chimney. 
 
 ***** 
 
 The golden autumn of the year 1808 was followed by 
 a winter of unusual severity. It was nearing the mid- 
 dle of February; the Nolin Creek district was covered 
 with an immaculate blanket of snow; above this snow 
 the cane stood high and feathery; the mistletoe was 
 green and white; winter grapes hung from the trees 
 in dark clusters. The Lincoln cabin appeared more 
 isolated than ever, a dark somber oblong patch upon 
 the white-clad hilltop. 
 
 On the night of the eleventh of February the howls 
 of the hungry timber wolves seemed louder and their 
 effect upon the occupants of the little cabin was more 
 depressing than ever before. It was to be an eventful 
 night in the annals of Thomas and Nancy Lincoln. It 
 was destined to provide one of the most important of 
 American historical events. 
 
50 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 That afternoon Thomas Lincoln had sent a boy on 
 horseback to bring Mrs. Mary LaRue Enlow, the 
 Nolin Creek midwife, but she was attending another 
 case and her daughter, Mrs. Peggy Walters, trained to 
 the work by her mother, came instead. Thomas Lin- 
 coln had first considered calling old Doctor Potter, but 
 as he already owed the physician a few dollars for 
 treating a minor injury, he had decided against "run- 
 nin' up the debt." 
 
 At one end of the crowded little interior of the cabin 
 a rude fireplace of stone sent forth its heat and the 
 pungent odor of boiling gruel. The earth, beaten hard, 
 was the only floor of this shelter. A single square 
 opening in the log walls, covered with oiled paper, was 
 beginning to let in the diffused morning light. 
 
 In a corner opposite the fireplace was an improvised 
 bed, its frame being formed by a crotched stick driven 
 into the ground, upon which the ends of a short and 
 long pole joined and rested, their opposite ends being 
 thrust between the chinked logs of the cabin. Upon 
 this bed lay the motionless form of Nancy Lincoln and 
 her new-born babe. They were not uncomfortable, 
 however. The hickory slats supported a feather bed 
 and mother and child were covered with homespun 
 blankets and "kivverlids" and a buffalo robe. 
 
"February 12, 1809" 
 
 5i 
 
 "Air — air ye shore she's all right, Mis' Walters?" 
 stammered Thomas Lincoln bashfully. 
 The young midwife gave an affirmative nod as she 
 
 placed her right index finger over her lips. She did 
 not wish her patients to be disturbed by the gruff voice 
 of the man. 
 
 Slowly Nancy Lincoln's eyes opened. After a hur- 
 ried glance at the round, pink little head that rested 
 upon her arm, she answered the question. "Yes, Tom, 
 I'm all right, and so is my baby." It was Sunday morn- 
 
52 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 ing, February 12, 1809, and the child had been born to 
 Nancy just before sun-up on that day. 
 
 "You're glad it's a boy, ain't you, Tom?" the mother 
 continued. 
 
 "Yas." 
 
 "So am I." Thomas Lincoln paused and eyed his 
 new progeny somewhat doubtfully. 
 
 "Yas, I'm glad," he said. "Now we kin use the 
 name we couldn't use before. This here baby boy's 
 name is Abraham Lincoln." 
 
 "Abraham Lincoln!" echoed Nancy. Both she and 
 her husband had been disappointed when her first child 
 had been born a girl. They could not give her this 
 name which had been waiting for a boy, so they had 
 selected the name "Sarah" after the wife of "old 
 Abraham in the Bible." 
 
 After breakfast Thomas Lincoln threw more wood 
 on the fire, left the cabin, and walked two miles up 
 the frozen road to where his wife's relations, Thomas 
 and Betsy Sparrow, lived. Dennis Hanks, the nine- 
 year-old nephew of Mrs. Sparrow, met him at the door. 
 
 "Nancy's got a baby boy," drawled Thomas Lincoln, 
 by way of greeting to the Sparrows. 
 
 With a whoop of delight, Dennis Hanks darted 
 through the door and down the road in the direction 
 
"February 12, 1809" 53 
 
 of the Lincoln cabin. Ten minutes later the panting 
 boy stood beside the bed where Nancy Lincoln cud- 
 dled her tiny baby. 
 
 "What you goin' t' name him, Cousin Nancy?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "Abraham — after his grandfather what was killed 
 by th' Injuns." 
 
 Soon Thomas Lincoln returned, accompanied by 
 Betsy Sparrow, and his wife's other aunt, Polly Friend. 
 The midwife had, in the meantime, washed the baby 
 and departed. Mrs. Sparrow had brought along a yel- 
 low petticoat and a linsey shirt, and while Mrs. Friend 
 cooked dried berries with wild honey for Nancy, she 
 dressed the baby. 
 
 That night Dennis and little Sarah Lincoln slept by 
 the fireplace, rolled up in bearskins. The next morn- 
 ing these two children eyed the baby with increased 
 wonder. His sister was too awed to talk. 
 
 "Its skin looks just like red cherry pulp, squeezed 
 dry in wrinkles," declared Dennis. Then he asked if 
 he might hold the baby. 
 
 Nancy passed the little one into the boy's arms. 
 
 "Be keerful, Dennis," she admonished, "fur ye air 
 the fust boy he's ever seed." 
 
 Dennis began to swing the baby back and forth, 
 
54 
 
 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 chattering about how tickled he was to have a new 
 cousin, "jest like a doll, ,, to play with. 
 
 But the baby did not enjoy the first ride, its face 
 became distorted and it began to cry lustily. Dennis 
 hastily handed the baby to Mrs. Sparrow. "Take him, 
 
 Aunt!" he said. "He'll never 
 come to much." 
 
 It was in this unpromising 
 fashion, on one of the lone- 
 liest and remotest spots of the 
 nation, which, as its ruler, he 
 one day would weld into a 
 United States in fact as well 
 as in theory, that Abraham 
 Lincoln was born. 
 ***** 
 Seven months before Abra- 
 ham Lincoln was born, in an- 
 other Kentucky cabin less 
 than a hundred miles away a 
 child named Jefferson Davis came into the world. A 
 strange coincidence! While he was still an infant, the 
 parents of Davis took him to Mississippi and he grew 
 up in that section where slavery was practiced in its 
 most brutal forms. He learned to depend upon negro 
 
 Jefferson Davis 
 
"February 12, 1809" 55 
 
 slaves for the comforts and luxuries of life. When 
 Lincoln was seven years old, he was taken by his par- 
 ents to Indiana, where slavery was forbidden by law; 
 and in that backwoods environment he learned to de- 
 pend upon his own efforts and to be content with life's 
 bare necessities. 
 
 In the course of events the careers of these two men, 
 so long divergent, came together in a mighty struggle. 
 Lincoln became the head of a government which struck 
 the shackles from the slaves. Davis became the head 
 of a government founded in rebellion, which demanded 
 States Rights and the privilege of keeping and exploit- 
 ing slaves. 
 
 Suppose their positions had been reversed, and Lin- 
 coln had been taken to the Southland and Davis to 
 the North; would Lincoln have directed the Confeder- 
 ate forces and Davis those of the Union? Or would 
 Lincoln, living among the slaves, have been just as 
 strongly opposed to slavery? And would Davis, in an 
 environment of freedom, have been as staunch a sup- 
 porter of slavery? No one can answer these questions, 
 but they provide interesting material for speculation. 
 
 In the year 1809 many great characters now in the 
 world's Hall of Fame were born. Charles Darwin, the 
 naturalist and investigator; Edgar Allan Poe, the 
 
56 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 tragic poet; Jakob Mendelssohn, the master of music; 
 Alfred Tennyson, England's Poet Laureate; William 
 E. Gladstone, the British Premier and statesman; Oliv- 
 er Wendell Holmes, the essayist and philosopher, all 
 were born in that eventful year. 
 
 In 1809, Daniel Webster, then twenty-seven years 
 of age, had not entered Congress; but Henry Clay, des- 
 tined to be for many years the political idol of Abra- 
 ham Lincoln, was already, at thirty-two, in the United 
 States Senate, and his illustrious career was well 
 started; John C. Calhoun, also twenty-seven, was still 
 in the Legislature of South Carolina; Robert E. Lee 
 was a child of two years and Ulysses S. Grant was as 
 yet unborn. This period was also productive of men of 
 first rank in European literature and statesmanship; 
 Victor Hugo, Camillo di Cavour, Benjamin Disraeli, 
 Charles Dickens, John Bright, William M. Thackeray, 
 and Prince Bismark were all born within the dozen 
 years centering about 1809. 
 
 It may be coincidence, or it may be a part of the 
 Divine Plan, that six of our outstanding presidents 
 were born in log cabins. These were: George Wash- 
 ington, William Henry Harrison, Andrew Jackson, 
 Millard Fillmore, Abraham Lincoln, and James A. 
 Garfield. This is a fact which emphasizes the profound 
 
''FEBRUARY 12, 1809" 57 
 
 truth of the old adage that real greatness is born in 
 humility and nurtured in solitude. 
 
 $ # # * * 
 
 In the summer of 1861 a picnic was held in the woods 
 of the Richard Creel place, as the Lincoln farm was 
 known during the Civil War period, and the home- 
 made baskets, generously filled with lunch, were as- 
 sembled at the Sinking Spring. During the afternoon 
 there was a discussion concerning the cabin that stood 
 there, and whose logs, several persons present declared, 
 were still in the walls of a barn in the vicinity. Yes, 
 the occupants of that cabin, Thomas Lincoln and his 
 wife, had owned this spring and used this very water 
 many a time, and it was here that their boy, Abe Lin- 
 coln, was born. 
 
 To these good people it seemed mighty queer that 
 the man who was at that minute sitting in the White 
 House and directing a great war in which Kentucky 
 would probably be involved on one side or the other, 
 should have been born on this very spot, and that he 
 and his parents should have drunk and bathed in the 
 water of this very spring. 
 
 One of the party said he had heard that when Lin- 
 coln's parents lived at this place they were "no-count, 
 poor white trash," and perhaps not even married. Old 
 
58 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 Aunt Peggy Walters, another of the group, grabbed 
 her crutch and pulled herself to a standing position 
 that she might answer this cruel imputation the more 
 energetically. 
 
 "Mis' Lincoln wuz a fine woman," she declared. "I 
 knowed her well. We lived jest three quarters of a 
 mile over yonder, and I wuz here right frequent. She 
 wuz a good woman and nobody ever spoke a word agin' 
 her while they wuz livin' here, nor agin' her husband, 
 Tom Lincoln, neither." 
 
 The man who had raised the question hung his head. 
 Aunt Peggy was a woman of sterling character and 
 her word carried weight. 
 
 "Wasn't you here when Abe was born?" asked one 
 of the younger women. 
 
 "I mos' certainly wuz," replied Aunt Peggy emphati- 
 cally, "an' I remember it jest as well as if it happened 
 yesterday." 
 
 Plied with questions, the old lady arose and hobbled 
 about for a few steps. She had a broken hip and it 
 wearied her to sit long in one position. If she was to 
 tell a long story, it was necessary to make herself com- 
 fortable. Presently she again seated herself, laid aside 
 the crutch, and told in her own language the story of 
 the birth of Nancy Hanks Lincoln's baby. 
 
"February 12, 1809" 59 
 
 "I was nigh onto twenty years old then, an* helpin' 
 to bring yung 'uns into the world wuz more of an event 
 than it became afterwards. But I wuz married young 
 and already had one of my own, an' I had helped ma, 
 who, as you all know, wuz famous as a granny-woman 
 in these here parts; an' I had gone several times to help 
 out when I wuz sent fer." 
 
 The old lady paused, shifted her position slightly 
 and continued: "It wuz Saturday afternoon, back in 
 eighteen an' nine, I recolleck clear, when Tom Lincoln 
 sent over an' asked me t' come. I got up behind the 
 boy that rode over t' fetch me, an' I rode across t' the 
 cabin that stood here then. 
 
 "It wuz a short ride over here, less'n a mile. It wuz 
 winter, but the weather wuz mild, but there wuz some 
 snow on th' ground but no snow fell that night. They 
 sent fer me quite as soon as there wuz any need, fer 
 when I got there nothin' much wuz happenin , . ,, 
 
 Aunt Peggy again shifted her position. 
 
 "They sent fer her aunts, Mis' Betsy Sparrow, and 
 Mis' Polly Friend, an' they both come. But as they 
 wuz livin' two miles away, I got there before they did 
 and we all had quite a spell to wait, an' we got every- 
 thing ready that we could. 
 
 "The Lincolns wuz pore folks, but so wuz mos' of 
 
60 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 their neighbors an' they didn't lack anything they 
 needed. Nancy had a good feather bed under her. It 
 weren't a goose feather bed — hardly anyone had 'em 
 then — but good hen feathers. An' she had blankets 
 enough. There wuz a little girl there, two years old; 
 her name wuz Sarah. She went to sleep before much 
 of anything happened." 
 
 The old lady assumed a professional air. 
 
 "Wal, thar ain't much a body kin tell 'bout things of 
 that kind. Nancy she had about as hard a time as most 
 women, I reckon, an' easier than some, an' maybe 
 harder than t'others. I wuz there all that night. It 
 all come along kinda slow, but everything wuz regular 
 all right. The baby wuz born just 'bout sun-up, on Sun- 
 day morning. Nancy's two aunts tuck him and washed 
 an' dressed him, while I looked after his ma." 
 
 Aunt Peggy again pulled herself to a standing posi- 
 tion and with the aid of her crutch, hobbled a few feet 
 away. 
 
 "That's 'bout all there is to tell," she said. "I recol- 
 leck it better than I do some cases that come later be- 
 cause I wuz so young and hadn't had so much experi- 
 ence as afterwards — but I recolleck it all right well." 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 NOLIN CREEK 
 
 THE cabin where Abraham Lincoln was born 
 stood on the edge of a tract of poor land at the 
 crest of a small hill, in a district known as the 
 "Barrens." There were few trees, and in summer the 
 ground was covered by tall, coarse grass. Immediately 
 in front of the cabin the ground sloped sharply down- 
 ward and on the right hand side, at the base of the hill, 
 a spring dropped abruptly from a cave-like channel of 
 rock into another perpendicular opening of rock where 
 it disappeared again into the earth. From this, the one 
 distinctive feature of the farm, the land upon which 
 Thomas Lincoln and his family were living was known 
 as the "Sinking Spring" farm. 
 
 Yet, so unproductive was its red clay soil that it 
 hardly deserved to be called a farm. At that time it 
 was worth one dollar per acre, and to-day its estimated 
 value as farm land is but fifty dollars an acre. Nor 
 was the spot attractive in other respects except, per- 
 haps, for the spring and three or four oaks that grew 
 
 61 
 
62 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 near-by in a hollow. Half a mile distant flowed the 
 south fork of Nolin Creek. Along this watercourse 
 small trees lifted their modest tops and bowed with 
 the breezes — if there were any breezes — and dogwoods 
 here and there sent forth their bright blossoms. 
 
 We may be sure that it was the Sinking Spring which 
 
 determined the location of the house, which was not 
 built by Thomas Lincoln but by a previous occupant 
 of the land. An abundant supply of good water was 
 a paramount consideration in the making of a pioneer 
 home. Aside from the stone steps and the wall which 
 now lead to it, the appearance of this spring has not 
 been changed. From this spring Nancy Hanks Lincoln 
 
Nolin Creek 63 
 
 drew water for the home and trudged with it up the 
 hill to the little cabin. 
 
 * 4 * # * 
 
 There are "round-log cabins" and "square-log cab- 
 ins." In each case the shape of the house itself is the 
 same; the only difference being that the logs are left 
 round or are squared by hewing. Primitive American 
 cabins were practically all unhewn. A cabin of hewn 
 logs was a sign of prosperity. There was not much 
 hewing of the logs that formed the cabin in which 
 Abraham Lincoln lived. 
 
 Log cabins were usually built in the following man- 
 ner: A spot was selected by its prospective occupant 
 and a day appointed for commencing the work of build- 
 ing. A fatigue party was chosen, consisting of clap- 
 pers, whose business it was to fell the trees and cut 
 the logs into proper lengths. A man was hired with 
 teams for hauling the logs to the place and arranging 
 them, properly assorted, for the sides and ends of the 
 building. 
 
 A carpenter, if such he might be called, was sent out 
 to search the woods for a tree from three to four feet 
 in diameter to make clapboards for the roof. The wood 
 of the tree to be used for this purpose had to be 
 straight-grained. The boards were split with a large 
 
64 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 frow as wide as the timber would allow and then sawed 
 into four foot lengths. 
 
 Another group of men was employed in getting 
 puncheons for the floor. This was done by splitting 
 in halves trees about eighteen inches in diameter and 
 hewing the flat split part with a broad-ax. These 
 puncheons were usually half the length of the floor 
 they were intended to make. The materials for the 
 cabin were mostly prepared on the first day and some- 
 times the foundation was laid in the evening. The sec- 
 ond day was allotted to the "raising/' 
 
 On the second morning the neighbors assembled 
 again. The first thing to be accomplished was the se- 
 lection of four cover men, whose business it was to 
 notch and place the logs, the remainder of the company 
 furnishing the timbers. In the meantime the boards 
 and puncheons were collected for the floor and the 
 boards for the roof, so that by the time the cabin was 
 a few rounds high, the sleepers and the floor were be- 
 gun. The door was made by cutting or sawing the 
 logs of the wall on one side so as to make an opening 
 about three feet wide. This opening was secured by 
 upright pieces of timber, about three inches thick, 
 through which holes were bored into the end of the 
 log for the purpose of pinning them fast. 
 
Nolin Creek 65 
 
 A similar opening, but wider, was made at one end 
 for the chimney, which was also built of logs and made 
 large to admit of a back and jambs of stone. At the top 
 of the square, two end logs projected a foot or eighteen 
 inches beyond the wall to receive these butting poles, as 
 they were called, against which were the ends of the 
 first row of clapboards, capping those just below and 
 supported by logs placed as beams at proper distances 
 apart. The roof and the floor were usually finished on 
 the day of the raising. 
 
 The third day was commonly spent by carpenters 
 in laying and leveling the floor, making a clapboard 
 door and a table. This last was made of a split slat 
 and supported by four round legs set into auger-holes. 
 Three-legged stools were made in the same manner. 
 A few pins stuck in the logs at the back of the house 
 supported clapboards which served for shelves for the 
 table furniture. A few pegs were inserted around the 
 walls for the coats of the women and hunting coats 
 of the men. Two small forks or buck-horns, driven 
 into a joist as a rack for the rifle, usually completed 
 the carpenter work. 
 
 In the meantime, masons were at work. With the 
 hard pieces of timber cut from the tree from which the 
 clapboards were made, they made billets for chinking 
 
66 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 up the cracks between the logs of the cabin or chim- 
 ney. A large bed of mortar or clay was then mixed 
 to a proper consistency for daubing up the cracks. 
 A few stones formed the back and jamb of the chimney. 
 
 The cabin being finished, the ceremony of house- 
 warming took place. This consisted of a bountiful din- 
 ner and dance which lasted the whole night through, 
 composed of friends, relatives, and neighbors of the 
 family who was now ready to take possession of the 
 new mansion. 
 
 Fuel was abundant in Kentucky, and if the stick 
 chimney of a cabin caught fire, it was practically cer- 
 tain to occur when the occupants were awake, and the 
 blaze could usually be extinguished with a gourd filled 
 with water. Or, if this failed, the entire chimney could 
 be knocked down with a long pole which was usually 
 provided and which rested beside the chimney for that 
 purpose. Fires did not often occur at night, for the 
 red coals on the hearth were always covered with ashes 
 before the family went to bed. 
 
 Careful housekeepers did not allow their fires to go 
 out. Several years ago in Missouri, where an ancient 
 log cabin was torn down, the fire is alleged to have 
 been burning for eighty years. It was even claimed 
 that before the beginning of that eighty-year period, 
 
Nolin Creek 67 
 
 the fire had been transferred from Virginia, about 1790, 
 in an iron kettle which had hung from the axle of a 
 wagon that had traveled through Cumberland Gap, 
 across Kentucky, and up into Missouri — the fire hav- 
 ing also been used to ignite camp fires along the way. 
 This story should not be taken too literally, for there 
 may have been a few occasions, during that century 
 or more, when it had been necessary to borrow a new 
 fire from a neighbor. 
 
 ***** 
 
 The name Nolin has a quaint history. Among the 
 early settlers in that region was a Baptist preacher, 
 the Rev. Benjamin Lynn. One day he went into the 
 woods and did not return — it was later believed that 
 he had been killed by Indians. A searching party which 
 went to look for him followed his trail until it was lost 
 and the next day returned, sadly reporting, "No Lynn. 
 No Lynn." And that is the way people living along 
 the creek still pronounce its name. 
 
 A mile above the town of Hodgensville, on Nolin 
 Creek, is a knoll, thirty feet above the banks of the 
 stream, containing about two acres of level ground. 
 About the time that Captain Abraham Lincoln, Abe's 
 grandfather, migrated to Kentucky, some of the early 
 pioneers of the region camped on the knoll, and a short 
 
68 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 distance from it a blockhouse fort was erected by John 
 Phillips, a settler from Pennsylvania. Soon afterward 
 came John LaRue from Virginia, with a company of 
 immigrants who settled at Phillips' fort. Robert Hod- 
 gen, LaRue's brother-in-law, purchased and occupied 
 the land upon which Hodgensville was built. 
 
 Phillips, LaRue, and Hodgen were men of sterling 
 integrity and high moral worth. They were zealous 
 members of the Baptist Church, which was presided 
 over by the unfortunate Benjamin Lynn. Such were 
 the influences which had established the character of 
 this district more than two decades before Thomas 
 Lincoln settled there, and these influences have gone 
 far toward stamping upon this community its perma- 
 nent character. 
 
 New Salem, Illinois, Abraham Lincoln's home be- 
 fore removing to Springfield, was one of those towns 
 which he characteristically said "winked out." Not far 
 from his Indiana home, and but a short distance from 
 the point on the Ohio River where he worked as a 
 youth, the city of "Ohiopiomingo" was laid out. It was 
 built on the Kentucky shore, and the location was 
 designated on some of the early maps of the western 
 country. On this frontier of civilization the promoters 
 proposed to develop a city of great beauty. At each 
 
Nolin Creek 69 
 
 of the four corners of the town a lot was laid off for 
 the "reception of the Indians. " 
 
 Near Lincoln's boyhood home on Knob Creek, some 
 English speculators proposed to build a magnificent 
 city called "Lystra." Its avenues were to be one hun- 
 dred feet wide, with the houses set back from the street 
 a specified distance. Lots were reserved for churches, 
 a college, public buildings and park sites. "Lystra," 
 though it never came into being, appeared on one early 
 map as the most prominent town in Kentucky coun- 
 try, and "Ohiopiomingo," the queen of the frontier, 
 never became much more than a name. 
 
 Adjacent to the Nolin Creek farm, which Thomas 
 Lincoln bought in 1808, there was established the town 
 of "Burlington/' Similar to the two efforts already 
 mentioned, it was little more than a "paper city." This 
 brings us to the odd tale of two towns struggling for 
 economic supremacy, unconscious of the much greater 
 honor which was to be the reward of the survivor. 
 
 On the same day, December 9, 1788, four years be- 
 fore Kentucky became a state, two men walked into 
 the courthouse at Bardstown, in Nelson County, and 
 presented petitions for the establishment of mills on 
 Nolin Creek. One of these men was Robert Hodgen. 
 Around the mill of Hodgen there grew up a settlement 
 
70 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 which was to bear his name. Near the mill of John 
 Close, the other pioneer, a community gradually took 
 form which was to be known as Burlington. 
 
 The will of Robert Hodgen, dated February 1, 1810 
 — a year after the birth of Abraham Lincoln — gave 
 to his wife, Sarah, "the plantation where I now live, 
 together with the grist mill." On February 7, 1818, 
 the widow, as executor of the estate, petitioned the 
 justices of Hardin County for the founding of a town 
 on the Hodgen Plantation. Two days later the follow- 
 ing record was written: "A town is established on the 
 lands of Robert Hodgen, deceased, on Nolin, agreeable 
 to the said petition and plan which is to be ordered 
 to be entered on records, to be called Hodgensville." 
 
 On July 1, 1816, John Welsh bought 100 acres of 
 land, including the mill site formerly owned by John 
 Close. Welsh also purchased 250 acres adjoining this 
 tract. This property was adjacent to the Sinking Spring 
 farm. The Welsh holdings were soon in litigation, and 
 it is from depositions in the suit that the story of 
 Burlington has been unearthed. 
 
 There is revealed in these depositions a description 
 of the community in which Abraham Lincoln was 
 born. The settlement near Close's Mill boasted a tav- 
 ern. One of the deponents testified that "it was con- 
 
Nolin Creek 71 
 
 sidered a good stand for some time. It was a very 
 public place." A question by the plaintiff gives a good 
 description of this settlement: "At one time the place 
 was noted as a good stand. Was there not a ball bat- 
 tery and race paths and did you not understand that 
 I immediately destroyed the battery and race paths 
 much to the advantage of the neighborhood ?" 
 
 Further evidence shows that there was a large dis- 
 tillery, a blacksmith shop, and a store in the settle- 
 ment. The birthplace of Abraham Lincoln, but half 
 a mile away, probably was not such a desolate place 
 as many of his biographers have imagined. 
 
 The old trail, known as Cumberland Road, which 
 passed immediately in front of Thomas Lincoln's cabin 
 door, missed the site of Hodgensville by at least three 
 miles. A later change in the location of the roadbed 
 directed the travel by Hodgen's Mill, or Hodgensville. 
 This soon resulted in the collapse of Burlington. In 
 1843 the southeastern part of Hardin County, includ- 
 ing that portion containing the Lincoln farm, was set 
 apart and formed into another county, called "LaRue," 
 and Hodgensville was made the county seat. 
 
 It was, therefore, at the expense of Burlington that 
 Hodgensville attained fame as the birthplace of Abra- 
 ham Lincoln. Yet Lincoln never saw the town of Hod- 
 
72 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 gensville; his family had left Kentucky before it had 
 come into existence. After his nomination for the 
 Presidency, when he tried to tell where he was born, 
 he stumbled over the spelling of the name, calling it 
 "Hoggensville." 
 
 Although the mill operated by Robert Hodgen was 
 there in Lincoln's day, the Lincolns did not patronize 
 it, a mill operated by a man named Kirkpatrick being 
 nearer. Hodgensville is now a town of 1,100 population. 
 It has come to fame because of a man whom it never 
 knew and who never knew of its existence until many 
 years after the event which will forever link their 
 names. 
 
 9]C *F 3|B 5JC S|S 
 
 The name "Lincoln," in common with all other 
 names, often was misspelled in the backwoods. Pro- 
 nunciations showed strange perversities, and the spell- 
 ing varied with the pronunciation. But Thomas Lincoln 
 in every instance signed his name Lincoln, and so did 
 his father, and so did his grandfather Abraham, and 
 so did his great-grandfather Mordecai, and so did the 
 first American ancestor of this branch of the Lincoln 
 family, Samuel Lincoln, of Hingham, Massachusetts. 
 
 The misspelling "Linkhorn," and the other Ken- 
 tucky variants of the name, have no significance in re- 
 
Nolin Creek 73 
 
 gard to nationality or family lineage. In a newspaper 
 article published throughout New England, of the date 
 of May 30, 1910, James M. Lincoln stated that he had 
 found in early Massachusetts documents the following 
 spellings of the name: Linkon, Linkhorn, Lincol, Lin- 
 clon, Lincorn, Linkoln, Linkclon, Linkord, Linkhoom, 
 Lincon, Linclin, Lancoln, Lincham, Lincolem, Link- 
 hon, Linkton, Lincolan, Linchorney, Linckhorn, Lenks, 
 Linchorn, Lincolin, Linkalon, Linklon, Linckin, Lin- 
 colon, Linculor, Linkhoren, Lincott, Linckhornew, 
 Lincornew, Lynklyn, Linckomeal and Lincoln. 
 
 Pioneerdom also evolved its own quaint language. 
 The talk of the Lincolns was similar to that of their 
 neighbors, who invented and used words and expres- 
 sions which have continued among certain isolated 
 communities to this day; and some of those words have 
 since found their way into the dictionaries. They called 
 themselves "pore folks. " Children were always "young- 
 uns." Anyone that was learned was "eddicated." If 
 a man were feeble he was "powerful weak," and if he 
 grew better, he was "fitter." A silent man was a "say 
 nothin\" 
 
 Anything that was certain was "sartin." In planting 
 time they "drapped" seeds and at harvest they "geth- 
 ered th' craps." They went on errands and "brung," 
 
74 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 or "fetched," or "fotched" things back. Fruit became 
 "spiled," and pampered children were described with 
 the same word. When a person was cheated or de- 
 frauded he was "horn-swoggled." "How do you 
 do" was expressed by the exclamation "Howdy!" One 
 might remain at a place any length of time and it was 
 a "spell." You came "outen" and not "out of" a house. 
 Where there was much or many of anything, there was 
 a "heap." Wages were "yearned," not earned. 
 
 Those who spoke correct English instead of this 
 wilderness lingo were considered "puttin' on." Many 
 of these expressions remained in Abraham Lincoln's 
 vocabulary throughout his lifetime. He began his fa- 
 mous Cooper Union address by saying "Mister Cheer- 
 man." On an earlier occasion, during his debates with 
 Douglas, when the shorthand reporter, whose name 
 was Hitt, had not arrived to take down his speech, 
 Lincoln asked impatiently, "Ain't Hitt here?" He did 
 not, however, use any of these backwoods words or 
 expressions in his correspondence or in the manuscripts 
 of his speeches. 
 
 $ # * * * 
 
 The bleak days of February dragged into the windy, 
 disagreeable March. And then came April, its sun- 
 shine spreading a brighter outlook upon the hills and 
 
Nolin Creek 75 
 
 valleys, and upon life generally. The infant Abraham 
 had developed normally from the first day of his exist- 
 ence; his pulp-colored skin had bleached to a healthy 
 pink and his eyes shone like two great pearl buttons. 
 They were eyes that seemed to see everything. Within 
 a few weeks of his brief existence the little tot began 
 to issue commands, commands which, though uttered 
 only in queer little noises and wails, were readily un- 
 derstood. He always knew when he was hungry. 
 
 When the warm spring weather came, Nancy Lincoln 
 bathed her little ones at the Sinking Spring. This was 
 always a delightful experience to Sarah. But when 
 little Abe was put into the wooden bucket of sun- 
 warmed water, he would clench his mother's fingers 
 and kick and scream to his full lung capacity; and his 
 little body, which in form resembled very much that 
 of a frog, would become brick-red in color. 
 
 After the first wabbly steps had been taken, there 
 came to his parents more fully the realization that he 
 was a "human bein\" He therefore had a soul like 
 other folks, and it was the duty of his parents to safe- 
 guard that soul — to save it from the danger of "hell- 
 fire." And so, on a hot Sunday afternoon in June, Tom 
 hitched his team of horses to the wagon and drove his 
 family over the rough roads to the Severn Valley Bap- 
 
76 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 tist Church. There, at the close of a long-winded ser- 
 mon by the Rev. William Dodd, little Abraham was 
 duly baptized in accordance with the rites of the Bap- 
 tist Church. 
 
 This important day in his life was not appreciated 
 by the child and during the ceremony he squirmed and 
 yelled in the same way that he did on bath-day at the 
 Sinking Spring. After the baptism, the entire congre- 
 gation filed up to the rostrum and shook hands with 
 Brother and Sister Lincoln, many of them patting the 
 head of the new member of the Church, declaring that 
 he was "a nice little feller/' 
 
 The baby was not without his toys, and although 
 they cost nothing, he no doubt enjoyed them just as 
 much as do the children of the wealthy of to-day, with 
 their playthings upon which a great deal more human 
 ingenuity and money have been lavished. His rattle 
 wasn't purchased, "it growed." It was a gourd which 
 had been plucked from the vine and allowed to ripen 
 before it had reached its full growth. 
 
 He may have seen an elephant before he was a year 
 old. On the 24th of June, 1809, an elephant which was 
 being taken through Kentucky was put on exhibition 
 at Elizabethtown, and the settlers from the surround- 
 ing countryside flocked there to see the "curious crit- 
 
Nolin Creek 77 
 
 ter." The trustees of Elizabethtown, always with an 
 eye toward gathering revenue, entered upon the record 
 book that they had received "from the proprietor of 
 the Elephant nine dollars, as a contribution for the 
 benefit of the town." It is probable that Thomas and 
 Nancy Lincoln and their two children were among 
 those who journeyed to the county seat to view this 
 huge visitor. 
 
 To-day Kentucky is called "the land where the horse 
 is king." It was always a horse country and a race- 
 course was operated in Hardin County as early as 1802. 
 There is still in existence an old "Corn List, Made and 
 Run For on Middle Creek" in 1810, the year after Abra- 
 ham Lincoln was born. The original document reads 
 as follows: 
 
 We the undersigners, wishing to improve the breed of horses 
 in Hardin County, do for that purpose, propose a course, race 
 to be run on Martin's turf on Middle Creek, on the third Thurs- 
 day, Friday and Saturday in October next, to be free for any 
 horse, mare or gelding, owned by any residenter of Hardin 
 County at this time : to run the first day three miles and repeat, 
 the second day two miles and repeat, the third day one mile 
 and repeat. To be run under the rules and direction of the 
 Lexington Jockey Club, for which we, the undersigned, do 
 oblige ourselves to pay the quantity of corn opposite our names, 
 to the winners by their demanding it, between the first day of 
 December next and the twenty-fifth, as witness our hands this 
 13th day of August, 1810. 
 
78 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 This "Corn List" contains the names of thirty promi- 
 nent Hardin County citizens, and opposite each name 
 is written the number of bushels of corn subscribed, 
 amounting in all to 520 bushels. We may feel sure that 
 Thomas Lincoln and all his neighbors were present on 
 Martin's turf for this exciting sporting event, provided, 
 of course, that church members in good standing were 
 permitted to attend. As some of the leading church 
 workers' names appear on the list, it is probable that 
 they were allowed to see the race as long as they did 
 not take part in it. 
 
 Naturally, toy horses were favorites with the chil- 
 dren of the pioneers. During the first summer of his 
 son's life, Thomas Lincoln fashioned for him a whole 
 herd of cornstalk-horses. These were made by cutting 
 the cornstalk into pieces six inches in length to form 
 the body, the narrower ends being cut in one-inch 
 lengths to serve as heads; these heads were joined to 
 the bodies by twigs which formed the necks. Four 
 twigs of the same length made the legs and two short 
 twigs were pushed into each head for ears. Cornsilk 
 supplied these "animals" with luxurious tails. 
 
 Abe's next toy horse was a stick horse, its crude 
 head carved by his father, which he could ride. Ani- 
 mated by its owner's thin little legs, it could run, trot, 
 
Nolin Creek 79 
 
 gallop, and jump. Sarah had a stick horse, too. And 
 often the two children would hold races, exciting races 
 like those great events their father had witnessed at 
 Lexington and often described to them in glowing 
 terms. 
 
 Ballads are the poetry of the primitive people. This 
 was particularly true of the pioneer Kentuckians, and 
 the songs they sung are popular to this day. They 
 seem to have no individual author, but are the evolved 
 product of many generations, harking back to old Eng- 
 land and Scotland. Ballads like them could not arise 
 in a cosmopolitan community. They were handed down 
 through the generations from singer to singer, without 
 either book or manuscript. But in thus weathering the 
 storms of time, some of them have undergone queer 
 changes and transformations. 
 
 Such were the songs that Nancy Lincoln sang as 
 she coddled her children during the lonely hours. After 
 he had attained the Presidency, Abraham Lincoln, 
 when making mention of his mother, would usually 
 recall the old songs that she sang, and at times would 
 even clumsily attempt to sing some of their verses. 
 Nancy Lincoln's favorite, according to her son, was 
 "Barbara Allen." Other songs which he remembered 
 were "Lord Bateman and the Turkish Lady," "Three 
 
80 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 Thousand Years Ago," "Fair Eleanor," and "Froggie 
 Went A-Courting." 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 When Thomas Lincoln bought the Sinking Spring 
 farm, three months before Abraham Lincoln was born, 
 he made a down payment of two hundred dollars and 
 assumed a note for fifteen pounds, twelve shillings, and 
 fourpence from Isaac Bush, a resident of Elizabeth- 
 town. 
 
 Previous to this, Bush had bought the land from a 
 man named Vance, and Vance in turn had bought it 
 from Richard Mather, a large holder of Hardin County 
 land. Vance had given his promissory note to Mather, 
 dated May 1, 1805, and due eighteen months after date 
 "in good trade," Mather agreeing to give Vance a war- 
 ranty deed for the farm when the remainder of the pur- 
 chase price should be paid. When Bush bought the 
 farm from Vance, it was with the understanding that 
 he assumed this obligation, and Thomas Lincoln is sup- 
 posed to have dealt with Bush knowing that the lat- 
 ter had not as yet paid the note. 
 
 It was, therefore, with this encumbrance that the 
 farm came into the possession of Thomas Lincoln. 
 Mather filed a suit to collect the note, naming Vance, 
 Bush, and Lincoln, and as the first-named had left 
 
Nolin Creek 8i 
 
 Kentucky, the responsibility fell upon Bush and Lin- 
 coln. 
 
 On September 7th, 1813, Thomas Lincoln filed an 
 answer to this suit in which he admitted that he knew 
 that Mather had lien upon the land as claimed, but 
 that he had been informed that Vance had made partial 
 payment. He had offered, he said, to pay Mather the 
 remainder and the latter had agreed to accept it, but 
 had brought suit before Lincoln could "make arrange- 
 ments. " Lincoln further declared that it was his be- 
 lief that Mather brought suit only for the purpose of 
 getting cash instead of payment in trade. Bush sup- 
 ported Lincoln in his statement. 
 
 In his replication, Mather denied the statements of 
 both Lincoln and Bush in so far as they contradicted 
 any statements in his own bill of complaint. Without 
 waiting for trial and judgment Thomas Lincoln left 
 the Sinking Spring farm and, with his family of three, 
 moved to his next place of abode, the third within six 
 years. Three years later the farm on which Abraham 
 Lincoln was born was sold under a court decree for 
 $87.74, which represented the remainder of Vance's 
 debt to Mather plus interest and costs. 
 
 Why Thomas Lincoln sacrificed this farm for so 
 small a sum after having paid $200.00 on it, would 
 
82 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 seem to defy rational explanation, especially since he 
 had expressed his willingness to pay the amount still 
 due Mather, which was only $61.50, and the sale of 
 the Mill Creek farm had brought him 100 pounds at 
 that very time. 
 
 The only land known to have actually been owned 
 in Kentucky by Abraham Lincoln's father was located 
 on Mill Creek in Hardin County, and the title was ob- 
 tained from John Stator, September 2, 1803. But this 
 land was never occupied by him or his family. On 
 October 27, 1814, it was deeded by Thomas and Nancy 
 Lincoln to Charles Melton, whose family continued to 
 live there for two generations. It became known as 
 the "Melton Place/' 
 
 In all the years of her life in Kentucky, Nancy Lin- 
 coln never was permitted to spend a year, or even a 
 day, under a roof that she could legally call her own. 
 During the first twenty-five years she lived among rela- 
 tives. The cabin in Elizabethtown, to which her hus- 
 band took her after their marriage, and where she lived 
 until her first child was born, was rented. On the 
 Brownfield farm they were also tenants. While the 
 Sinking Spring farm, where Abraham Lincoln was 
 born, was occupied by his parents, the equitable title 
 rested with another man. The Knob Creek land, to 
 
Nolin Creek 
 
 83 
 
 which they now moved, was occupied by the family 
 without title, as far as is known. 
 
 Nancy Lincoln could well have sung, with a personal 
 application, that old camp-meeting hymn: 
 
 "No foot of land do I possess, 
 
 No cabin in this wil-der-ness, 
 
 Till I my Canaan gain." 
 
CHAPTER V 
 "SCHOOLIN' " 
 
 IT was in the spring of 1812 that Thomas and 
 Nancy Lincoln, with little Sarah and three-year- 
 old Abe, moved from the farm on Nolin Creek 
 to another on Knob Creek, a distance of twelve miles, 
 within the same county. On the face of it, the move 
 would seem to be an unimportant shifting of a migrat- 
 ing family from one small farm to another. But to one 
 who journeys over the roads and becomes acquainted 
 with the environment, it is apparent that the transfer 
 from a rough farm to another a little less rough was 
 an important event. 
 
 Their removal transferred the family across a gigan- 
 tic stone escarpment facing the Bluegrass, called Mul- 
 draugh's Hill, which divides the Barrens from the 
 lower and heavily timbered land to the northward. 
 This vast cliff is pierced by a valley four miles in length 
 and from a quarter of a mile to two miles in breadth, 
 the high hills, abrupt and mountainous, rising on either 
 side. Lengthwise through the valley, Knob Creek, deep 
 
 84 
 
"Schoolin"' 85 
 
 and rapid, hurries to the Rolling Fork, a larger stream 
 at the valley's end. 
 
 The soil is extremely rich and productive, being 
 formed of silt carried from the surface of the hills, the 
 product of decomposing vegetation through the cen- 
 turies. Some of the little triangles of land that pro- 
 ject from Knob Creek into the surrounding hills are 
 unsurpassed in fertility; the mere dropping of a seed 
 with the slightest cultivation is sufficient to yield a 
 crop. In this fertile valley, Thomas Lincoln had se- 
 cured a thirty-acre tract, consisting of three fields, the 
 largest of which consisted of seven acres. 
 
 The Lincoln cabin stood on the opposite side of the 
 road from the large stone house which was afterward 
 erected and is still standing. This farm remains prac- 
 tically unchanged to this day, and is easily located. The 
 Lincoln's new outlook was toward the prosperous set- 
 tlements of the Roman Catholics in the neighborhood 
 of Bardstown, sixteen miles away. 
 
 Bardstown, seat of Nelson County, has many claims 
 to fame. There the lover of architecture finds numbers 
 of old Georgian and Georgian-Colonial houses still 
 standing along wide streets. On every hand are re- 
 minders of the day when the little town held a posi- 
 tion of national importance, politically and socially. 
 
86 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 To-day the keenest interest at Bardstown gathers 
 about "My Old Kentucky Home/' the lovely residence 
 of the Rowan family, where, later, Stephen Foster 
 wrote the song whose name the place now bears. It is 
 a house of great dignity and grace, set simply among 
 trees. It is so typical of the fine old Kentucky homes 
 and so rich in historic memories that it would have 
 merited preservation as a State shrine even if the song 
 had not been written there. 
 
 Thomas Lincoln found conditions on Knob Creek 
 a little better than in the Nolin Creek home. The fron- 
 tier life was well defined and there is no uncertainty 
 concerning its details. Here Thomas Lincoln actually 
 scratched the surface of the three little fields. He used 
 a wooden plough shod with iron. His main crop was 
 corn. The corn was cultivated with a "bull-tongue" 
 plough. 
 
 Thomas Lincoln also planted potatoes and a few 
 onions, and Nancy had a small vegetable garden and 
 a few flowers. Her husband worked his little farm, not 
 industriously but with sufficient labor to produce each 
 season a little crop. Occasionally he went, by invita- 
 tion, to do a job of carpenter work, but Nancy worked 
 at home every day. When they had sheep, she carded, 
 spun, and wove. In the absence of wool, she knew the 
 
"Schoolin' " 87 
 
 uses of "buffalo-wool." But it must not be supposed 
 that Nancy was over-worked. 
 
 The amusements of the Knob Creek settlers were 
 so conceived as to get needed work done — to "kill two 
 birds with one stone. " The felling of a splendid for- 
 est to make clearings left quantities of logs that could 
 not be used for cabins or stables and these were burned. 
 So, at "log-rollings" every able-bodied man turned out 
 and helped, ate, drank, and made merry when the logs 
 were gathered and set on fire. The same thing hap- 
 pened at the cabin "raisings." 
 
 Cornhuskings were also scenes of great enjoyment. 
 Men and boys were chosen by two captains and thus 
 divided into equal groups. Each strove to husk the 
 largest number of ears. Songs were sung, stories re- 
 lated, and crude jokes told. Sugar-boilings, wool- 
 shearings, and hog-killings were scenes of similar fes- 
 tivity. Among the women, quilting-bees and spinning 
 contests were times equally to be enjoyed. At these 
 latter, tradition says that Nancy Hanks generally bore 
 on her palm the spool that held the longest and finest 
 thread. 
 
 When Abe was still very small his father decided 
 it was time for him to learn to work, and he was put 
 to such chores as helping his mother carry water from 
 
88 
 
 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 the spring, and going into 
 the woods to gather small 
 pieces of wood for fuel. 
 By the time he was six 
 years old he was doing 
 some of the lighter work 
 in the field. Long after- 
 ward, when he had become 
 a prominent man, Abra- 
 ham Lincoln laughingly 
 said: "My father taught 
 me how to work, but he 
 
 never taught me to love it." 
 
 To Abe, the highroad was always a delightfully in- 
 teresting place; there was always so much to see there. 
 This road was the main artery of travel between Louis- 
 ville and Nashville. It was much traversed by many 
 kinds of people, and some of them were so different 
 from the folks on Knob Creek that they seemed rather 
 to be a procession of characters out of fairy stories 
 such as the boy's mother read to him, or from the songs 
 which she sang. 
 
 Handsome carriages rolled past, pulled by glossy 
 horses in glittering harness, bearing beautiful, elab- 
 
: 'Schoolin'" 
 
 89 
 
 orately gowned women and handsome men, expensive- 
 ly dressed and wearing high hats. Once a queer, dark 
 looking man, with rings in his ears, led a huge bear 
 down the road, and it wasn't a Kentucky bear. Digni- 
 fied men would gallop by on horseback and the boy 
 would be told that they were "lawyers, judges, or legis- 
 lators. " He would look at them with admiring envy. 
 
 "Gee, I'd like to be a lawyer or a judge or a legis- 
 lator when I git growed-up!" 
 
 Sometimes the sheriff would pass with a manacled 
 prisoner or two, or the boy might see a slave dealer 
 with a drove of black people all strung on one long 
 chain like grapes on a stem. Little Abe would wonder 
 why those black people 
 were seemingly so cheer- 
 ful — they were usually 
 singing. The sheriff's pris- 
 oners never seemed cheer- 
 ful, and Abe would won- 
 der how anyone could 
 keep from being sad while 
 in chains. 
 
 One day he asked his 
 mother to tell him about 
 the slaves, and why they 
 
90 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 were slaves. Nancy was somewhat reluctant, but she 
 told her son that slaves were black people with wool 
 on their heads instead of hair, flat noses, and thick lips, 
 and that they were owned by white people just the 
 same as were horses, cows, mules, or other farm 
 animals. 
 
 "Whar do the white folks git 'em, Mother?" 
 
 "Sometimes they are bought from dealers and some- 
 times they are growed like as the farm animals. When 
 people own growed-up slaves, they have little ones just 
 as cows have calves and horses have colts." 
 
 The little boy was very much interested in this. 
 Though he didn't quite understand, it was quite evi- 
 dent that he did not approve of slavery, and the woman 
 loved her son all the more because he did not. She 
 did not want him to approve of cruelty and injustice 
 in any form. And the boy, remembering the sad, beau- 
 tiful face of his mother, was to grow to manhood hat- 
 ing injustice and cruelty — hating slavery. And above 
 everything else, the world was to remember him as 
 "The Great Emancipator." 
 
 "Whar did the white folks git their slaves," Abe 
 continued. "Did they ketch 'em som'eres?" 
 
 "Yes, evil men caught 'em in Africa and brought 'em 
 to America in big ships; brought 'em from their homes 
 
"Schoolin' " 91 
 
 and kinfolks and friends who they wouldn't ever see 
 no more/' 
 
 Several big tears rolled down the boy's face. He was 
 thinking how awful it would be if anything like that 
 should happen to him; if he should be picked up and 
 taken to some strange land where he couldn't see his 
 mother, or his father, or Sarah, any more. 
 
 "If there wuz more black folks than white ones, and 
 the black folks ketched the white folks first, we'd be 
 their slaves, wouldn't we?" 
 
 Nancy was puzzled. What strange questions her 
 boy asked! She had never stopped to think about 
 that, but, after all, that's what would probably have 
 happened. Then came another question. 
 
 "But why are they so happy this way? I wouldn't be 
 if it wuz me." 
 
 This was also difficult, but the woman ventured an 
 answer: "I reckon it's because Niggers haven't got as 
 much sense as white folks." Then remembering her 
 Bible, she continued: "The good Lord always tempers 
 the wind to the shorn lambs." 
 
 The boy would always remember that remark of his 
 mother's, and on a far distant day, while debating with 
 Stephen A. Douglas, he would use this quotation. 
 
92 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 One autumn day, when Thomas Lincoln had gone to 
 Kirkpatrick's mill with the remainder of his corn crop 
 to have it ground into meal, a stranger knocked at the 
 sill of the open cabin door. The genteel looking young 
 stranger who wore a green, hammer-tail coat, and 
 brown breeches tucked into black polished boots with 
 a red band at the top, introduced himself to the lady 
 of the house as Zachariah Riney, Esquire, from Bards- 
 town. 
 
 Mr. Riney spoke with a decided brogue, and his Irish 
 nativity was strongly marked upon his face. He was, 
 he explained, a schoolmaster; and for the next hour 
 Nancy Lincoln listened to his glowing description of 
 the "Academy" which he was establishing to diffuse 
 "book-learning" and the sciences of grammar and 
 mathematics "among the offsprings of the citizens of 
 Knob Creek." Tuition would cost a dollar and a half 
 per quarter for each child, said Riney, and the academy 
 would be started as soon as twelve scholars had been 
 "subscribed." 
 
 In Elizabethtown, and later on isolated farms, Nan- 
 cy Lincoln had come to a full realization of the handi- 
 caps under which her husband struggled because of his 
 illiteracy. Thomas Lincoln still could neither read nor 
 write and it was with the greatest difficulty that he was 
 
"Schoolin' " 93 
 
 able to sign his name. Although he had learned to do 
 it, he still preferred to scrawl a cross upon legal docu- 
 ments, leaving the notary to surround that cross with 
 "Thomas Lincoln, his mark." 
 
 Nancy Lincoln did not want her son to grow up 
 into the same kind of man that his father was; she 
 wanted him to be a merchant, or a lawyer, or a preach- 
 er; she wanted him to be a success in life, to be honored 
 and respected among his fellow men. 
 
 When Zachariah Riney left the Lincoln cabin it was 
 with the assurance that his academy would have two 
 scholars from that cabin. That night Nancy discussed 
 with her husband this important addition to the neigh- 
 borhood. Above everything else she wanted her chil- 
 dren to be "eddicated." Thomas Lincoln was non- 
 committal. 
 
 "It would pleasure me right considerable to have 
 Abe larn to read," she ventured. 
 
 "Maybe so," drawled the man, "maybe so. But it 
 mought never be any use to him; he mought go all 
 his born days and nobody give a keer whether he could 
 read or not." 
 
 "What about cipherm'?" persisted the woman. 
 
 "That goes for ciphering too." 
 
 Thomas Lincoln pointed to a rafter upon which sev- 
 
94 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 eral crosses had been marked with charcoal. "See them 
 marks, Nancy?" he continued. "Each one of them 
 marks stands for a day I've put in on the roads. When 
 the county pays me for them days I'll wipe off the 
 marks. That's all the cipherin' I need, an* I reckon 
 that's all the cipherin' Abe'll ever need. 
 
 "Take subtracting fer instance; it just comes natural 
 here in Kentucky. When my pa come out here from 
 Virginny he was wuth more than two hundred pounds 
 sterlin'. He put it in land which was lost — subtracted 
 one way or another — an' in the end his life was sub- 
 tracted too, by an Injun. An' so it goes with poor folks. 
 Everything they gits seems to be subtracted till there 
 ain't nothin' left. No, you don't have to learn sub- 
 tractin' in Kentucky. We come by it natural." 
 
 Nancy realized that further argument was useless; 
 but she made a mental resolve that whether their father 
 agreed to it or not, her children would be sent to the 
 new school. She did not want her boy to grow up 
 lazy, dull, and self-satisfied, like his father. It wasn't 
 so important about Sarah, because she would get mar- 
 ried when the time came; but both children should 
 have their chance. 
 
 ***** 
 
 When Zachariah Riney came into the Knob Creek 
 
"Schoolin"' 95 
 
 neighborhood to "keep an academy," Abe Lincoln was 
 too young to go to it alone. It was fortunate, there- 
 fore, that his sister was older and that she could take 
 him back and forth. Little Abe was what has later 
 been called a "shirt tail boy;" that is, he had not as 
 yet been "put in pants." He was garbed in a one-piece 
 shirt very much as little darkies in the South, or little 
 Mexicans in Mexico, may sometimes be found to-day. 
 
 The schoolmaster, being a stickler for the proprieties, 
 was annoyed by Abe's airy one-piece costume, and sent 
 word by Sarah at the end of the first day's session that 
 he would have to be put into pants. In that first pair 
 of homespun pants Abe Lincoln was a mighty proud 
 boy; he felt like a "growed-up man." 
 
 Mr. Riney was not of the class of schoolmasters 
 whom Hardin County settlers might call "knock down 
 and drag out." But, although he was good-hearted 
 enough, he was also somewhat politic. Being a new- 
 comer, and being poor, he determined to manage his 
 business with due regard for the tastes, wishes, and 
 prejudices of the community in which he labored. He 
 preferred a mild reign ; but it was said he could easily 
 accommodate himself of one of a more vigorous policy. 
 
 He soon learned that the latter was the favorite on 
 Knob Creek. Parents complained that there was little 
 
96 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 or no "whoppin' " in the new school. One boy's father 
 who had heard the fable of the frogs who desired a 
 sovereign, declared that "this feller, Zack Riney, hain't 
 no better'n 01' King Log." Another patron even spoke 
 of taking his children home and putting the boy behind 
 the plow and the girl at the spinning wheel. 
 
 People of those days loved their children as well as 
 now, but they had strange ways of showing that love. 
 The strangest of all was the evident satisfaction which 
 they felt when their children were whipped at school. 
 While the majority of them believed that education 
 was something desirable, it was believed, too, that the 
 imparting of knowledge should be conducted in the 
 most strenuous way. 
 
 According to these notions, the principles of "book 
 larnin' " were not to be addressed to the mind, but, if 
 they were expected to stick, they must be beaten into 
 the back with hickory rods. No exception was made 
 in favor of genius; its back was to be kept as sore as 
 stupidity's. The parents had been flogged so constant- 
 ly during their own school days that they seemed to 
 have retained a grateful affection for it ever afterward. 
 It was, therefore, with a feeling of benign satisfaction 
 that they were wont to listen to their children when 
 they complained of their daily thrashings. 
 
"Schoolin' " 97 
 
 The pioneer Kentucky schoolhouses were bare, log 
 buildings, with the cracks unchinked. They were often 
 built upon slopes high enough at one end for hogs to 
 be able to rest under the floor and fill the room above 
 with fleas; a situation which could be only partially 
 remedied by the pennyroyal which the pupils brought 
 by the armful and trampled upon the floor. The 
 benches were of puncheon, without backs. It was con- 
 sidered another needless concession to the love of lux- 
 ury to saw off the pegs which projected upward 
 through the surface of the seats. When new, these 
 puncheon seats were full of splinters, but these were 
 soon worn away or absorbed by the scholars. 
 
 Not all the children of Knob Creek attended school. 
 When one of these boys passed within earshot of the 
 schoolhouse, the pupils would shout "School-butter!" 
 Just what this phrase meant, no one to-day can tell, 
 but it was the common insult and hostile challenge that 
 the schoolboys hurled at the non-attendants; and the 
 boy so designated would need to be fleet of foot to 
 escape punishment. 
 
 But Abe Lincoln was not big enough at this time to 
 participate in any of these class struggles. He was 
 also too young to have a share in many of the other 
 pranks, such as attempts to lock the teacher out. 
 
98 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 On the fly leaf of Abraham Lincoln's spelling book, 
 which has been preserved, he scrawled this doggerel: 
 
 "Abraham Lincoln 
 his hand and pen, 
 he will be good but 
 god knows When." 
 
 His schoolmates all remembered Abe's good spelling. 
 He invariably stood at the head of his class, and so 
 often did he spell many of the larger pupils down, that 
 Knob Creek tradition says that he was not encouraged 
 by the teacher to take part in these contests. His copy 
 book was filled with lines such as this, written in the 
 scarlet, pokeberry ink: 
 
 "Good boys who to their books apply, 
 Will all be great men by and by." 
 
 Both the Kentucky schools which Abe attended were 
 "blab-schools," which means that the pupils were re- 
 quired to study aloud, the only evidence deemed suf- 
 ficient that they were studying at all. Text books were 
 very rare and the majority of the pupils possessed but 
 one book, a speller. The speller used in Riney's acad- 
 emy was Dilworth's. Later Abe was to become ac- 
 quainted with Webster's "blueback." 
 
 After several weeks, Zachariah Riney came to the 
 conclusion that he could not "make his keep" as a 
 
sfeWn&'Vf 
 
 The majority of the pupils possessed but one book, a speller 
 
"Schoolin' " 99 
 
 pedagogue, and closed the academy. The children de- 
 parted from his school a trifle less ignorant than when 
 they had entered it. With all its hardships and occa- 
 sional cruelties, Abraham Lincoln loved school from 
 the beginning. Unfortunately, all his school days, 
 when added together, came to a total of but a little 
 over a year, about three months of which were spent in 
 this and one other Kentucky school. 
 
 Riney lived to be a very old man. He was still in 
 Hardin County when Abraham Lincoln was nominated 
 for President of the United States. To this man be- 
 longs the credit for having taught Abe Lincoln to read 
 and write. We have his illustrious scholar's own word 
 for it that before leaving Kentucky he could read, and 
 write a legible hand; and Dennis Hanks, long after- 
 ward, boastfully claimed that he had "hepped Abe with 
 his writin' by showm' him how to make a pen out of a 
 goose quill, and ink from the juice of pokeberries." 
 
 During the late summer afternoons, when the 
 weather was not too hot, Nancy Lincoln would take 
 her children on strolls along the road which led to 
 the great outside world. And she would tell them about 
 things that were taking place there. She would tell 
 them about Lexington and Louisville — great cities, as 
 
ioo Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 Nancy described them — and, most interesting of all, 
 she would tell them about Washington City, the capital 
 of their country; about President Madison and what 
 a great and good man he was — Presidents must always 
 be great and good men, she said — about Congress and 
 the Senate, which were groups of great men sent there 
 by the people to make wise and just laws to protect and 
 guide the country. 
 
 And she would call her children's attention to the 
 beauties of the landscape; to the many and magnificent 
 shades of green in the distant trees then completely 
 covering Muldraugh's Hill; of the beauties of the sky, 
 particularly the sunsets with their crimson and pur- 
 plish tints. This was all God's handiwork, she would 
 explain; yes, it was all God's handiwork, and men 
 would never be able to create anything so marvelous. 
 Men could build houses, fine houses, but no man could 
 make a tree. Artists could paint fine pictures, but they 
 could not paint pictures so beautiful or with colors so 
 gorgeous as those which God provided in His land- 
 scapes. 
 
 The Lincoln children were not to have their mother 
 very long. Before either of them would be grown she 
 would be taken away to live in one of God's many man- 
 sions, but the boy would never forget the things that 
 
"Schoolin' " 
 
 IOI 
 
 she had said to him, or the many great truths which 
 she had helped him to understand. And he would re- 
 member and revere above everything else the precious 
 memory of her. 
 
 After he had attained the loftiest position in the 
 
 land, Abraham Lincoln would say, not once, but on 
 many occasions: "All that I am or ever expect to be, 
 I owe to my Angel Mother. God bless her memory!" 
 ***** 
 Abe Lincoln, at seven years of age, was not hand- 
 some. His face was too narrow, his nose was too large, 
 and his ears were oversized and stood out from his 
 
102 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 head at right angles; his hair was coarse, dark, and 
 unruly. His body was thin, with long legs and arms, 
 "spider-like/' his father said. But he did not know that 
 he was a homely child, for he had never seen himself 
 in any mirror except a pool of water which he never 
 looked into long enough to study his own features. 
 They did not interest him much. 
 
 In the fall Nancy Lincoln made a pair of buckskin 
 breeches for her son. She purposely made them too 
 wide and too long. The legs were turned in and 
 stitched and the waist tucked in, so that she could let 
 them out as the boy grew. His shirt had a very long 
 tail which was the only undergarment he wore. His 
 jacket was of deerskin and his cap was of coonskin 
 with a tail hanging down in the back for ornament, and 
 with patches to pull down over his ears when the 
 weather was cold. The only shoes he possessed were 
 home-made moccasins. 
 
 In summer the moccasins and cap were laid away 
 until cold weather should come again, and the home- 
 spun breeches took the place of the buckskin. The 
 question of dress was a very simple one and these 
 clothes interested Abe but little. He went through 
 Riney's school bareheaded, and barefooted, without a 
 book of any kind or a slate or pencil or paper. Some- 
 
"Schoolin' " 103 
 
 times he scratched his letters on the smooth ground, 
 sometimes he skinned the bark off a tree and wrote 
 on the clean, smooth underside; or on one of the smooth 
 plank ends that his father had discarded from one of 
 his carpenter or cabinet-making jobs. 
 
 The following year another school was started on 
 Knob Creek. This time Caleb Hazel, the overgrown, 
 ne'er-do-well son of a tavern keeper, decided to try his 
 hand as schoolmaster. He had even less ability than 
 Riney, and his academy was abandoned within a few 
 weeks. According to one of Hazel's acquaintances, "he 
 could perhaps teach spelling, reading and indifferent 
 writing, and perhaps could cipher to the rule of three, 
 but he had no other qualifications as a teacher except 
 large size and bodily strength to throw any boy or 
 youth that came to his school." 
 
 Fifty years later there were people still living on 
 Knob Creek, who, as his schoolmates, remembered Abe 
 Lincoln as quiet, considerate, and one who was able to 
 adjust difficulties between boys of his size. Although 
 he was no coward, they had no remembrances of him 
 as having any fights. It was recalled that he usually 
 managed to keep his clothes clean longer than any of 
 the others, but usually managed to accomplish his share 
 of harmless mischief. He liked to fish, they said, but 
 
104 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 did not care much for hunting; though occasionally, 
 with his dog and ax, he would chase a rabbit into some 
 hollow tree and then chop it out. 
 
 Abe was a moody fellow, a trait which was to remain 
 with him throughout his life. There were times when 
 he would be hilariously gay and talkative. Even in his 
 youth he was noted among his companions as a 
 story teller. At other times he would become glum 
 and silent, and retire to some quiet spot to sit alone for 
 hours. He might be found perched on a rock or a stump 
 beside the creek, studying the reflections in the water, 
 or high up on Muldraugh's Hill, lazily watching the 
 clouds, wondering where they came from and where 
 they were going. Then, as he gazed out over the high 
 hills, he would be filled with speculations as to what 
 lay beyond, in the great outside world. 
 
 Not only did Abraham Lincoln spend his childhood 
 in the midst of primitive pioneer conditions, but he was 
 in all essentials a part of his environment. Although 
 he had dormant qualities which were, in later life, to 
 lift him above these conditions, he was not, as a boy, 
 superior to his surroundings. Later in life he came to 
 think meanly of his poverty-stricken youth; but in Ken- 
 tucky he led the life of a normal backwoods boy. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 "OLD TIME RELIGION" 
 
 WHEN their father made coffins, Abe and 
 Sarah took delight in playing in the shav- 
 ings that curled out from his plane as it 
 slid over the dark wood. They were nice, soft, brown 
 shavings of walnut, different in color and texture from 
 those of the pine and poplar. Sometimes little Abe 
 would stick several of these wooden curls under his 
 coonskin cap and run shouting toward the creek, pro- 
 claiming that he was "a Injun on the warpath." 
 
 Sarah liked these shavings equally well, but her use 
 of them was different. From some of the older girls 
 she had learned that if she took a long shaving and 
 held it out at arm's length, turned around three times 
 with her eyes closed, and then flung the shaving over 
 her left shoulder, it would in all probability form one 
 of the letters of the alphabet when it hit on the ground, 
 and that letter would be the initial of the girl's future 
 husband. 
 
 Of course, an apple peeling might be used for the 
 
 105 
 
106 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 same purpose and indeed it was often employed at play- 
 parties attended by the older children, but it was not 
 as reliable or as exciting as a shaving from a coffin. 
 Sarah was much too young to be interested in hus- 
 bands, but she had learned her letters and liked to see 
 how many she could make out of the shavings. 
 
 After the Lincolns had lived on Knob Creek about 
 a year, another child was born to them; a boy, who 
 was named Thomas, after his father. This was a very 
 mysterious time for Abe and Sarah. They were greatly 
 interested in their little brother, and they wondered 
 why they were encouraged to stay out of the cabin as 
 much as possible after he had come and why their 
 mother would not allow them to play with Tommy — 
 for all the other children on Knob Creek were allowed 
 to play with their baby brothers and sisters. 
 
 At the end of about four months, they understood 
 these things, for sickly little Tommy's brief stay on 
 earth was ended. On the afternoon when their father 
 solemnly went out to make the tiny casket, they did 
 not play in the shavings, but stood tearfully watching, 
 instead. Then, just about the time the sun was setting, 
 little Tommy was tucked into his casket and laid away 
 in the earth, a melancholy task which was also per- 
 formed by Thomas Lincoln, and which was accom- 
 
"Old Time Religion" 107 
 
 panied by prayers from several of the neighbors. 
 
 )p J|C ■$ 3ft $ 
 
 Though the religion of the early settlers of Kentucky 
 was rather narrow and not very refined, it was the 
 religion of a stalwart, independent people. They had 
 an inherited conviction of God and a vivid sense of 
 His management of the world. To-day we would prob- 
 ably call them fatalists. They bore disappointment or 
 sorrow quietly. "Hit was to be, I reckon," usually ex- 
 plained any disaster. Starved for social contact, these 
 people would flock together wherever religious services 
 were held. 
 
 Their pioneer churches, usually called "meeting- 
 houses/' were built very much like the cabin homes, 
 except that they were of a size sufficiently large to ac- 
 commodate congregations. At the time of Abraham 
 Lincoln's boyhood a few of these primitive houses of 
 worship had small belfries and other ecclesiastical em- 
 bellishments, but these were rare. Ordinarily the build- 
 ings were very plain. 
 
 Church-going people of to-day would have been un- 
 duly disturbed could they have seen people go in and 
 out of the meeting-house during the sermon; and they 
 would have been shocked at the unspiritual conduct 
 of some of the men, who deliberately walked out to 
 
108 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 "swap" horses under the shelter of a near-by tree. To 
 leave a service before the Benediction is, of course, an 
 inexcusable lapse in propriety, but in the remote dis- 
 tricts where Lincoln lived it was permissible. 
 
 The sermons sometimes lasted as long as two hours. 
 And the first twenty minutes were usually consumed 
 by the preacher "to git limbered up and goin' smooth." 
 The Kentucky pioneers believed in fair play; they 
 would let the preacher talk as long as he pleased — that 
 was his privilege — but they considered it their equal 
 privilege to walk out when they had heard enough. 
 
 The sermons were often delivered in a sort of an 
 ecstatic monotone and produced within many of the 
 hearers a temporary semi-hypnotic state of mind. There 
 was not always any very strong connection between 
 the emotional religion of these people and their daily 
 lives. At this period in Kentucky, there were many 
 ignorant circuit-riding preachers who probably gave 
 thanks to God because they could not read. Such men 
 preferred to call loudly upon the "Almighty" to fill 
 their mouths with messages more authoritative than 
 those of the "Book Preachers." Those good men often 
 served without pay, earning livelihoods on their little 
 farms or, like Jesse Head, in a shop, or at "public 
 works." 
 
"Old Time Religion" 
 
 109 
 
 "My tex' is summers in the Bible between Genera- 
 tions and Revolutions, " the preacher might declare, 
 "an* I ain't a-goin' t' tell ye whar. Ye kin jest read 
 till ye finds it — and ye'll 
 find a heap more that's full 
 of truth." 
 
 Striking and memorable 
 experiences were expected 
 to accompany conversion. 
 The repentant sinner was 
 expected to labor under 
 conviction as a prelimi- 
 nary, and then, after pro- 
 longed and sometimes in- 
 tense wrestling in prayer, 
 he was expected to "come 
 through." Then, and only 
 then, would he receive as- 
 surance of salvation, pref- 
 erably by some notable or 
 supernatural token. "I 
 prayed all night under yonder plum tree, an' at the 
 very first streak of dawn I got peace," a convert might 
 declare; "an' jest afore sunup, I tell ye, Brother, that 
 old plum tree were jest one solid growth of blossoms," 
 
no Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 Thomas Lincoln and his wife are known to have 
 been Baptists. That term is not sufficient to describe 
 their religion, however; for there were then in Ken- 
 tucky many varieties of Baptists, bearing different pre- 
 fixes, such as: "Old," "Old School," "Primitive," 
 "Predestination," "Original," "Particular," "Regular," 
 and, in at least one small group, "Anti-Missionary." 
 There were also the "Arminians," "Close Communion," 
 "General," "Free Will," "Foot Washing," "Hard 
 Shell," "Hyper-Calvinist," "Missionary," "Northern," 
 "Sebbatarian," "Soft Shell," "Southern," "Two Seed," 
 and "United." 
 
 While in Kentucky it is believed that the Lincolns 
 belonged to the Separate Baptists. The Separate Bap- 
 tists were practically the same as the Arminians and 
 according to an early Kentucky historian, "in 1830 the 
 Arminian element was slewed off with the Campbellite 
 faction." This group of Baptists refused to adopt "any 
 creed but the Bible." Refusing to adopt any creed or 
 confession in their doctrinal views, there was naturally 
 a wide diversity of opinions among the individual mem- 
 bers. 
 
 The Hodgensville community was largely of the Bap- 
 tist persuasion. Preaching services were held there 
 monthly, and the Lincolns doubtless attended these 
 
"Old Time Religion" hi 
 
 and other religious services. From the time that 
 Abraham was carried in his mother's arms, there was 
 a meeting-house on Knob Creek, and the Little Mount 
 Church was conveniently near. Though no record of 
 it has been found, they no doubt had a local church 
 membership; for when Thomas Lincoln joined the Lit- 
 tle Pigeon Church in Indiana, he brought his letter 
 from Kentucky. Unfortunately, this credential does 
 not name the church which issued it. 
 
 Probably the first sermon that Abraham Lincoln ever 
 heard was at the Little Mount Church and was 
 preached by the Rev. William Downs. Downs was a 
 Separate Baptist and an orator of unusual ability for 
 the time and place. He held strong anti-slavery views 
 and was a man of some education, and as an orator he 
 enjoyed at least local fame. 
 
 In describing Downs, the historian of the Baptists 
 in Kentucky says: "He was indolent, slovenly, and self- 
 indulgent. He had been preaching in Hardin County 
 but a short while before he was summoned before the 
 
 church to answer the charge of being intoxicated 
 
 He was clad extremely shabbily; he had on a pair of 
 coarse linen pantaloons and an old wool hat with a 
 piece of leather sewed in the crown, and a pair of coarse 
 cowskin shoes without socks." 
 
ii2 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 When a convert wished to be baptized, the members 
 of the church would go in large numbers to the creek. 
 There was always an interested crowd, the older peo- 
 ple looking on with sympathetic approval, and the 
 young with alert curiosity. The preacher would wade 
 out until he found "good bottom." Then he would 
 call upon the convert to come down and enter into the 
 "Waters of Baptism." 
 
 One reason why so much of the pioneer preaching 
 dealt with death was the custom of conducting fu- 
 nerals long after the subject of those sermons had 
 been interred. It was customary for the relatives and 
 friends to gather, preferably during the following 
 autumn, and listen to a long-winded eulogy of the 
 person under the ground, which always included warn- 
 ings of sudden death to sinners unrepentant. The fol- 
 lowing words are a characteristic example of the awe- 
 some songs frequently sung at these services: 
 
 "Oh, ye young, ye gay, ye proud! 
 You must die and wear the shroud. 
 Time will rob you of your bloom, 
 Death will drag you to your tomb; 
 Then you'll cry, 'I want to be 
 Happy in Eternity/ " 
 
 "Will you go to Heaven or to Hell ? 
 One you must and there to dwell. 
 
"Old Time Religion" 113 
 
 Christ will come, and quickly, too, 
 I must meet him, so must you ; 
 Then you'll cry, 'I want to be 
 Happy in Eternity.' " 
 
 The "Doctrine of Hell-fire," as the pioneer preachers 
 and evangelists called it, was a wholesome one. Noth- 
 ing less stringent would have met the spiritual require- 
 ments of these people. But it was preached for the 
 admonition of the living rather than as a curse upon 
 the dead, who were accorded an attitude of charity. 
 Though picturing a merciless Hell for the living, the 
 preachers would invariably depict great comfort for 
 the dead in the sovereign grace of God. "They ain't no 
 bound'ry to the pardoning grace of God," they would 
 declare. 
 
 Although the earlier agitation against slavery in 
 Kentucky had subsided at the time of Lincoln's boy- 
 hood, it was never wholly dropped. The Methodists 
 had ceased petitioning legislatures for its abolition and 
 had removed all restrictions against its members' hold- 
 ing slaves. The Presbyterians, too, no longer believed 
 it was advisable to "disturb the peace of Zion" by fur- 
 ther agitation. But the Baptists did not lessen their 
 efforts; it was they who formed the first anti-slavery 
 group in Kentucky — the Kentucky Abolition Society — 
 
ii4 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 composed largely of members of the "Baptized Lick- 
 ing-Locusts Association and Friends of Humanity." 
 
 SfC 3J5 #$• •%* 3|» 
 
 Abe Lincoln's Kentucky was a land also abounding 
 in superstitions. Many were the tales of "haunts" and 
 "ghosts" and visions from "On High" that the boy 
 heard from adult lips, from narrators who honestly be- 
 lieved the supernatural happenings which they related. 
 There were mysterious warnings and "bad signs" in 
 abundance. Lincoln grew up amid this primitive su- 
 perstition from which none of his neighbors were free. 
 Some of these superstitions became a fixed part of his 
 mental make-up and he never outgrew them. 
 
 Hearing a "fire and brimstone" sermon always com- 
 pletely changed the Sabbath holiday for little Abe. He 
 was usually thoughtful and solemn for the remainder 
 of the day. Yes, the parson was right; people had to 
 die — everybody had to die — he meditated. Poor little 
 Tommy had died, and some of them — the bad people — 
 had to go to Hell and burn in fire and brimstone forever 
 and ever. And the way the parson talked, most of the 
 people were bad and so most of them had to go to 
 Hell. 
 
 But surely this did not apply to little Tommy. Tom- 
 my hadn't lived long enough to be very bad. The worst 
 
"Old Time Religion" 115 
 
 he had ever done was cry sometimes at night and keep 
 mother and father awake. Sometimes he had spilled 
 his "vittles" or thrown them on the floor and wet his 
 pants, but all babies did these things because they 
 didn't know any better. 
 
 And after little Abe had climbed up to his bed in 
 the loft, he would lie awake and ponder these weighty 
 questions of life and death, Heaven and Hell; and the 
 stars that peeped at him through the cracks of the 
 clapboard roof would tauntingly imply that these 
 things were true. And the boy would become restless 
 and roll and scratch himself until finally, from sheer 
 exhaustion, the stars would be blotted out; life and 
 death, Heaven and Earth alike, would melt away into 
 the healthy sleep of childhood. 
 
 To Abe Lincoln his Kentucky schooling, crude as it 
 was, had been a great boon. He had learned to read, 
 and, through reading, his mental development was well 
 on its way. The only book which his parents ever pos- 
 sessed was a Bible, and the boy had no books at all. 
 His mother encouraged him to study, and from this 
 Bible his first reading was done by slowly taking one 
 word at a time. He would often read to his mother 
 from this book. 
 
 The Bible was to remain one of the predominating 
 
n6 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 influences upon Abraham Lincoln's life. To his thor- 
 ough study of it may be attributed the clarity and 
 beauty of the perfect English to which he attained dur- 
 ing manhood. But the Bible did more than tjiis for 
 Lincoln; it taught him to believe in and to rely upon 
 the goodness of God; it taught him to be honest, to 
 honor his father and mother, to be truthful, to be char- 
 itable, and to be forgiving. 
 
 The Bible also helped to give him a better under- 
 standing of history, of the theory of law, of the conduct 
 of life, and to point out the proper course in his deal- 
 ings and relations with his fellow men. As a man, 
 Abraham Lincoln followed literally the admonition of 
 Christ: "Do unto others as you would have others do 
 unto you. ,, 
 
 After Abraham Lincoln's death, old Dennis Hanks, 
 in recalling incidents of his illustrious cousin's boy- 
 hood, said: "I'll tell you a peculiar circumstance about 
 Abe. Back in Kintucky he would come home from 
 church and put a box in the middle of the cabin floor 
 and repeat the sermint clean through from text to dox- 
 ology, or sometimes give it outdoors, usin' a stump fer 
 a pulpit. I heerd him do it many a time." 
 
 But in later life Abraham Lincoln did not hold mem- 
 bership in any church ; though, with his wife, he usually 
 
"Old Time Religion" 
 
 117 
 
 attended the Presbyterian Church, both at Springfield 
 and in Washington. Henry C. Deming, wartime mem- 
 ber of Congress from Connecticut, related that he had 
 asked the President why he had not united with a 
 church, and Lincoln answered: 
 
 "I have never united myself to any church, because 
 
 I have found difficulty in giving my assent, without 
 mental reservation, to the long, complicated statements 
 of Christian doctrine which characterize their articles 
 of belief and confessions of faith. When any church 
 will inscribe over its altars, as its sole qualification for 
 membership, the Savior's condensed statement of the 
 substance of both law and gospel, 'Thou shalt love the 
 
n8 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, 
 and with all thy mind, and thy neighbor as thyself/ 
 that church will I join with all my heart and all my 
 soul." 
 
 The narrative of the death-bed scene, in the Indiana 
 cabin home, when Nancy Lincoln bade a final farewell 
 to her son, may explain the creed of Abraham Lin- 
 coln's religious life. The story, as related by him to 
 Joshua Speed, follows: 
 
 The mother called the ten-year-old boy to her side, 
 laid her thin hand upon him and said, "I am going 
 away from here, Abe, and I shall not return. I know 
 that you will be a good boy, that you will be kind to 
 Sarah, and to your father." The dying woman paused. 
 "I want you to live as I have taught you," she con- 
 tinued, "and, above all, I want you to love your Heaven- 
 ly Father." 
 
 Because of the stern necessities of isolation, Abraham 
 Lincoln's mother was buried without benefit of clergy, 
 in a coffin hewn by her husband. So deeply did this 
 affect the boy's soul that he wrote of it to the Rev. 
 David Elkin, at Little Mound, Kentucky, and three 
 months later the good parson rode the long distance 
 to Spencer County, Indiana, and preached a sermon 
 and offered up a prayer over the lonely grave. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 KNOB CREEK 
 
 KNOB CREEK had its swimming hole, a 
 source of endless delight in summer to the 
 boys and girls who wriggled about in it like 
 so many tadpoles. Occasionally one was drowned, but 
 that was considered natural — "an act of God" — and 
 diminished the popularity of the swimming hole not at 
 all. Abe learned to swim early. 
 
 Sometimes a dead log would float down the creek 
 and the boys would capture it. The log would then 
 become a pirate ship, or a man of war like the Constitu- 
 tion that he had heard his father talk about. Abe might 
 even be given the honor of being its commander, and 
 then he would stand posed in majestic imitation of the 
 figure of Washington he had seen in the picture that 
 showed the Father of his Country crossing the Dela- 
 ware, while the other boys lined along the log and 
 propelled it in the manner of galley slaves. 
 
 There was also a tiny island which was a fine place 
 to play pirate and bury gold; the "gold" being bright 
 
 119 
 
120 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 pebbles tied in scraps of an old meal sack. Or, for 
 excitement, one of the boys would be marooned on 
 this island. They could fish in Knob Creek and some- 
 times catch perch, trout, and catfish. Although Abe 
 didn't like hunting, he had no compunction against fish- 
 ing, and his father always encouraged it, because fish- 
 ing was doing something useful. 
 
 One morning, after a heavy rain, when the ground 
 was too wet for him and his father to work in the 
 fields, Abe was told that he "mought go fishin , . ,, The 
 boy knew just where to find the fattest worms; he hur- 
 riedly dug up a gourd full and then, grabbing the long- 
 est pole from where it reposed under the cabin, hurried 
 to the creek. He felt happy and elated; the birds were 
 singing in every field, and the sweet languor of sum- 
 mer was in the air. 
 
 By the time the sun was directly overhead, tell- 
 ing him that he had been there four hours, Abe had 
 three large catfish and an eel. He was very proud of 
 his catch. It would supply a mighty fine supper for 
 the entire family — and he had caught 'em all by him- 
 self! Wouldn't mother be proud, and wouldn't she 
 praise him! His father wouldn't say much, but he 
 would show by the way he smacked his lips over the 
 supper that the fish were duly appreciated. 
 
Knob Creek 121 
 
 Abe strung his fish on a stick, shouldered his pole, 
 and began his homeward march like a conquering hero. 
 The day was hot and the fish were heavy. The young 
 fisherman decided to rest. Presently he heard the crack- 
 ling sound of somebody or something coming through 
 the thicket. It was a man, a dirty-looking man with 
 whiskers sticking out all over his face. His clothes 
 were not like those of the people of Knob Creek — he 
 wore a soldier uniform! Abe knew that they were 
 soldier's clothes because he had seen lots of soldiers 
 march by the cabin when they went away to war. 
 
 The War of 1812 had been over for a long time, but 
 the boy hadn't forgotten how the soldiers looked. All 
 the folks had shouted to them and cheered when they 
 marched by; and once his father had fed an entire com- 
 pany of these brave men. Yes, this man was wearing 
 the same kind of clothes; but instead of being, like 
 those of the others, new, bright and clean, this man's 
 uniform was patched, ragged, and dirty. 
 
 "Howdy," grunted the stranger. 
 
 "Howdy," said Abe. 
 
 There was a long pause. 
 
 "Be you a soldier?" asked Abe, his curiosity getting 
 the better of his misgivings. 
 
 "Yep," replied the man, "I'm a soldier; that is, I 
 
122 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 wuz a soldier, till Old Hickory finished the Lobster- 
 Backs. Then the war wuz over and us fellers, we got 
 our dis-charges." 
 
 The boy was delighted. A real soldier! A man who 
 had fought with General Jackson! And he was talk- 
 ing to him! Wouldn't that be something to tell when 
 he got home? The stranger sat down on a log, grunted, 
 rubbed his left leg and then his stomach; his eyes, in 
 the meantime, focused upon the fish. 
 
 "Whar did ye git the fish, boy?" he asked. 
 
 "I ketched 'em," said Abe. "Ketched 'em in the creek 
 by myself. Ain't they fine?" he added, holding the 
 string of fish high so that the soldier might get a bet- 
 ter view of them. 
 
 "Yep, they're fine, all right," the man agreed. 
 "Whatcha goin' to do with 'em?" 
 
 "Take 'em home so my mother kin fry 'em for sup- 
 per. We'll have a fine fish supper to-night." 
 
 "Supper — supper! Where have I heered that word 
 afore?" sighed the soldier. "Why, it's been so long 
 since I had a supper, boy, I mought not even know 
 how to eat one. I ain't et anything fer nigh on to three 
 days." 
 
 "You ain't et nothin' fer nigh onta three days?" ex- 
 claimed Abe. "Why, at our house we eats every day, 
 
Knob Creek 123 
 
 two or three times every day. Don't ye live nowheres, 
 mister? Hain't ye got no home?" 
 
 The man stretched his legs and grunted. "I uster 
 hev a home," he sighed, " 'fore the war. But m'folks 
 must o' thunk I wuz dead. They moved off some'eres, 
 an' I kain't find hide nor hair of 'em. I'm still a-lookin', 
 but it's a hard job with a British bullet still a-pinchin' 
 me leg." 
 
 "Did ye fight with Gin'ral Washington, too?" The 
 boy's eyes had begun to sparkle. 
 
 "Lordy, no!" the man laughed. "I ain't thet old. 
 No, I never fit nowheres 'cept under Ole Hickory down 
 t' New Orleans. Down thar we give them British a 
 taste o' fire they ain't never goin' t' fergit." 
 
 "Did ye lick 'em good?" 
 
 "Did we lick 'em good?" the man chuckled. "Lad, 
 ye ain't never heered tell o' sech a scrimmage! Why, 
 we fit behind a pile o' cotton-bales an' mud-sacks thet 
 stretched fer more'n a mile from the river, an' when 
 they tried t' storm us, we threshed 'em till there warn't 
 no fight left in 'em. All as could git there, scrambled 
 aboard their ships, an' th' rest of 'em skedaddled into 
 th' swamps with Ole Hickory sendin' Minnie-balls right 
 arter 'em! Them as we didn't git, the alligators did!" 
 
 The boy joined in the man's hearty laughter. "Alii- 
 
124 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 gators likes Redcoats 'most as well as they do niggers," 
 the soldier continued. 
 
 Abe's admiration was boundless. Here was a real 
 hero! "Gee, I wish I'd a-been there/' he said. "I'd like 
 ter be a sodjer!" 
 
 The veteran smiled, but not pleasantly. "But the 
 soldier thet does th' fightin' — everybody fergits about 
 him arter it's all over. When war's a-startin', an' while 
 it's a-goin' on, they slaps ye on th' back, 'specially the 
 rich fellers thet's a-stayin' home t' make all they kin 
 outen it. But when it's all over, an' there ain't no more 
 danger, an' ye comes back with a arm, or a leg, or a 
 eye, or somethin', missin', why, they won't look at ye. 
 Ye're jest a wagabond in their way." 
 
 "Oh, I'm shore everbody ain't thetaway. I hain't, 
 an' my folks hain't thetaway, neither. Ye kin — hev 
 my — fish, if ye want 'em. They'll make a nice supper." 
 
 "God bless ye, my boy!" said the soldier, for he really 
 was hungry. "Ye're a fine little feller. I won't fergit 
 ye, and I hopes ye won't fergit me." 
 
 "I'm shore I won't. Ye see, I never talked to a real 
 sodjer before, but I've hearn lots about 'em, an' my 
 mother tole me everybody oughter be good to sodjers." 
 
 sfc ♦ • • * 
 
 Austin Gollaher lived to be a very old man. His en- 
 
Ye 
 
 KIX HEV MY FISH, IF YE WANT EM. 
 
Knob Creek 125 
 
 tire life was spent in the Knob Creek district, where 
 he died. He was genial and, to the many writers who 
 interviewed him, exceedingly talkative; and his story 
 pertaining to Lincoln's boyhood grew more lengthy 
 and more interesting with the years. Gollaher, the 
 patriarch, has been described by a neighbor in these 
 words: "Old man Austin Gollaher lived not far away 
 from us. We had a good spring and he liked to drink 
 the water. He came over to our house almost every 
 day. He wore trap-door trousers and coarse white 
 shirts with knit suspenders. I seldom saw him with a 
 coat." 
 
 "Yep," wheezed Gollaher to one historian, "the story 
 that I once saved Abe Lincoln's life is true, but it 
 ain't correck as generally related. 
 
 "Abe's folks moved over here on Knob Crick from 
 just south of the county seat. They hadn't been here 
 long until my folks got acquainted with them, and 
 Mis' Lincoln and my ma used to visit back and forth 
 a good bit. Abe was about five then and I was some 
 three or four years older. When his ma would come 
 over, she and my ma would quilt, or make shirts, and 
 me and Abe would play about the place. Mostly we'd 
 go down around the crick and hunt for frogs and tur- 
 tles or whatever we could find that interested us. And 
 
126 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 always I had to look after Abe, him bein' younger and 
 knowin' less of how to keep from gettin' lost in the 
 woods. 
 
 "One Sunday, after the Lincolns had lived here on 
 the crick for quite a spell, and not so very long before 
 they moved away — I think they went to Indianny — 
 my ma decided to go over and spend the day with Mis' 
 Lincoln. Of course she tuck me along. Me and Abe 
 had been goin' to school together for a year or more, 
 and had become greatly attached to one another. Then 
 our school broke up on account of there being so few 
 scholars, and we had not seen each other much for a 
 long time. 
 
 "When we got there Abe was eager to play, and 
 we set out for the crick, which ran a few rods from 
 the Lincoln cabin. I don't know where his pa was. 
 I've recalled often as I've thought of the Lincolns that 
 I never seen much of him. It took hard work and a 
 lot of it to provide meat and bread and clothes for a 
 family in them days, and Mr. Lincoln was a hard-work- 
 ing man — I don't care what them lyin' writers have 
 said about him since. 
 
 "On this day — and it was the last, if I recollect, that 
 we spent playin' together — Abe wanted to go down to 
 the crick. It had rained hard the night before and 
 
Knob Creek 
 
 127 
 
 Knob Crick, bein , nothin' more than a branch at its 
 best, was swollen and runnin' to the top of its banks. 
 It was all wet and slippery, too. But the sun was 
 shinin' that mornin' and us boys didn't mind the water 
 and mud. 
 
 "Close to the Lincolns' cabin was a log across the 
 crick, put there for use as a foot-log. We stood by 
 this a while and Abe said to me, 'Austin, the other day 
 I seen a whole lot of 
 partridges just across 
 the crick and they was 
 so tame I could have ^; 
 caught some of them.' 
 But he was afraid to 
 try to cross the foot- ^CJ% 
 log by himself. 'Let's *£t 
 go over and get 'em/ ^¥^'%, 
 he said to me. And I -J'-* 
 agreed. 
 
 "I told Abe that 
 since the crick was so 
 high, maybe he'd bet- 
 ter get down a-straddle of the log and 'coon it' 
 across. I went on ahead and made it to the other 
 side in a jiffy. Then I told him to get down a-straddle 
 
128 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 of the log and he did. I was standing there facing him 
 and all of a sudden he quit trying to coon the log and 
 looked at me and hollered he was afraid, so I guessed 
 he'd got dizzy. 'Don't look up nor down nor side- 
 ways/ I called to him. 'J ust l°°k right straight at me 
 and keep on coonm'!' 
 
 "Abe made another attempt to start toward the side 
 of the crick I was on. But he lost his grip on the log 
 and went splashin' into the water. He wasn't more'n 
 a yard or so from the bank I was on. I caught up 
 a piece of driftwood — a little old sycamore limb what 
 had lodged against the tree durin' high water — and 
 holdin' to one end I stuck it out and yelled to him to 
 catch hold of the other end. He was splashin' and 
 clawin' and hollerin' round in the water, but he grabbed 
 hold and I pulled him out. 
 
 "Abe was nigh dead — looked like a drownded rat — 
 and I was scared stiff. I rolled and pounded him in 
 good earnest. Then I got him by the arms and shook 
 him, the water meanwhile pourin' out of his mouth. 
 In this way I succeeded in bringin' him to, and he 
 was soon all right again. 
 
 "But a new difficulty fronted us. I told Abe me and 
 him was in an awful fix, that his ma would whop him, 
 and that if my ma seen it, she would blame me for 
 
Knob Creek 129 
 
 lettin' him, and then I would not only get a good 
 whoppin' from her, but I might get another one when 
 we went home that evenin' and she told my pa about 
 it. So I helped him take off his pants and shirt and we 
 spread them on the rocks to dry. Then we went on 
 playing me dressed and Abe naked. 
 
 "It was June, the sun was bilin' hot, and Abe's 
 clothes was soon dried, and we started back up the 
 path through the hazel bushes towards Abe's house. 
 I stayed right with him when he had to cross the log 
 going back to the side of the crick his house was on, 
 and held his shoulder so he couldn't topple off. We got 
 back across all right. 
 
 "I said to him, 'Abe, we mustn't let on like anything 
 happened. I won't tell nobody and don't you ever tell 
 nobody and then they can't go and tell our ma's and 
 get us a whoppin' later on.' So we promised that 
 neither would ever tell it. Abe's folks moved from 
 Knob Crick neighborhood a little while after that. I 
 don't know whether he ever told anybody or not, but 
 I never did till after Abe was murdered, and I reckon 
 he never told, neither. 
 
 "No, sir, I never heard directly from Abe after him 
 and the family moved off. Once, when Dr. Jesse Rod- 
 man, who was our family doctor for a long time, come 
 
130 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 back from Washington City where he had gone to 
 take a message of some kind to Abe, while he was in 
 the White House, he asked him if he knowed anybody 
 out in our neck of the woods, and Abe said he remem- 
 bered having a playmate named Austin, but he never 
 knowed what had become of him. You see it was me 
 he meant. Dr. Rodman told me about it the first time 
 he was doctoring in this neighborhood after he come 
 back. 
 
 "But I never had scratch of the pen from Abe. I 
 guess he would have writ me, all right, if I had sent 
 him a letter after he got to be President. But I never 
 was much of a hand at writing and I knowed Abe had 
 all he could do to look after the war and his other 
 business, so I didn't write. Sometimes I've been sorry 
 I didn't; fact is, I've often thought since that I should 
 have set down and wrote him and just asked him if 
 he recollected the time I saved his life by pullin' him 
 out of Knob Crick with a sycamore sprout. No tellin' 
 what he might have done for me. He might have made 
 me a judge — or a general." 
 
 Had this backwoods urchin not succeeded in pulling 
 his companion out of the water on that June morning, 
 the history of our country might read differently. 
 
Knob Creek 131 
 
 If Abraham Lincoln ever broke his promise to Austin 
 Gollaher, and told of his mishap at the creek, it is not 
 on record. But we do know from Dr. Rodman's remi- 
 niscences of his visit to the White House, which took 
 place in 1863, that, although a half-century had inter- 
 vened, Lincoln had not forgotten his Knob Creek chum. 
 While laughing over some of his boyhood pranks, the 
 President related the following incident to the Ken- 
 tucky physician: 
 
 "With weapons no more formidable than hickory 
 clubs, Austin Gollaher and I had been playing in the 
 woods and hunting rabbits. After several hours of 
 vigorous exercise we had stopped to rest. After a while 
 I threw down my cap, climbed a tree, and was resting 
 comfortably in the forks of two limbs. Below me, 
 stretched full length on the grass, was Austin, appar- 
 ently asleep. Beside him lay his cap, the inside facing 
 upward. 
 
 "In the pocket of my little jacket reposed a paw-paw 
 which I had shortly before found. The thought sud- 
 denly occurred to me that it would be great fun to 
 drop it into Austin's upturned cap. It was so ripe I 
 could scarcely withdraw it whole from my pocket. Tak- 
 ing careful aim, I let it fall. I had calculated just 
 right, for it struck the cap center and I could see por- 
 
132 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 tions of soft yellow paw-paw spattering in every di- 
 rection. 
 
 "I paused to observe the result, convinced that 
 Austin would resent the indignity; but, strange to re- 
 late, the proceeding failed to arouse him. Presently I 
 slid down the tree, but judge of my surprise, on reach- 
 ing the ground, when I learned that, instead of sleep- 
 ing, Austin had really been awake; and that while I 
 was climbing the tree he had very adroitly changed 
 caps, substituting my own for his, so that, instead of 
 tormenting him as I was intending, I had simply be- 
 smeared my own headgear." 
 
 In the Cabinet room at the White House, in the 
 presence of another visitor, a man from Kansas, Lin- 
 coln vividly recalled the exact arrangement of the fields 
 of the Knob Creek farm and one of his experiences as 
 a farmer's son. 
 
 "Mr. President," he was asked, "when the war is 
 over, how would you like to visit your old home in Ken- 
 tucky?" 
 
 "I would like it very much," Lincoln replied. "I re- 
 member that old home very well. Our farm was com- 
 posed of three fields. It lay in the valley, surrounded 
 by high hills and deep gorges. Sometimes, when there 
 came a big rain in the hills, the water would come 
 
Knob Creek 133 
 
 down through the gorges and spread all over the farm. 
 
 "The last thing I remember doing there was one 
 Saturday afternoon; the other boys planted corn in 
 what we called the big field; it contained seven acres 
 — and I dropped the pumpkin seed. I dropped two 
 seeds every other "hill and every other row. The next 
 Sunday morning there came a big rain in the hills; it 
 did not rain a drop in the valley, but the water com- 
 ing down through the gorges washed ground, corn, 
 pumpkin seeds and all clear off the field." 
 
 The Kentucky "Lincoln Country" remains to this 
 day practically unchanged from that long ago time 
 when little Abe Lincoln ran along its dusty roads in 
 summer — ran because the sun had heated those roads 
 to a degree which made standing still decidedly un- 
 comfortable for a barefoot boy. Aside from an occa- 
 sional house built during the last three quarters of a 
 century, and a few gasoline stations and refreshment 
 stands, it would seem a district which modern progress 
 had overlooked. 
 
 Nor are the people of this locality very much differ- 
 ent from those that little Abe knew. Spring follows 
 winter, corn crops are planted, summer comes with its 
 heat and drought, autumn and the harvests, winter 
 again. Children are born; they grow to womanhood 
 
134 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 and manhood, marry, bear their children, rejoice, sor- 
 row, grow old and die. Nature's cycle continues, but 
 life along Knob Creek remains very much the same. 
 ***** 
 
 Wolves were a serious menace to the Kentucky farm- 
 ers. They were so destructive to young live stock that 
 a bounty was paid for their scalps. For those of wolves 
 over six months old the bounty was six shillings, and 
 for scalps of younger wolves the price paid was four 
 shillings. To receive this reward the wolf-killer was 
 required to deliver the scalp to the county seat where 
 it was officially credited and a voucher issued for its 
 payment. 
 
 Although much has been written about Thomas Lin- 
 coln's prowess as a hunter, his name does not appear 
 on any of the old "wolf lists" of Hardin County. His 
 son, however, was to retain in memory at least one 
 picture of a hunt for these "prowlin' varmints, " which 
 he added to his seemingly inexhaustible stock of hu- 
 morous stories. 
 
 During the Civil War, President Lincoln took no 
 pains to conceal his disgust to Union officers who gave 
 to him boastful reports of their performances in bat- 
 tle. He never failed to convince the man who had exag- 
 gerated his achievements that he was perfectly in- 
 
Knob Creek 135 
 
 formed as to the true facts. One day, in dismissing 
 one of these, Lincoln related this tale, which harked 
 back to his boyhood days on Knob Creek, and which 
 illustrates his method of handling braggarts. 
 
 In repeating it to a friend, the Secretary of War, 
 Edwin M. Stanton, laughingly declared, "I would have 
 given my best hat, could you have seen that colonel's 
 face when the President had concluded. " This is the 
 story: 
 
 "These fellows who have put to flight, pursued, and 
 captured an army of 'Rebs/ " said the President, "re- 
 mind me of the Kentucky fellow who owned a dog, 
 which, so he said, just hungered and thirsted to com- 
 bat and eat up wolves. It was a difficult matter, so the 
 owner insisted, to keep that dog from devoting the en- 
 tire twenty-four hours to the destruction of his en- 
 emies. He just 'hankered' to get at them. 
 
 "One day a party of the dog-owner's friends thought 
 to have some sport. These friends heartily disliked 
 wolves and were anxious to see the dog eat up a thou- 
 sand or so. They organized a hunting party and in- 
 vited the dog-owner and the dog. They desired to be 
 personally present when the wolf-killing was in prog- 
 ress. But it was noticed that the dog-owner was not 
 over-anxious. He pleaded a 'business engagement'; 
 
136 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 but, as he was the most notorious and laziest of the 
 county's loafers, and wouldn't have recognized a 'busi- 
 ness engagement' had he met it face to face, his excuse 
 was not taken seriously. Therefore he had to go along. 
 
 "The dog, however, was glad enough to go, and so 
 the party started out. Wolves there were in plenty, 
 and soon a pack was discovered. But when the 'wolf 
 hound' saw the ferocious animals he lost heart and, 
 putting his tail between his legs, endeavored to slink 
 away. At last — after many trials — he was enticed into 
 a small growth of underbrush where the wolves had 
 secreted themselves, and yells of terror betrayed the 
 fact that the battle was on. Away flew the wolves, the 
 dog among them, the men following on horseback. 
 
 "The wolves seemed frightened and the dog was 
 fully restored to popular favor. It really looked as if 
 he had the savage creatures on the run, as he was 
 fighting heroically when last sighted. Wolves and dog 
 soon disappeared, and it was not until the party ar- 
 rived at a distant farmhouse that news of the com- 
 batants was gleaned. 
 
 " 'Have you seen anything of a wolf dog and a pack 
 of wolves around here?' was the question anxiously 
 put to the male occupant of the house, who leaned idly 
 against the gate. 
 
Knob Creek 137 
 
 " 'Yep/ was the short answer. 
 
 "'How were they goin'?' 
 
 " Turty fast/ 
 
 " 'What was their position when you last saw them?' 
 
 " 'Wal, the dog was a leetle ahead/ " 
 
 3|C !JC 3JC 3JC SfC 
 
 The Kentucky of Lincoln's childhood was haunted 
 by the shuddering fear of savages. After 1800 very few 
 Indians remained in this land but the settlers did not 
 know this. To them the forests were possible hiding 
 places of innumerable ferocious redskins. This fear of 
 the Indians continued for many years after there ceased 
 to be any need for it and boys were brought up on 
 Indian stories, many of which were of a hideous na- 
 ture. Whenever strangers stayed overnight in the Lin- 
 coln cabin, Indian stories were exchanged by the fire- 
 light, which would give Thomas Lincoln a chance to 
 repeat the story of his father's death, and this he never 
 failed to do. 
 
 Thomas Lincoln was a sociable, hospitable man. 
 Strangers — travelers and those in want — were never 
 turned from his door. In fact, they were urged to en- 
 ter, and make themselves "to home, jest like they wuz 
 one of the fambly." 
 
 One night a man was there who had been to Louis- 
 
138 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 ville with a raft of pelts and was now returning to his 
 home in a distant county. After supper the two men 
 sat by the fire and discussed hunting and trapping un- 
 til late into the night. Abe sat on the floor, eagerly 
 listening to every word as the visitor told about buf- 
 faloes and Indians, of a trip to a Government fort, 
 which was also a sort of trading post, located at a 
 mud hole on one of the northern lakes called "Chi- 
 cago," and of a visit to the nearer French trading post 
 on the Mississippi River known as "St. Louis." 
 
 The visitor, who said that he had sold a great many 
 furs, explained that he was using the money to pay 
 off his land in Kentucky. After a couple of more trips 
 he hoped to have money enough to quit the hard and 
 dangerous life of a trapper and buy a gang of slaves 
 to work his land, and take it easy the rest of his life. 
 
 "How many pelts make a raft-full, mister?" asked 
 Abe, who had often been warned by his father against 
 "buttin' in an* tryin' t' show off amongst strangers." 
 
 "Thousands of 'em!" 
 
 "You must have left a heap of little dead animals 
 without any hides on "em." 
 
 At this the trapper laughed heartily. "Yep, that's 
 a fack, sonny. But think of the whiskey and niggers 
 they'll pay fer." 
 
Knob Creek 139 
 
 "I think it would be a heap better to let 'em live 
 than to kill them fer such things as whiskey an' — " 
 
 Abe's sentence was never finished; for Thomas Lin- 
 coln's strong arm reached out and he slapped his son 
 on the side of the head with such violence that the 
 boy tumbled over. "Kain't I never larn ye to keep 
 yer mouth shet?" he exclaimed angrily. 
 
 Abe picked himself up and crawled away in silence. 
 The only visible evidence of the pain and humiliation 
 was a large tear which trickled down his cheek. 
 
 The trapper, naturally a keen observer, was im- 
 pressed with this fortitude. "Mr. Lincoln, that there 
 boy of yourn'll make a good trapper some of these 
 here days," he declared. "He don't give in to his feel- 
 ins' and let it git the best o' him." 
 
 "You don't know thet boy, Stranger. He won't make 
 no trapper. He's too chicken-hearted. The only thing 
 he'll ever be good fer is somethin' mild, like preachin' 
 mebbe. If he could have his way, everything that gits 
 kotched in traps, he'd turn loose. Why, the worst 
 beatin' I ever had to give him was onc't when he took 
 a young fox that was kotched in one of my traps and 
 let it go, meanin' a loss to me of 12 shillins', a heap o' 
 money fer these hard times." 
 
 While this story was being told, a smile came over 
 
140 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 Abe's thin little face. Again he could see the baby fox 
 as it dashed away, happy in its regained liberty that 
 he had made possible. He had found the little animal 
 out in the woods with its paw fast in the jaws of a 
 trap. It was crying, and when it saw him coming it 
 cried all the more; not as if it were afraid, but as if it 
 were pleading to him for help. He had reached down 
 and, with great difficulty, released the spring and 
 pulled the bruised little foot out. Without so much as 
 a grateful look to the boy, the little fox had scurried 
 into the thicket to find its mother. 
 
 * * * * He 
 
 It has been said that the child is the father of the 
 man. The good traits which were within Abraham 
 Lincoln as a Kentucky boy remained a part of his char- 
 acter throughout his days. As a man his sympathy 
 toward the lowliest of God's creatures did not abate, 
 and his sympathies toward distress among his fellow- 
 men increased. 
 
 Probably the most intimate friend that Lincoln ever 
 had was Joshua F. Speed, scion of a prominent old 
 Louisville family. Speed, as a young man, kept a gen- 
 eral store in Springfield, Illinois, and when Lincoln 
 moved to Springfield from New Salem to commence his 
 legal career, Speed shared his own room with him. 
 
Knob Creek 141 
 
 After the assassination of Lincoln, in an interview, 
 Joshua Speed, in recalling one of the many incidents 
 of Lincoln's kindness, said: 
 
 "Lincoln had the tenderest heart for anyone in dis- 
 tress, whether man, beast, or bird. Many of the gentle 
 and touching sympathies of his nature, which flowered 
 so frequently and beautifully in the humble citizen at 
 home, fruited in the sunlight of the world when he 
 had power and place. He carried to Washington from 
 his home on the prairies the same gentleness of dis- 
 position and kindness of heart." 
 
 After making this comment, Mr. Speed related the 
 following incident: 
 
 "Six gentlemen, I being one, Lincoln, Baker, Hardin, 
 and others, were riding along an Illinois country road 
 — strung along — two and two together. We were 
 passing through a thicket of wild plum and crab-apple 
 trees, where a violent wind storm had just occurred, 
 Lincoln and Hardin were behind. One of the party 
 discovered two young birds by the roadside, too young 
 to fly. They had been blown from their nest by the 
 storm. The old bird was fluttering about and wailing, 
 as a mother ever does for her babes. 
 
 "Lincoln stopped, hitched his horse, caught the 
 birds, hunted until he located the nest and placed them 
 
142 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 in it. The rest of us rode on to a creek, and while our 
 horses were drinking, Hardin rode up. 'Where is Lin- 
 coln?' said one. 'Oh, the last time I saw him he had 
 two little birds in his hand, hunting for their nest.' In 
 perhaps an hour he came, his clothes covered with mud. 
 We laughed at him. 
 
 "I shall never forget Lincoln's face as he said, with 
 much emphasis, 'Gentlemen, you may laugh, but I 
 could not have slept well to-night if I had not saved 
 those birds. Their cries would have rung in my ears/ 
 This is one of the flowers of Abraham Lincoln's prairie 
 life/' 
 
 X'liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiipwjr 
 pilllillllllllllllllllllllW 
 
 wiHuriiiiiiiiimiuiuittWj 
 
 ''£ii||llliiilliilllllliilij]||l 
 
 IIHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII! 
 
 , |!i;iiiiiiiii/iiiiiiiiniiiiiii;i 
 
 miiiffl 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 "GOOD-BYE" 
 
 THOMAS LINCOLN had a life-long interest in 
 river navigation, but he was no more success- 
 ful in his attempts at it than with his other 
 undertakings. In the White House, President Lincoln 
 once told this story: 
 
 "Father often told me of the trick that was played 
 upon him by a pair of sharpers. It was the year we 
 moved from Kentucky to Indiana that Father con- 
 cluded to take a load of pork down to New Orleans. 
 He had a considerable amount of his own, and he bar- 
 gained with the relatives and neighbors for their pork, 
 so that altogether he had quite a load. He took the 
 pork to the Ohio River on a clumsily constructed flat- 
 boat of his own make. 
 
 "Almost as soon as he pushed out into the river a 
 couple of sleek fellows bargained with him for the 
 cargo, and promised to meet him at New Orleans where 
 they promised to pay him the price agreed upon. He 
 eagerly accepted the offer, transferred the cargo to the 
 
 143 
 
144 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 strangers, and drifted down the river, his head filled 
 with visions of wealth and delight. He thought he was 
 going to accomplish what he had set out to do with- 
 out labor or inconvenience. Father waited about New 
 Orleans for several days, but failed to meet his whilom 
 friends. 
 
 "At last it dawned upon him that he had been sold, 
 and all that he could do was to come back home and 
 face the music. Now came the most disastrous turn 
 in my father's life, for he was obliged to sell his place 
 to pay for the pork that he had secured from the rela- 
 tives and neighbors. This unfortunate affair was the 
 cause of our removal to Indiana, where we all suffered 
 such extreme hardships and privations." 
 
 Troubles are said not to come singly. Abe Lincoln's 
 father had his full share in 1816. As was common at 
 this time, suits of ejectment were brought by non-resi- 
 dent claimants for a tract of Hardin County land in- 
 cluding several hundred fertile acres in the Knob Creek 
 Valley. Several of the small farmers of the region were 
 made defendants, and among them was Thomas Lin- 
 coln. At first Lincoln resolved to defend his occupancy, 
 his attorney being Worden Pope, one of the best land 
 lawyers in that part of Kentucky. 
 
 In litigations of this kind, the statutes of Kentucky 
 
"Good-Bye" US 
 
 favored the settlers who lived upon and worked their 
 lands, and the settlers also had the militant sympathy 
 of the judges and juries. There was every indication 
 that this suit would be won by the defendants, but 
 without waiting for a decision, Thomas Lincoln re- 
 solved to sell his farm and leave forever the contentious 
 soil of Kentucky. And we have Abraham Lincoln's 
 own word for it that his father's desire to leave was 
 "partly on account of slavery." 
 
 In Kentucky, slavery affected poor people like the 
 Lincolns in several ways. It was difficult for a white 
 man to obtain manual work; it caused sharper class 
 distinction between the poor, non-slaveholding class 
 and the wealthy owners of slaves. Even the negroes 
 owned by wealthy Kentuckians considered these peo- 
 ple their inferiors, calling them "po* white trash" as 
 did their masters. 
 
 The summer of 1816 slowly drifted into autumn; the 
 leaves of the trees, after their brief colorful glory, be- 
 gan to fall and disintegrate, a gloomy reminder that 
 human life follows the same course. Thomas Lincoln 
 had good reasons for feeling depressed; he was forty 
 years old and he had not prospered. The Knob Creek 
 home, as we have seen, was endangered by the suit of 
 the heirs of a Pennsylvanian, who, according to their 
 
146 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 allegation, held previous title to the Knob Creek farm. 
 
 During the intervening months the ejectment case 
 had come up for hearings on several occasions. De- 
 fence of the title of his farm had been costly to Thomas 
 Lincoln. Indiana, to the northwest, was soon to be 
 admitted to the Union as a free State. One of Thomas 
 Lincoln's brothers had already migrated there, as had 
 the widow and children of Hannaniah Lincoln. It was 
 probably these relatives that influenced Thomas Lin- 
 coln to select Indiana as his future abode. 
 
 He must have made a sudden decision to leave, for 
 on the 13th of May, 1816, he was ordered by the court 
 to see to it that the short road through Knob Creek 
 Valley from Muldraugh's Hill to the Rolling Fork be 
 kept in repair. Perhaps this court order quickened his 
 decision. Thomas Lincoln had little liking for public 
 service; and though the duties were slight, they would 
 have laid an additional burden upon him. 
 
 The Knob Creek farm was sold for three hundred 
 dollars, which amounted to ten dollars per acre. Most 
 of the purchase price was paid in whiskey, which in 
 Kentucky was commonly used for currency as well as 
 a beverage. At the mouth of Knob Creek, little Abe 
 Lincoln watched his father fell poplar trees, cut logs 
 and fashion them into a flatboat. 
 
"Good-Bye" 147 
 
 Knob Creek hurries to the Rolling Fork, a large 
 stream at the valley's end; and the Rolling Fork flows 
 into Salt River, which empties into the Ohio. This was 
 to be Thomas Lincoln's water route to "Indianny." 
 Leaving his family behind, he embarked in his crude 
 craft, the ten barrels of whiskey, his meager household 
 equipment, and tools forming the cargo. When Salt 
 River was reached the boat capsized and all its con- 
 tents were spilled into the water. Fortunately most of 
 the whiskey and some of the other articles were re- 
 covered. 
 
 Thus Thomas Lincoln continued to Indiana, like a 
 piece of human flotsam, thrown forward by the surging 
 tide of immigration. A deep, vast forest stretched for 
 many miles northward from the broad Ohio River. 
 After reaching the Indiana shore, where he deposited 
 his complete cargo with a man named Posey, Thomas 
 made his slow, toilsome way into this new land of 
 gloom and solitude. 
 
 The spot which Thomas Lincoln selected for a new 
 home is in the Pigeon Creek district on a slight eleva- 
 tion, within the limits of the present village of Lincoln 
 City. The soil was reasonably fertile, but it lacked a 
 good well. After selecting his farm, Thomas Lincoln 
 marked its bounds by chopping and piling a heap of 
 
148 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 brush at each of the four corners. Then he walked to 
 Vincennes and filed his claim, and from Vincennes he 
 walked the entire distance back to Knob Creek. 
 
 $ :ft $ $ $ 
 
 Toward the middle of November, after bidding fare- 
 well to their neighbors, the Lincoln family started for 
 Indiana. When Austin Gollaher, with a tear on his 
 grimy cheek, told Abe and his sister good-bye, he re- 
 minded Sarah that she had always been his sweetheart. 
 Two horses bore husband, wife and children, as well 
 as remnants of their poor belongings. Abe rode with 
 his father, and Sarah with her mother. A third horse 
 was used as a pack animal and loaded with the heavier 
 articles, such as bedding, cooking utensils, and tools. 
 
 The first stop was made at a spot near Nolin Creek, 
 where Nancy Lincoln took her children to the grave 
 of their brother, the infant Tommy. The mother ex- 
 plained that Tommy was "up in Heaven with God and 
 His angels," and that they would all be with him again 
 some day "if they was good." Abe gathered small stones 
 and placed them around the sides of the diminutive 
 mound which none of them would ever be able to visit 
 again. 
 
 The rains and storms of one hundred years have 
 beat upon this tiny grave, totally obliterating it. No 
 
"Good-Bye" 149 
 
 one knows where it is, no one will ever know; but 
 during the years that have rolled on, those residents 
 of the district who are steeped in Lincoln-lore have 
 meditated and idly speculated as to its location. Some 
 say he was buried in the hills; others that he sleeps 
 somewhere on the farm, and some claim that he was 
 laid away in the Little Mount Cemetery. 
 
 That night they stopped at the home of Thomas 
 and Betsy Sparrow, and the second night with Thomas' 
 aged mother, Bathsheba Lincoln, who was living in the 
 home of her daughter Nancy's husband, William Brum- 
 field, on Mill Creek. But the old lady, as she sat silent 
 in the chimney corner, gave no indication that she 
 shared her son's enthusiasm as to his prospects in 
 "Indianny." 
 
 Pioneering held no illusions for Bathsheba Lincoln; 
 she had seen its every phase, suffered all its hardships 
 and privations, and one of its countless tragedies had 
 cast a permanent shadow upon her life. Thirty years 
 of loneliness and dependence had come and gone since 
 that spring morning when she knelt with her children 
 over the bleeding body of her husband. 
 
 After Elizabethtown was passed, the first stop was 
 in Hardinsburg, an old town in Beckenridge County. 
 Here the little caravan halted before an imposing brick 
 
150 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 house, brilliantly lighted. Strains of sweet music floated 
 out and blended with the notes of those nocturnal mu- 
 sicians of the woods whose monotonous songs had ac- 
 companied the Lincolns along their journey. Within, 
 a levee was being held in honor of distinguished guests. 
 It was a gay assemblage of beautiful ladies and hand- 
 some gentlemen. To this fine house, Thomas Lincoln 
 sent Abe to replenish some of their exhausted supplies. 
 
 Sp 5J* *j* 5J* $3* 
 
 A quaint little volume called The Navigator, pub- 
 lished in Pittsburgh in 1818, contains interesting in- 
 formation about northern and central Kentucky as it 
 was when the Lincolns turned their backs upon the 
 State. The title page of the book announces among 
 its contents, "Directions of the Monongahela, Alle- 
 gheny, Ohio, and Mississippi rivers, with an ample ac- 
 count of these much admired waters from the head of 
 the former to the mouth of the latter, and a concise 
 description of their towns, villages, harbors, settle- 
 ments, etc." 
 
 Several old Kentucky towns are briefly described. 
 More is said about Boonesboro than Harrodsburg. 
 The former is given quite a lengthy notice, and one 
 observes that it is called a town, erroneously. 
 
 Louisville is mentioned. At the time in question it 
 
"Good-Bye" 151 
 
 was a town of 250 houses, a printing office, several 
 mercantile stores and warehouses and a post office. It 
 is described as being a port of entry and the seat of 
 justice. The town is said to have had several rope 
 walks which are referred to as being "extensively car- 
 ried on." There also had been a "valuable bagging 
 manufactory" but it seems to have been destroyed by 
 fire. 
 
 Lexington, though not the capital, is described as 
 the largest and most flourishing town in the State of 
 Kentucky. The account further reads: 
 
 "It is the seat of justice for Fayette County and is finely 
 situated in the heart of a well cultivated, thickly settled and 
 
 rich county It has a Court House, jail, market house, 
 
 richly supplied with the produce of the adjacent county, 4 
 places of public worship, a banking company, about 400 houses, 
 many of which are handsomely built, and 2,400 inhabitants, 
 30 mercantile stores, several of which are large wholesale 
 houses, a public academy and other well regulated schools, 2 
 printing offices issuing weekly papers, one book store, a book 
 bindery, a large duck manufactory, and another manufacturing 
 cotton and muslin, 4 large rope walks, 2 nail factories, and 
 many other useful manufactories carried on with spirit all of 
 which are duly encouraged by the body citizens, the only sure 
 pledge of their success." 
 
 Evidently the author was much impressed with Lex- 
 ington, for he says: 
 
152 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 Lexington, in fact, is a place of great business, and the in- 
 habitants seem peculiarly and happily calculated to enjoy their 
 situation and the hospitality and friendship of each other. This 
 prevailing disposition in the people makes the place very 
 
 lively and highly agreeable to strangers Near Lexington 
 
 are found curious sepulchres full of human skeletons, and the 
 remains of two ancient fortifications furnished with ditches 
 and bastions, overgrown with large trees. A regularly walled 
 well is also said to have been discovered by a person digging 
 5 to 6 feet beneath the surface; over the mouth of the well a 
 large flat stone was found. 
 
 Frankfort is given least prominence in The Navi- 
 gator. The town is described as the seat of the govern- 
 ment of the State, and as improving fast in buildings, 
 manufactories, etc. The town, it says, had a well-con- 
 ducted penitentiary in which the criminals of the State 
 worked at various mechanical branches and at labor 
 during their terms of confinement. The town, the book 
 states, had recently secured an extensive bagging fac- 
 tory in which about twenty-five hands, black men and 
 boys, were engaged in spinning, weaving, etc. Then it 
 goes on to say: 
 
 "An extensive rope walk has been erected at the edge of town 
 and is calculated to do business largely. And a steamboat, that 
 is a large boat to be propelled by the power of steam, is on the 
 stocks a little above the town. She is intended for the trade of 
 the Ohio and Mississippi rivers/' 
 
 Further we find: 
 
"Good-Bye" 153 
 
 "The buildings of Frankfort are principally of brick and of a 
 handsome style. The State house is a large 3 story building 
 and stands in the middle of a large yard, and like too many 
 public things, appears much neglected for want of repairs and 
 cleanliness. The new bank is a handsome brick building and 
 stands in range with the new bridge and the State House 
 
 "A mile below Frankfort there is a saw and grist mill in the 
 river, which at low water does a good deal of business, but it 
 is not uncommon to see it completely covered by the floods of 
 the river, to withstand which it has no roof and is open on all 
 sides and heavily loaded down on the corners and in the middle 
 of the frame at the top with piles of stones. Thus goes on the 
 improvements of the interior America whose inhabitants begin 
 to feel and act like the citizens of an independent nation, pos- 
 sessing an extent of country capable of producing from the 
 luxury of its soil and variety of climate everything which ought 
 to make a people happy and independent of all venemous com- 
 binations of maddened Europe." 
 
 What the "venemous combinations" were, the au- 
 thor does not say, but apparently he had no love for 
 any of the people of Europe. 
 
 Some interesting information is given as to the navi- 
 gation of the Ohio and in this connection the writer 
 makes some very caustic remarks about the quality of 
 boats built in Kentucky. Evidently he did not consider 
 them very dependable and suggests in plain terms that: 
 
 "The first thing to be attended to by emigrants or traders 
 wanting to descend the river is to procure a boat to be ready 
 to take advantage of the times of flood and to be careful 
 
154 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 that the boat is a good one. For many of the accidents that 
 happen in navigating the Ohio are owing to the unpardonable 
 carelessness or penuriousness of the boatbuilders who will fre- 
 quently slight their work or make boats of injured planks, in 
 either case putting the lives and property of a great many peo- 
 ple at a manifest hazard. This egregious piece of misconduct 
 should long before this have been rectified by the appointment 
 of boat inspectors at the different places where boats are built. 
 But as this has never been done, it behoves every purchaser 
 of Kentucky boats, which is the sort here alluded to, to get 
 it narrowly examined before the embarkation by persons who 
 are well acquainted with the strength and form of a boat suit- 
 able for a voyage of this kind." 
 
 It will be seen from this that Kentucky was not then 
 famous for its boatbuilding, but it earned a fine reputa- 
 tion in other respects, which goes to show that for the 
 settler it had many attractions. In this connection, 
 The Navigator does it justice, and Kentuckians can 
 excuse the remarks about the tricky work of their 
 pioneer boatbuilders who, in using an occasional rot- 
 ten plank, made navigation of the Ohio rather haz- 
 ardous at times, as in the case of Thomas Lincoln. 
 * * * * * 
 
 On a certain evening of May, 1860, Colonel David 
 R. Murray, dignified and old, sat at the head of the 
 dining table in his mansion at Cloverport, Kentucky. 
 The Colonel, deeply engrossed in a newspaper that had 
 
Good-Bye" 
 
 i55 
 
 just been brought in by one of his dusky servants, was 
 apparently oblivious of the various members of his 
 family who surrounded him. He was reading about 
 the nomination of "Hon. Abram Lincoln, of Illinois" 
 for President of the United States. Mr. Lincoln had, 
 
 the paper stated, been chosen by a majority of 102, in 
 a huge building called the "Wigwam" in Chicago, 
 which had been especially erected for the Republican 
 National Convention. 
 
 Finally Colonel Murray tossed the paper to the floor 
 and sighed. If this man Lincoln should be elected, he 
 mused, it would mean war; the Southern States would 
 never tolerate this man — and hot-blooded Kentucky 
 would very likely be brought into the struggle. 
 
 "Logan," he said, addressing the tall boy at his right. 
 
156 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 "Go out to the dairy and tell Minerva that I wish to 
 see her." 
 
 "Yes, Father," replied the youth. He rose and left 
 the room. 
 
 A few seconds later a large, fat negress waddled into 
 the room and the boy returned to the table. 
 
 "You wished to see me, Massa Cunnel?" she beamed. 
 
 "Yes, Minerva," replied her master, "I want to ask 
 you a question." 
 
 "Yassah — yassah !" 
 
 "Minerva, do you remember, more than forty years 
 ago, as I was entering my house in Hardinsburg, that 
 I talked to a poor family in the road and you were giv- 
 ing milk to a skinny little boy on the doorstep?" 
 
 "Yassah, yassah! Ah remembers dat!" 
 
 "And I inquired their name and where they were 
 going — they were going to Indiana — do you remember 
 that, Minerva?" 
 
 The black woman paused for a moment and scratched 
 her woolly head. "Yassah! Ah remembers dat, too! 
 They wuz a mighty po' fambly and dey wuz goin' to 
 Indianny, all right." 
 
 "Do you remember what their name was, Minerva?" 
 
 "Dat ah does, Massa Cunnel! Dere name wuz 
 Linkum." 
 
"Good-Bye" 157 
 
 "Yes, that was it — Lincoln — that was the name as 
 I recall it. Minerva, that skinny little boy became a 
 successful lawyer, up in Illinois, and the other day he 
 was nominated for President of the United States by 
 the Republicans. " 
 
 Minerva threw up her arms in amazement. "Lawdy, 
 lawdy!" she shouted in her best camp meeting tone. 
 "Den it mus' sholy be a miricle!" 
 
 "You may go, Minerva. " 
 
 After the negress had left the room, Colonel Mur- 
 ray said to himself, "Lincoln — Abraham Lincoln — that 
 half-starved little lad from a white trash family, that 
 Minerva fed at my house forty years ago! And now 
 the Black Republicans are running him for President. 
 Well I'll be damned I" 
 
 From Hardinsburg the family dragged on to Clover- 
 port, a quaint little river town, and thence on to 
 Hawesville. A few miles further west they crossed 
 the Ohio River on the Tobinsville ferry. The entire 
 distance traveled from Knob Creek to the Indiana 
 shore did not exceed eighty miles; and sixteen more 
 miles placed them on the site of their new home where 
 a half-faced camp would be erected. The trails were 
 fairly well established and they had little difficulty in 
 
158 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 getting lodgings along the way. The entire journey 
 probably occupied five days. 
 
 After leaving Posey's Landing, the immigrants made 
 their way slowly toward Pigeon Creek. Thomas Lin- 
 coln felled trees, cut away underbrush and vines, and 
 made openings through which the horses could pass. 
 Over stumps, rocks, across gullies, bogs, mounds and 
 soggy ground they crept on and on until they finally 
 reached the new home site in the densely wooded soli- 
 tudes of Indiana. Here Abraham Lincoln, nearing his 
 eighth birthday, was to spend the next fourteen years 
 of his life. 
 
 The first Lincoln Highway began at the modest 
 abode on Nolin Creek in Kentucky. It ran across In- 
 diana to Illinois, continued on to Chicago, the metrop- 
 olis of the Midwest, thence to the Capital of the nation, 
 and back to Springfield, Illinois, its terminus. On that 
 highway, through the years, trod a character anointed 
 for a great and noble task. Like a soldier of the cross, 
 impelled by a force that he could not resist and prob- 
 ably could not even understand, Abraham Lincoln 
 walked to his doom; to be carried back over the last 
 two-thirds of that highway, made wet with a nation's 
 tears, to the peace that he had longed for. 
 
EPILOGUE 
 
 " A BRAHAM LINCOLN is dead!" 
 
 / % On the morning of April 15, 1865, tele- 
 
 A V graph wires all over the nation began to hum 
 with the news of the most pulsing tragedy the country 
 has ever known. On the night before, the President 
 had been shot by an assassin; he had died at the break 
 of day. 
 
 "Yes, Abraham Lincoln is dead!" 
 
 The nation stood awed, dreading the confirmation 
 that would come later; for it felt that this was but a 
 hideous rumor. "Who would strike down Honest Abe 
 — it can't be true!" 
 
 Presently the confirming message came. Telegraph 
 operators, with faces tense, clenched the keys of their 
 instruments as they sped these messages on. 
 
 Bright sunshine bathed the fields and mansion on a 
 farm not far from the little city of Lexington, Ken- 
 tucky. But that night the first whispering winds of 
 spring grew mournful as they caressed the trees and 
 grasses. Memories, like legions of romantic ghosts, 
 seemed to hover over all; memories of two lovers who, 
 
 159 
 
160 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 with hands entwined, had ofttimes strolled over these 
 same meadows in the moonlight, and who had paused 
 in the shadow of one of the great trees to plight their 
 troth anew. 
 
 The man, tall and gaunt, with a sad yet strong face, 
 a face radiant with the understanding of a great soul. 
 The woman, elegant and gracious, with the charm of 
 Southern aristocracy, inspired with visions wherein the 
 man by her side stood facing a deathless destiny. These 
 were Abraham Lincoln and Mary Todd, his wife. 
 
 "But Abraham Lincoln is dead!" 
 
 Although the assassination had taken place on the 
 night of April 14, the news was not published in Ken- 
 tucky until the following Tuesday, April 18, when the 
 Frankfort Commonwealth, a, semi-weekly newspaper 
 published at the Capital, printed its regular issue of 
 that date. It said: 
 
 This terrible news was received by our community Saturday 
 morning with feelings of profound regret. Nearly every coun- 
 tenance was depicted with the deepest sorrow, for all felt that 
 a great blow had been inflicted upon the land — that the country 
 had suffered a great loss. And the tidings came so suddenly, 
 changing our rejoicings into lamentations, and filling us with 
 sadness over the great woe that has fallen upon us, that it was 
 the more deeply felt and lamented. 
 
 On the same page was a proclamation issued by 
 

 m \ # 
 
 
 
 1 ■ Ikspm 
 ■ t _. 
 
 
 f. /<r^y| # *a "*. J Willi .; 
 
 / ■ ^^.. If 
 
 r/i 
 
 : v .> / # ' 
 
 .-. ■■■ ^5 
 
 i ^ ** * ■ ■ « JK 
 
 In what a strange world the simple country attorney found himself 
 
Epilogue 161 
 
 Governor Bramlette, the last two paragraphs contain- 
 ing this : 
 
 On Wednesday, the 19th instant, at the hour of twelve A.M., 
 the hour of his funeral, let every church bell be tolled through- 
 out the commonwealth ; and on that day let all business be sus- 
 pended, and all business houses be closed; let the public offices 
 be closed and draped in mourning. 
 
 The citizens of Kentucky are invoked to pay honor to the 
 national grief which such a great sorrow inspires. 
 
 This newspaper carried a detailed account of the 
 tragedy written by the Washington correspondent of 
 a Cincinnati paper. It also gave the story of a simul- 
 taneous attempt upon the life of the Secretary of State, 
 Mr. Seward, and a description of the inauguration of 
 Andrew Johnson, the Vice-President, who succeeded 
 Lincoln as President of the United States. The general 
 excitement in the national capital was graphically told 
 in another column. 
 
 "Yes, Abraham Lincoln is dead." 
 
 But each year when the first breath of spring again 
 whispers over Buena Vista, the old Todd farm in Ken- 
 tucky, there is a vague mystery in it that denies that 
 he is dead. 
 
 There were several love affairs in Abraham Lincoln's 
 life. 
 
162 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 After the death of his first sweetheart, Ann Rut- 
 ledge, in the summer of 1835, Lincoln, then a back- 
 woods Illinois legislator, surveyor, and postmaster, 
 was broken-hearted almost to the extent of mental 
 derangement. Joshua Speed, who had returned to his 
 
 Louisville, Kentucky, home, persuaded Lincoln to spend 
 the autumn with him, which he did. There, for the 
 first time in his life, Lincoln was thrown into the so- 
 ciety of women of culture. Speed's mother, and his 
 sister, Mary, proved to be excellent nurses, and in this 
 fine old Southern home, the invalid soon regained his 
 health and mental equilibrium. 
 
Epilogue 163 
 
 A year later Lincoln was in love again. This time 
 the heroine was Mary Owens, an attractive but some- 
 what bulky Kentucky maid. His letters written to this 
 girl reveal him as a hesitant lover, rather awed by the 
 charm and culture of Miss Owens. She, in turn, con- 
 sidered Lincoln hopelessly deficient in the qualities of 
 refinement which make up the chain of a woman's af- 
 fections and happiness. 
 
 The next, and final, romance came several years later, 
 when Lincoln, after a somewhat hectic courtship, mar- 
 ried a beautiful Kentucky belle, Mary Todd, daughter 
 of Robert S. Todd, a wealthy banker of Lexington. 
 Although her fiery and ungovernable temper brought 
 her husband many an unhappy hour, there can be no 
 doubt but that she was an important factor in his suc- 
 cess. They were married in Springfield, Illinois, on the 
 4th of November, 1842, at the home of the bride's sister, 
 Mrs. Ninian Edwards. 
 
 Four sons were born to them; Robert Todd Lincoln, 
 born in 1843, Edward Baker Lincoln, in 1846, William 
 Wallace Lincoln, 1850, and Thomas, nicknamed "Tad," 
 in 1853. Of these, Edward died in infancy; Willie died 
 in the White House; Thomas outlived his father but 
 six years; Robert, the eldest, lived until 1926. 
 
164 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 On October 28, 1847, the Illinois Weekly Journal, 
 published at Springfield, printed the following news 
 item: 
 
 Mr. Lincoln, the member of Congress-elect from this district, 
 has just set out on his way to the city of Washington. His 
 family is with him; they intend to visit their friends and rela- 
 tives in Kentucky before they take up their line of march for 
 the seat of government. Success to our talented member of 
 Congress. He will find as many men in Congress who possess 
 twice the good looks, and not half the good sense of our own 
 Representative. 
 
 On a raw November morning when the train drew 
 into the depot at Lexington, among the passengers who 
 alighted were the Honorable Abraham Lincoln, his 
 wife, and their two small sons. With them was Joseph 
 Humphries, a cousin of Mrs. Lincoln, who had ridden 
 from Frankfort on the same train. Lincoln was wear- 
 ing a close-fitting cap and heavy ear muffs, a long coat, 
 such as were affected by statesmen in those days, and 
 snuff-colored trousers. They were met by the Todd 
 coachman and, with their baggage, were driven in an 
 open barouche to the Todd mansion on Main Street. 
 
 For the next three weeks Lincoln enjoyed the first 
 real vacation of his life. In the well-stocked library 
 of his father-in-law he found his most pleasant diver- 
 sion. Members of the Todd family remembered that 
 
Epilogue 
 
 i65 
 
 he would sit for hours reading, totally oblivious of the 
 romping and chattering of the children of the house 
 and those of his own. 
 
 Among these several hundred excellent books there 
 
 Mary Todd Lincoln 
 
 were a copy of The Messages of the Presidents, Gib- 
 bon's History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, 
 Prentice's two-volume Life of Henry Clay, a set of 
 Shakespeare in eight volumes, The Life of Oliver Crom- 
 well, The Poems of Robert Burns, a Life of Napoleon, 
 
166 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 Byron's Don Juan, Pope's Essays in five volumes, and 
 Nile's Register in fifty-eight volumes. 
 
 But the book which Lincoln read more than all the 
 others was a volume of poetry entitled: Elegant Ex- 
 tracts, or Useful and Entertaining Passages from the 
 Best English Authors and Translations. Several of 
 these "extracts" he committed to memory and recited 
 to members of the household. A poem captioned "On 
 Receipt of My Mother's Picture" impressed him so 
 that he drew a hand, with the index finger pointing to 
 this stanza: 
 
 "Oh that those lips had language! Life has pass'd 
 With me but roughly since I heard thee last. 
 Those lips are thine — thy own sweet smile I see, 
 The same that oft in childhood solaced me." 
 
 We may be sure that this verse had recalled from 
 the dim, far-away past, a mental picture of his own 
 beloved mother, the only picture of her that he ever 
 possessed. Nancy Hanks Lincoln had died in the au- 
 tumn of 1818, before photography was invented, when 
 her son was but nine years of age. 
 
 Abraham Lincoln was a product of the library rather 
 than of the school; he was practically self-educated 
 through the reading of good books. As an example of 
 what can be achieved with books, it would be well for 
 
Epilogue 167 
 
 every public library in the world to have a likeness of 
 Lincoln displayed prominently within its building. "I 
 have not been to school much/' he once said. "What 
 little advance I now have has been picked up from time 
 to time under the pressure of necessity." 
 
 There were old people in Lexington who talked with 
 the tall visitor from Illinois about his great-uncle, 
 Thomas Lincoln, a colorful Kentucky pioneer charac- 
 ter. And there were those who recollected their former 
 townsman, Denton Offutt, for whom Lincoln, sixteen 
 years before, had worked as a flatboatman, store clerk, 
 and mill hand at New Salem, Illinois. The bombastic 
 little promoter had been Lincoln's first sponsor. 
 
 Boasting of his employee's "wonderful intellectual 
 acquirements, " Offutt once put up a bet that "Abe Lin- 
 coln could out-run, out-whop, and throw down any 
 man in Sangamon County." This praise of his physical 
 strength had resulted in Lincoln's defeating Jack 
 Armstrong, the local bully, in a wrestling match. It 
 was while working at Offutt's store at New Salem 
 that Lincoln earned his enviable reputation for scrupu- 
 lous honesty, and the nickname, "Honest Abe." 
 
 But this visit to Lexington furnished something of 
 far greater importance to Lincoln than a recalling to 
 memory of places, people, and events of bygone days. 
 
168 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 Slavery was the outstanding political question of the 
 day. Here he got a personal contact with the "peculiar 
 institution" that he could not have otherwise experi- 
 enced. Here he availed himself of the opportunity to 
 study at close range this vexatious problem in all its 
 aspects. He saw slave-jails, the auction block, and, 
 from the public whipping post, heard the piteous cries 
 of the bondmen. 
 
 There was also another side of the picture. On many 
 estates of the Bluegrass, and in the home of his father- 
 in-law, Lincoln saw happy, contented negroes singing 
 at their work, bound to their "white folks" by the 
 stronger and more enduring bonds of mutual affection. 
 Undoubtedly this actual contact with slavery, this first- 
 hand knowledge of both sides of the vital problem, bet- 
 ter equipped Lincoln for the seven memorable joint 
 debates with Stephen A. Douglas that brought him into 
 national prominence and ultimately to the Presidency. 
 
 Throughout Illinois, during the hot summer of 1858, 
 while combating the "Little Giant," the tall sinewy 
 "Railsplitter" calmly and dispassionately announced 
 his position on this burning issue. He was not an Aboli- 
 tionist, he said; though he believed slavery to be a 
 great moral wrong and he was irrevocably against it, 
 he "had no purpose to interfere with the institution" 
 
Epilogue 169 
 
 in the States where it legally existed, because he was 
 not willing to defy the fundamental laws of the land. 
 
 During the period of Lincoln's stay in Lexington, 
 his political hero, Henry Clay, was at Ashland, his sub- 
 urban estate, and Mrs. Lincoln must have taken her 
 husband there to see him. Though his son, Henry Clay, 
 Jr., had been killed a short time before on a Mexican 
 battlefield, the aged Whig leader bore his bereavement 
 with calm fortitude and continued to ponder the grave 
 questions then vexing the nation. 
 
 The Lexington Observer printed an announcement 
 that Mr. Clay would deliver a speech on Saturday, 
 November 13, at the courthouse, on the conduct of the 
 Mexican War. By Friday evening the taverns were 
 packed with visitors who had traveled hundreds of 
 miles to hear the "Sage of Ashland. " On that Satur- 
 day morning, although it rained steadily, the crowd 
 was so great that the meeting was adjourned to a 
 large warehouse on Water Street, where a temporary 
 platform was erected. 
 
 Here, before an audience that contained men from 
 the majority of the States of the Union, Clay delivered 
 one of the ablest and most statesman-like addresses 
 of his long career. It was a bitter attack against the 
 National Administration for having brought about the 
 
170 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 Mexican War, which the speaker argued would have 
 been averted had not General Taylor been ordered to 
 transport his cannon opposite Matamoras, on the east 
 bank of the Rio Grande, within the district over which 
 the two countries were disputing. 
 
 This address probably influenced Lincoln; for on the 
 floor of Congress, he also made repeated and bitter at- 
 tacks against President Polk, whom he charged with 
 having wantonly brought about the war with Mexico. 
 This attitude proved unpopular with his constituents, 
 and Lincoln was not renominated for Member of Con- 
 gress in 1850, which appeared to end his political ca- 
 reer. 
 
 Clay brought his discourse to a close with a restate- 
 ment of his stand on the slavery question. "My opin- 
 ions on the subject of slavery are well known/' he said. 
 "They have the merit, if it be one, of consistency, uni- 
 formity, and long duration. I have ever regarded slav- 
 ery as a great evil, a wrong, for the present ; I fear an 
 irremediable wrong to its unfortunate victims. I should 
 rejoice if not a single slave breathed the air within the 
 limits of our country." 
 
 This great meeting was an important event in Lin- 
 coln's life. Although thirty-eight years old, and about 
 to enter the National Forum, he had heard but one 
 
Epilogue 171 
 
 other speaker of renown — Daniel Webster — and no 
 doubt Henry Clay's bitterness toward slavery tended 
 to strengthen his own views on the subject. It was 
 not the first time, however, that Lincoln had heard the 
 great Whig leader speak. A few years before, while 
 campaigning for the Whigs, Lincoln had visited Ken- 
 tucky and was entertained by Clay at Ashland. 
 
 November was drawing to a close, and so was Lin- 
 coln's vacation. On Thanksgiving Day, the Illinois 
 Congressman-elect heard a sermon by Dr. Robert J. 
 Breckenridge, whose scathing attacks upon slavery he 
 had so often read in the Observer. Sitting in the quaint, 
 dim old Presbyterian church, Lincoln little realized that 
 the time was not far away when he would come to rely 
 upon this Crusader of the Cloth during the anxious 
 days of the Civil War. 
 
 On the afternoon of that Thanksgiving Day, the 
 Lincoln family bade farewell to Lexington and boarded 
 the stage for Maysville from where they were to take 
 a steamboat up the Ohio river, on the first lap of their 
 journey to the National Capital. That was the last 
 time the feet of Abraham Lincoln ever trod upon Ken- 
 tucky soil. 
 
 »fc ate \Lf jjft $£. 
 
 When, on May 16, 1860, the Republican National 
 
172 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 Convention assembled in Chicago, William H. Seward 
 and Salmon P. Chase were the chief contenders for 
 the Presidency, with the Springfield lawyer trailing far 
 behind as the "dark horse. " When the delegates ad- 
 journed on the second day, reporters telegraphed their 
 newspapers that Seward would be nominated the next 
 morning. But unforeseen forces of destiny were at 
 work. The middle course that the Southern-born Lin- 
 coln had taken in regard to slavery, his good temper 
 and sympathy for those who did not agree with him, 
 now stood him in good stead. 
 
 Between midnight and dawn a small coterie of res- 
 olute men from Kentucky and other Border States 
 went from delegation to delegation urging, pleading 
 the availability of Lincoln. They reminded the dele- 
 gates from Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania, New Jersey 
 and Kansas that Seward was a radical on the slavery 
 question, while Lincoln's well-known conservatism in 
 the event of war, would hold Kentucky, Missouri, and 
 Maryland true to the Union. 
 
 "We want you to name Abraham Lincoln," they 
 said. "He was born in Kentucky and reared among 
 us, and we believe he understands us." On Friday 
 morning on the third ballot, in the midst of a pande- 
 monium which racked the rafters of the convention 
 
Epilogue 
 
 173 
 
 "Wigwam," the Republican Party made its priceless 
 contribution to history and to the freedom of mankind. 
 Abraham Lincoln was elected President of the United 
 States on the following 6th of November. 
 
 Lincoln did not, at first, inspire his associates at 
 
 /£sar 
 
 
 Washington with confidence in his ability to meet the 
 impending crisis. When he appointed Mr. Seward Sec- 
 retary of State, the latter, assuming that Lincoln was 
 a man of low mentality, without ability to direct the 
 government, proceeded to write the President a letter 
 in which he proposed himself as a dictator, to perform 
 the actual work of Chief Executive. Instead of dis- 
 missing and disgracing this presumptuous minister, 
 
174 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 Lincoln merely told him in private that he, Abraham 
 Lincoln, was President, and rested to let time prove 
 his abilities of leadership. 
 
 Edwin M. Stanton, among other things, had referred 
 to Lincoln as "a big baboon/' yet Lincoln recognized 
 his peculiar fitness for the office of Secretary of War, 
 and appointed him. Stanton was to learn not only to 
 appreciate his chief, but to love him. Lincoln explained 
 Stanton's case in this way: "If a man cease attacking 
 me, I never remember the past against him." 
 
 After George B. McClellan was made Commanding 
 General of the Union Army, he repeatedly insulted the 
 President, but with his usual forbearance, Lincoln said: 
 "If McClellan will give us victories, I am willing to 
 stand and hold his horse." But those victories never 
 came and eventually McClellan had to go. 
 
 Watching the President's lank face grow gray with 
 sorrow and his square shoulders stoop beneath the bur- 
 den of a Nation's woe, we find his young secretary, 
 John Hay, confiding to his diary: 
 
 He is managing this war, the draft, foreign relations, and 
 planning a reconstruction of the Union all at once. I never 
 knew with what tyrannous authority he rules the Cabinet until 
 now. The most important things he decides and there is no 
 cavil. I am growing more convinced that the country absolutely 
 demands that he should be kept where he is till this thing is 
 
Epilogue 175 
 
 over. There is no man in the country so wise, so gentle, and 
 so firm. 
 
 The record of his magnanimity renders Abraham 
 Lincoln unique among all the rulers that the earth has 
 ever known. He practiced it both in its application to 
 individuals and to the enemy in the field. "I have not 
 suffered by the South," he said, "I have suffered with 
 the South. Their sorrow has been my sorrow — and 
 their pain has been my pain. What they have lost, I 
 have lost. And what they have gained, I have gained." 
 Yes, Abraham Lincoln loved the South, as well as the 
 North. 
 
 Lincoln always hated slavery, yet he realized that, 
 according to the Constitution as it then existed, the 
 slave-holder was invested with legal property rights in 
 his slaves. And Lincoln believed literally in the ad- 
 monition of Jesus: "Render unto Caesar the things 
 that are Caesar's, and unto God, the things that are 
 God's." He would have prevented the Civil War by 
 rendering unto the taskmaster the price of the slave; 
 he would have by that peaceful and more economical 
 method, have lifted the bondman out of his degrada- 
 tion and rendered him unto God's enlightenment. 
 
 Lincoln proposed that $400 be paid for each slave; 
 a good price in the current market. On this basis there 
 
176 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 were about $750,000 worth of slaves in Delaware. The 
 cost of conducting the war was around two million 
 dollars a day; and for one-third of one day's expense 
 all the slaves in Delaware could have been purchased! 
 All the slaves in Delaware, Maryland, Kentucky and 
 Missouri could have been bought, at the same rate, for 
 less than the cost of the war for eighty-seven days; 
 and it lasted for more than four years. 
 
 He was prevented from doing this, and the war 
 came. The plan was objected to by the Cabinet on the 
 ground that it would be far too expensive to be prac- 
 tical. Time has proven Lincoln wiser than his advis- 
 ers. 
 
 The war came. In what a strange world the simple 
 country attorney found himself! President of the 
 United States — Commander-in-Chief of the Army — 
 and the Navy! Lincoln never felt more lonely and God- 
 forsaken than in the weeks following his first call for 
 volunteers, after it had begun to bear its bitter fruit. 
 As the war wore on and Lincoln demonstrated his 
 unique qualities of leadership, people who visited him 
 at the White House said that his was the saddest face 
 they had ever seen. To one woman he said: "I shall 
 never be glad any more; the springs of life are wearing 
 away and I shall not last." 
 
Epilogue 
 
 177 
 
 On January 1, 1863, there flashed over the telegraph 
 lines from Washington, the official announcement of 
 the crowning act of Abraham Lincoln's life. He had 
 signed and issued a Proclamation of Emancipation! 
 With the New Year, as a war measure, the President 
 had ushered in a document destined to bring about the 
 
 ^1L 
 
 political regeneration of the American people. Slaves 
 within the boundaries of States and districts then in 
 rebellion against the National authority were, in the 
 Lincolnian phraseology, to be "then, thenceforward, 
 and forever free." 
 
 Back in Central Illinois, old John Hanks laid aside 
 his newspaper with this comment: "Wal, at last Abe 
 
178 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 got up his spunk an' put out a proclermation freein' th' 
 niggers/' and the old man recalled the flatboat trip that 
 he and his twenty-one year old cousin, Abraham Lin- 
 coln, had made to New Orleans together in 1830, and 
 how Lincoln, while watching a slave auction, uttered 
 these strangely prophetic words, "If I can ever hit that 
 thing, I'll hit it, and by God, I'll hit it hard." 
 
 On that cold, drizzly February morning in 1860, 
 when Lincoln stood on the rear platform of the little 
 train at Springfield that was to take him to Washing- 
 ton, as he looked down into the faces of his friends, 
 he realized that he probably would have to lay down 
 his life for that cause to which it had been dedicated. 
 With tears in his eyes, he said: 
 
 "My friends: No one, not in my situation, can ap- 
 preciate my feeling of sadness at this parting. To this 
 place, and the kindness of these people, I owe every- 
 thing. Here I have lived a quarter of a century, and 
 have passed from a young to an old man. Here my 
 children have been born, and one is buried. I now 
 leave, not knowing when or whether ever I may re- 
 turn, with a task before me greater than that which 
 rested upon Washington. Without the assistance of 
 that Divine Being who ever attended him, I cannot 
 succeed. With that assistance, I cannot fail. Trusting 
 
Epilogue 179 
 
 in Him, who can go with me, and remain with you, 
 and be everywhere for good, let us confidently hope 
 that all will yet be well. To His care commending you 
 as I hope in your prayers you will commend me, I bid 
 you an affectionate farewell. " 
 
 The whistle blew; the years of preparation were 
 ended, the martyrdom had begun. Even then, plots 
 were under way to kill him. Four years and two months 
 later, just after the fall of the Confederate Capital and 
 the surrender of General Lee, the brandy-crazed assas- 
 sin's brief moment came, and Abraham Lincoln paid 
 "that last full measure of devotion" of which he had 
 so feelingly spoken at Gettysburg. But he had saved 
 the Union — he had finished his work. 
 # * * * # 
 
 Before us were four rows of broad stone steps lead- 
 ing up to the temple-like building which crowned the 
 crest of the little knoll. On each side of these steps 
 the well-kept grass spread like a luxurious carpet, and 
 on each side of the building, as if on sentinel duty, 
 stood great trees, richly garbed in summer foliage. 
 Against the brilliant blue sky which formed a back- 
 ground for all this, soft, pearl-tinted clouds drifted, 
 propelled by the gentle summer breeze. 
 
 It was one of those pictures which Nature and man 
 
180 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 had combined to make beautiful; it was a picture 
 such as a painter of mythological subjects would have 
 revelled in; for here, surrounded by colors of bright 
 and sombre greens, blues, purples, and browns, was a 
 temple which, twenty centuries before, might have been 
 dedicated to some Greek or Roman deity. 
 
 To this spot, in one of the most isolated districts in 
 America, we are told that a hundred thousand people 
 come annually — an excellent argument that place does 
 not make the man, but that the man makes the place. 
 And after one of these pilgrims out of that hundred 
 thousand has walked up those steps and stands before 
 the six granite pillars of the portico, he reads high 
 above them, in letters chiselled deep into the stone, 
 these words: 
 
 HERE 
 OVER THE LOG CABIN WHERE LINCOLN 
 WAS BORN, DESTINED TO PRESERVE THE 
 UNION AND FREE THE SLAVE, A GRATE- 
 FUL PEOPLE HAVE DEDICATED THIS 
 MEMORIAL TO UNITY, PEACE AND BROTH- 
 ERHOOD AMONG THESE STATES 
 
 Just underneath are carved words from one of the 
 most sublime sentiments that Abraham Lincoln ever 
 uttered: 
 
BraHBIiSlaSiB&HHnMMH 
 
 National Shrine at Hodgensville, Housing Lincoln's Birthplace 
 
 The Sinking Spring 
 
 The Cabin 
 
Epilogue 181 
 
 WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE, WITH 
 CHARITY FOR ALL 
 
 And then the visitor enters and sees for the first 
 time- the little cabin where the noble Lincoln was born. 
 How small it is! And how strangely its crude archi- 
 tecture contrasts with the costly and magnificent struc- 
 ture that encloses it. 
 
 As the visitor stands in silent contemplation before 
 these aged, rough-hewn logs, notched and plastered to- 
 gether with clay, the elegantly designed walls and win- 
 dows of the shrine seem to melt away — the little cabin 
 alone remains a reality. In reverie its beholder sees it 
 as it was on that February dawn when the baby, Abra- 
 ham Lincoln, was born. 
 
 Then the mind drifts off to a far-away country, into 
 a long-gone century; and there comes a vague impres- 
 sion of another babe, this one born in a manger — the 
 Christ Child. Was its nativity more humble or more 
 depressing than this? One was the Example, the other 
 the follower; the two, in their different spheres, the 
 most lofty examples that have ever been given to man- 
 kind. 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 It is the rule, rather than the exception, for great 
 undertakings and accomplishments to have small be- 
 
182 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 ginnings. So it was with the creation of a National 
 shrine at the birthplace of Abraham Lincoln, which is 
 a realization of what was, in the beginning, the dream 
 of one man. 
 
 In February, 1904, the Rev. Jenkins Lloyd Jones, 
 Pastor of All Souls Church in Chicago, Editor of Unity, 
 and a veteran of the Civil War, visited the Kentucky 
 farm where Lincoln was born. After a disagreeable 
 journey over slimy clay roads, the clergyman found 
 the place held in no high local regard, and in a sadly 
 neglected condition. Shortly afterward, a fiery article 
 appeared in Unity calling upon Congress to purchase 
 the farm, and asking the people to contribute a suitable 
 memorial building. 
 
 Through the efforts of his son, Richard Lloyd Jones, 
 then managing editor of Collier's, Robert J. Collier, 
 publisher of the weekly, became interested, and the 
 patriotic preacher lived sufficiently long to see his plan 
 carried out, and the farm and the beautiful memorial 
 which was erected to shelter the birthplace cabin, 
 turned over to the United States Government. 
 
 In August, 1906, at the direction of the Common- 
 wealth of Kentucky, this historic little patch of land, 
 comprising a tract of 110>2 acres, was placed on sale 
 at public auction at Hodgensville, for the purpose of 
 
Epilogue 183 
 
 freeing it from the entanglement of a litigation between 
 a private estate and that of a religious society that 
 sought to acquire it. It was then discovered that this 
 "model farm that had raised a Man," as Mark Twain 
 so aptly described it, was coveted by two large corpora- 
 tions, both of which had plans for exploiting it com- 
 mercially. 
 
 Believing that the birthplace of the "First Ameri- 
 can" should forever belong to his fellow citizens, Mr. 
 Collier bought the farm and interested a group of 
 prominent men in the formation of an association for 
 its preservation. This group, acting as a self-appointed 
 board of trustees, organized the Lincoln Farm Asso- 
 ciation, incorporated under the laws of the State of 
 New York. The title of the farm was transferred to 
 the Association, and the program for the enlargement 
 of the membership was begun. 
 
 Rather than restrict the membership to a few men 
 of wealth in exchange for large contributions, it was 
 decided to receive into the society anyone who had 
 contributed any sum above twenty-five cents, and to 
 limit all contributions to twenty-five dollars; this 
 money to be used to build a memorial to Lincoln which 
 would represent the grateful tribute of all the people. 
 
 The purposes of the Lincoln Farm Association were 
 
184 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 laid before President Roosevelt and his Cabinet, one of 
 whom had helped to organize this society. All gave 
 it their enthusiastic and hearty support. The project 
 was then laid before members of the United States 
 Senate and the House of Representatives, governors of 
 States, literary men, and educators. With the unquali- 
 fied endorsement of these, the Lincoln Farm Associ- 
 ation, through the pages of newspapers and magazines 
 throughout the country, appealed to the American pub- 
 lic for members. The response was immediate; sub- 
 scriptions poured in from every State in the Union. 
 
 To each subscriber was issued a certificate of mem- 
 bership bearing a portrait of Lincoln, a picture of the 
 cabin, the White House as it appeared when it was oc- 
 cupied by him, and facsimiles of the autographs of the 
 officers and trustees, affixed with the seal of the Asso- 
 ciation. Although the active part of the Lincoln Farm 
 Association culminated in the centenary of Abraham 
 Lincoln's birth, February 12, 1909, its enrollment has 
 continued, and the membership to-day is around 30,000, 
 with an average subscription of about one dollar and 
 forty cents each. 
 
 During the first year, after placing the farm under 
 the charge of a competent caretaker, the Association 
 sent two of America's foremost landscape architects 
 
Epilogue 185 
 
 to survey the ground and make plans for its develop- 
 ment, at the same time instituting an ultimately suc- 
 cessful search for the little cabin which had been car- 
 ried away by speculators. Plans were drawn for a mag- 
 nificent marble and granite memorial building, whose 
 protecting walls would house the cabin and perpetually 
 protect it from the elements. 
 
 In 1909 President Roosevelt laid the cornerstone of 
 the Memorial Building, and the cabin was placed 
 therein upon its completion. Two years later the 
 shrine was dedicated. On April 12, 1916, Congress 
 accepted a deed of conveyance from the Association 
 to the United States of America of the land, the home- 
 stead, and the Memorial, together with the endow- 
 ment fund of $50,000. The gift was on condition that 
 "the land and buildings thereon shall forever be dedi- 
 cated to the purpose of a national park or reservation, 
 the United States agreeing to protect and preserve it." 
 
 The Lincoln birthplace cabin, like him who was born 
 there, has had a strange and almost sad history. Short- 
 ly after Lincoln's first election as President, it was 
 moved a mile and a half away from its original founda- 
 tion, where it remained until 1894, when it was moved 
 back again to its original site on the Lincoln farm. 
 
186 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 It was taken down and shipped to the Nashville Cen- 
 tennial. Later it was exhibited in Central Park, New 
 York; then at the Buffalo Exposition in 1901. After 
 that it disappeared. In 1906, when the logs were 
 finally found, stored in a cellar at College Point, L. L, 
 they were promptly bought by the Lincoln Farm Asso- 
 ciation, and arrangements were made to restore them 
 to their proper place. 
 
 The Pennsylvania Railroad provided a special car, 
 decorated with American flags and bunting of the na- 
 tional colors, and the Governor of Kentucky sent a 
 squad of State militiamen to New York to escort the 
 old, weatherbeaten logs back to their native soil. The 
 cabin was rebuilt in New York and its journey to 
 Louisville is historic. 
 
 It rested under military guard at Philadelphia, Balti- 
 more, Harrisburg, Altoona, Pittsburgh, Columbus, and 
 Indianapolis. People thronged by the thousands to 
 see it, many begging the privilege of touching the 
 sacred pile. Mayors of cities and Governors of States 
 paid eloquent tributes to the timbers that first shel- 
 tered the Great Emancipator. 
 
 When the special train bearing the drab little cabin 
 with the gaudy decorations, crossed the Ohio River 
 into its native State, it was met at the Louisville depot 
 
Epilogue 187 
 
 with martial music and military honors. From there 
 it was taken to a beautiful park, where Colonel Henry 
 Waterson, one of the trustees of the Lincoln Farm 
 Association, and Adlai E. Stevenson, former Vice- 
 President of the United States, himself a Kentuckian, 
 made the formal orations, welcoming back to its native 
 soil the cabin in which Abraham Lincoln came into 
 being. 
 
 On the morning of September 4th, 1916, the sun was 
 shining brightly on Abraham Lincoln's old Kentucky 
 home. It had good reason for shining there on this 
 particular morning, for that day was to be marked by 
 the greatest celebration that the little town of 
 Hodgensville and its environs had ever seen. This 
 celebration was to represent the culmination of a 
 splendid patriotic enterprise; the little farm where 
 Abraham Lincoln was born, and the cabin, sheltered 
 and protected in a magnificent shrine, was to be given 
 to the United States Government to be used as a Na- 
 tional Park. 
 
 Henceforth this farm would belong to all the people 
 — to the common people — whom Lincoln had loved 
 and served so well; henceforth it would be theirs to 
 enjoy and gain inspiration from; henceforth children 
 
188 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 could visit this spot, where, more than a century be- 
 fore, one of the poorest of little American children 
 had been born, that they might acquire a better appre- 
 ciation of the Great Emancipator. 
 
 On this day another President of the United States 
 was coming to Hodgensville to eulogize Abraham Lin- 
 coln at his humble birthplace. At eleven o'clock on 
 that morning a special train drew into the little rail- 
 way station bearing Woodrow Wilson, his wife, and 
 a party of distinguished citizens. There the Presi- 
 dential party was met by a fleet of automobiles, the car 
 of General William B. Haldeman being reserved for 
 President and Mrs. Wilson. 
 
 The procession proceeded to the town square where 
 the President stopped long enough to place a wreath 
 of magnolia leaves at the foot of the statue of Lincoln 
 by Adolph Weinman, which, in sitting position, rests 
 there upon a granite base. Beneath this statue, amid 
 the click of cameras, a little girl presented a bouquet 
 of flowers to Mrs. Wilson in the name of the Ladies' 
 Lincoln League. 
 
 • Yes, it was a gala day for Hodgensville. It was 
 estimated that there were 20,000 visitors in the town. 
 Mingling with the natives of LaRue and surrounding 
 counties — farmers and mountaineers — were the better 
 
Epilogue 189 
 
 dressed visitors from the northern and eastern cities. 
 Scattered through the vast throng shone black faces of 
 visitors who represented that race, which he, who on 
 that day was being honored, had lifted up out of bond- 
 age. 
 
 In the jostling crowd were babies in their mothers' 
 arms; there were patriarchs who claimed that they had 
 "knowed Mr. Lincoln personally well"; there were 
 aged veterans of the Civil War, some wearing the blue 
 of the Union, and others the gray of the Lost Cause. 
 Here Kentucky hospitality was at its best. It was 
 even reflected in the generous slices of country ham 
 in large sandwiches which were sold for only "tin 
 cints." 
 
 Never had Kentucky seen such an assemblage as 
 was gathered at the Lincoln farm by noon. License 
 tags showed that many were from distant States. When 
 the Presidential party started on its motor trip from 
 Hodgensville to the farm, the three miles of highway 
 immediately became a snake-like procession that cov- 
 ered the entire distance. One seventy-acre farm dis- 
 appeared entirely beneath a covering of automobile 
 tops. An official of the Louisville Automobile Club es- 
 timated the number of cars at four thousand. 
 
 The ceremonies began as soon as the President and 
 
190 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 his party had inspected the Memorial Hall and the little 
 log cabin within it. President Wilson was the first 
 visitor to sign his name on the new register within the 
 shrine. Wild cheering from the assembled thousands 
 greeted the notables as they made their way up the 
 granite steps that led to the cabin. 
 
 While gazing at the cabin, the President exclaimed : 
 "How it would have astounded poor Nancy Lincoln 
 had she been able to know that the rough logs of the 
 cabin in which she lay with her babe would one day be 
 enshrined in an imposing granite memorial. She never 
 dreamt that she dwelt in marble halls." 
 
 No expert stage director could have provided a set- 
 ting more imposing than that which prevailed during 
 the closing scene in the establishment of this new Na- 
 tional Park. The exercises were held on a special plat- 
 form that had been buried beneath the red, white, and 
 blue flags and bunting. The platform stood at the foot 
 of the broad flight of steps leading upward to the 
 memorial hall. 
 
 As a battery of motion picture operators took their 
 positions immediately in front of the platform, the 
 speakers, looking outward into the upturned faces of 
 countless thousands, seemed to catch inspiration from 
 the surroundings of this spot so sacred in American 
 
Epilogue 191 
 
 history. The memorial hall directly in front of them 
 seemed to reflect at the same time the beauty and 
 strength of the immortal Lincoln. 
 
 A hush fell upon the throng as Dr. William A. Gan- 
 field, president of Centre College, Danville, Ky., arose, 
 raised his hand, and pronounced an invocation which 
 inaugurated the ceremonies. 
 
 General John B. Castleman, who had welcomed the 
 Lincoln pilgrims to Kentucky, and whom, during the 
 Civil War, President Lincoln had stood ready to save 
 when he was in danger of execution by the order of a 
 Federal court martial, was the first speaker. 
 
 "It is significant," the aged Confederate veteran said, 
 "that the distinguished citizen who is chairman of our 
 reception committee is the son of a Confederate soldier; 
 that at Hodgensville the statue erected there to the 
 memory of the immortal President was dedicated by a 
 Confederate soldier; that at the capital of his native 
 State, the statue of Abraham Lincoln was presented in 
 behalf of a United States war veteran." 
 
 Former Governor Joseph W. Folk of Missouri, Presi- 
 dent of the Lincoln Farm Association, then took charge 
 of the ceremonies. After calling Lincoln the "mightiest 
 of the mighty," the speaker told briefly the history of 
 the Association, saying in conclusion: 
 
192 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 "This majestic memorial that we to-day formally 
 turn over to the United States Government is, there- 
 fore, not only in memory of Lincoln, but it is the testi- 
 mony given in blocks of marble that the fires of 
 fraternal hatred kindled by the fierce conflict of half 
 a century ago, are dead, and from the ashes have arisen 
 a pure patriotism for a common country and a sincere 
 devotion to a common flag. 
 
 "In dedicating this memorial as the property of the 
 American people, let us likewise consecrate ourselves 
 in our day and generation to maintain the Americanism 
 of Lincoln inviolate, and from this occasion and these 
 surroundings take increased devotion for all that Amer- 
 icanism means. 
 
 "So we give to the American people, those living 
 to-day and the Americans who are yet to be, this hal- 
 lowed ground where Lincoln was born and this 
 mausoleum which enshrines as a priceless heritage, the 
 cabin in which Lincoln first saw the light. With these 
 gifts may there also go to Americans throughout the 
 flight of time down the centuries the lessons of Lin- 
 coln's life and the ideals which he taught to make men 
 happy, to make men free, and to ennoble all mankind. " 
 
 While introducing the next speaker, Gov. Folk called 
 the attention of the crowd to an editorial of Colonel 
 
Epilogue 193 
 
 Henry Waterson that had appeared in his Courier- 
 Journal on the previous morning. He said that the 
 Colonel was correct in his contention that the South 
 would have been spared the days of reconstruction had 
 Lincoln lived. 
 
 The chairman then introduced Senator John Sharp 
 Williams, of Mississippi, who spoke on "Abraham Lin- 
 coln and the South. " The famous Southern Senator's 
 picturesque appearance attracted close attention from 
 the start. 
 
 In introducing Robert J. Collier, Governor Folk re- 
 ferred to him as "the man whose ability and energy 
 had brought about this happy consummation. " 
 
 Mr. Collier, as chairman of the Executive Committee 
 of the Lincoln Farm Association, presented to the Sec- 
 retary of War the deed of gift and a box containing 
 $50,000, receiving in return documents of acceptance 
 on the part of the Federal Government. No one in the 
 cheering throng knew that the little box contained 
 United States currency representing the whole endow- 
 ment fund. The documents of acceptance were author- 
 ized by a special act of Congress, and bore the signa- 
 ture of President Wilson and Secretary Baker. 
 
 The speaker explained that twelve years of labor had 
 been necessary to prepare the way for the ceremonies 
 
194 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 which were being held, and that men in all walks of 
 life had contributed to the transfer of the farm to the 
 Nation. Mr. Collier said that he considered it a great 
 privilege to turn over to the Secretary of War the farm, 
 the Lincoln cabin, the memorial hall and the endow- 
 ment fund that had been raised by the Association. 
 
 He thanked the President for the inspiration grow- 
 ing out of his presence at the ceremonies, and thanked 
 Governor Folk for his untiring efforts in behalf of the 
 Lincoln memorial farm during the years gone by. The 
 speaker in turn thanked the various officers and di- 
 rectors of the Association before he turned his atten- 
 tion to the praise of the martyred President. 
 
 Mr. Collier described Lincoln as a man "born to 
 affect the destiny of a nation and awaken the imagina- 
 tions of a people." He declared that God had ordained 
 the spot in what is now LaRue County as the birth- 
 place of the "tragic, shambling figure that was to guide 
 this Nation through its darkest hours," and that the 
 Lincoln memorial should stand as mute evidence of 
 the fact that no race nor creed shall ever divide this 
 Nation. "May memory preserve, and not in marble 
 only," he continued, "Lincoln's document of 'malice 
 toward no one and charity for all/ " 
 
 Secretary of War, Newton D. Baker, opened his ad- 
 
Epilogue 195 
 
 dress by saying that he felt there was a certain pro- 
 priety in having the birthplace of Abraham Lincoln 
 come into the care of the War Department. He avowed 
 that he had gained inspiration from the study of Lin- 
 coln's life and especially the latter's dealings with the 
 Civil War Secretary of War, Edwin M. Stanton. 
 
 "I have learned one great lesson from the study of 
 Lincoln's life — the value of patience in all things," he 
 said, in paying tribute to Lincoln's patience in dealing 
 with the problems presented during the troublesome 
 times of his administration. 
 
 Declaring that future generations will make their 
 way to the Lincoln Farm even as visitors go to Athens 
 to catch inspiration of Pericles and others to Stratford- 
 on-Avon to be more intimately connected with Shake- 
 speare, Secretary Baker said that he considered it a 
 great honor to accept the deed of gift to the farm, by 
 authority vested in him by Congress. 
 
 Cheers that swept upward from thousands of throats 
 doubled in intensity when, as the transfer of docu- 
 ments was made, and bands struck up "The Star 
 Spangled Banner," a forty-foot American flag was 
 slowly drawn up and unfurled at the top of the flagstaff 
 in front of the speakers' stand. All present arose, lifted 
 their hats, and cheered lustily. 
 
196 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 The din subsided when Governor Folk arose to intro- 
 duce the President of the United States. The leader of 
 the American people was about to speak! 
 
 Governor Folk began by saying: "When historians 
 in coming years review American history, they will 
 write the names of five Presidents above all others. 
 The names will be those of Washington, Jefferson, 
 Jackson, Lincoln, and Wilson." 
 
 Standing before the cheering multitude with head 
 bare beneath the great American flag which was now 
 waving proudly in the Kentucky breeze, Woodrow 
 Wilson, garbed in a dark blue coat and white flannel 
 trousers, was a strikingly handsome figure on that day. 
 He was apparently at the height of his physical vigor 
 and, from the scholarly address which was soon to be 
 uttered from his lips, we know that he had reached 
 the zenith of his powers; for this eulogy of Abraham 
 Lincoln is a literary masterpiece. 
 
 A year was yet to pass before it would be President 
 Wilson's painful duty to declare that "a state of war 
 existed between the Government of the United States 
 and the German Empire." One might wonder if, on 
 this glorious day, amid these peaceful pastoral sur- 
 roundings, this man had any realization of the fact that 
 he, like Lincoln, would soon be directing the nation 
 
Epilogue 197 
 
 through a terrible war, that through that war his name, 
 like that of Lincoln, would be added to those of its 
 illustrious martyrs. 
 
 The President's address, in full, was as follows: 
 
 "No more significant memorial could have been pre- 
 sented to the Nation than this. It expresses so much 
 of what is singular and noteworthy in the history of 
 the country; it suggests so many of the things that we 
 prize most highly in our life and in our system of gov- 
 ernment. 
 
 "How eloquent this little house within the shrine of 
 democracy! There is nowhere in the land any home so 
 remote, so humble, that it may not contain the power 
 of mind and heart and conscience to which nations 
 yield and history submits its processes. 
 
 "Nature pays no tribute to aristocracy, subscribes to 
 no caste, renders fealty to no monarch or master of any 
 name or kind. 
 
 "Genius is no snob. It does not run after titles or 
 seek for preference the high circles of society. It af- 
 fects humble company as well as great. It pays no spe- 
 cial tribute to universities or learned societies or con- 
 ventional standards of greatness, but serenely chooses 
 its own comrades, its own haunts, its own cradle even, 
 and its own life of adventure and of training. 
 
198 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 "Here is proof of it. This little hut was the cradle 
 of one of the great men, a singular man, delightful, 
 vital genius who presently emerged upon the stage of 
 the Nation's history, gaunt, shy, ungainly, but domi- 
 nant and majestic, a natural ruler of men, himself in- 
 evitably the central figure of the plot. 
 
 "No man can explain this, but every man can see how 
 it demonstrates the vigor of the democracy, where ev- 
 ery door is open in every hamlet and countryside, in 
 city and wilderness alike, for the ruler to emerge when 
 he will and claim his leadership in the free life. Such 
 are the authentic proofs of the validity and the vitality 
 of democracy. 
 
 "Here, no less, hides the mystery of the democracy. 
 Who shall guess the secret of nature and Providence 
 and a free polity? 
 
 "Whatever the vigor and vitality of the stock from 
 which he sprang, its mere vigor and soundness do not 
 explain where this man got his great heart that seemed 
 to comprehend all mankind in its catholic and benig- 
 nant sympathy, the mind that sat enthroned behind 
 those brooding, melancholy eyes, whose vision swept 
 many a horizon which those about him dreamed not 
 of — that mind that comprehended what it had never 
 seen, and understood the language of affairs with the 
 
Epilogue 199 
 
 ready ease of one to the manner born — or that nature 
 which seemed in its varied richness to be the familiar 
 of men of every way of life. 
 
 "This is the sacred mystery of democracy, that its 
 richest fruits spring up out of soils which no man has 
 prepared, and in circumstances amid which they are 
 the least expected. This is a place alike of mystery and 
 reassurance. 
 
 "It is likely that in society ordered otherwise that 
 our own Lincoln could not have found himself or the 
 path of fame and power upon which he walked serenely 
 to his death. In this place it is right that we should 
 remind ourselves of the solid and striking facts upon 
 which our faith in democracy is founded. 
 
 "Many another man besides Lincoln has served the 
 nation in its highest places of council and of action 
 whose origins were as humble as his. Though the 
 greatest example of universal energy, richness, stimu- 
 lation, and force of democracy, he is only one example 
 among many. The permeating and all-pervasive virtue 
 of the freedom which challenges us in America to make 
 the most of every gift and power we possess, every page 
 of our history serves to illustrate and emphasize. 
 Standing here in this place, it seems almost the whole 
 of the stirring story. 
 
200 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 "Here Lincoln had his beginnings. Here the end 
 and consummation of that great life seems remote and 
 a bit incredible. And yet there was no break anywhere 
 between the beginning and the end, no lack of natural 
 sequence anywhere. Nothing incredible really hap- 
 pened. Lincoln was unaffectedly as much at home in 
 the White House as he was here. Do you share with 
 me the feeling, I wonder, that he was permanently at 
 home nowhere? It seems to me that in the case of the 
 man — I would rather say of a spirit — like Lincoln the 
 question where he was is of little significance; that it is 
 always what he was that really arrests our thought 
 and takes hold of our imagination. 
 
 "It is the spirit always that is sovereign. Lincoln, 
 like the rest of us, was put through the discipline of 
 the world — a very rough and exacting discipline for 
 him, an indispensable discipline for every man who 
 would know what he is about in the midst of the world's 
 affairs; but his spirit got only its schooling there. It 
 did not derive its character or its vision from the ex- 
 periences which brought it to its full revelation. 
 
 "The test of every American must always be, not 
 where he is, but what he is. That also is of the essence 
 of democracy, and is the moral of which this place is 
 most gravely expressive. 
 
Epilogue 201 
 
 "We would like to think of men like Lincoln and 
 Washington as typical Americans, but no man can be 
 typical who is so unusual as these great men were. It 
 was typical of American life that it should produce 
 such men with supreme indifference as to the manner 
 in which it produced them, and as readily here in this 
 hut as amid the little circle of cultivated gentlemen to 
 whom Virginia owed so much. 
 
 "And Lincoln and Washington were typical Amer- 
 icans in the use they made of their genius. But there 
 will be few such men at best, and we will not look into 
 the mystery of how and why they come. We will only 
 keep the door open for them always, and a hearty wel- 
 come— -after we have recognized them. 
 
 "I have read many biographies of Lincoln. I have 
 sought out with the greatest interest the many intimate 
 stories that are told of him, the narratives of near-by 
 friends, the sketches at close quarters, in which those 
 who had the privilege of associating with him have 
 tried to depict for us the very man himself, "in his 
 habit as he lived, " but I have found nowhere a real 
 intimate of Lincoln's. I nowhere get the impression in 
 any narrative that the writer had in fact penetrated 
 to the heart of his mystery, or that any man could 
 penetrate to the heart of it. 
 
202 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 "That brooding spirit had no familiars. I get the 
 impression that it never spoke out in complete self- 
 revelation, and that it could not reveal itself to anyone 
 completely. It was a very lonely spirit that looked out 
 from underneath those shaggy brows and compre- 
 hended men without fully communing with them, as if, 
 in spite of all its genial efforts at comradeship, it dwelt 
 apart, saw its visions of duty elsewhere, where no man 
 looked on. 
 
 "There is a very holy and very terrible isolation for 
 the conscience of every man who seeks to read the 
 destiny of others' affairs as well as for himself, for a 
 nation as well as individuals. That privacy no man can 
 intrude upon. That lonely search of the spirit for the 
 right perhaps no man can assist. This strange child of 
 the cabin kept company with strange things, was born 
 into no intimacy but that of its own silently assembling 
 and deploying thoughts. 
 
 "I have come here to-day not to utter a eulogy on 
 Lincoln; he stands in need of none, but to endeavor to 
 interpret the meaning of this gift to the Nation of the 
 place of his birth and origin. 
 
 "Is not this an altar upon which we may forever keep 
 alive the vestal fire of democracy as upon a shrine at 
 which some of the deepest and most sacred hopes of 
 
Epilogue 
 
 203 
 
 mankind may from age to age be kindled? For these 
 hopes must certainly be kindled, and only those who 
 live can rekindle them. 
 
 "The only stuff that can retain the life-giving heat 
 is the stuff of living hearts. And the hopes of man- 
 kind cannot be kept alive by words merely, constitu- 
 tions and doctrines of right and odes of liberty. The 
 object of democracy is to transmute those into the life 
 and action of so- 
 ciety, and self-deni- 
 al and self-sacrifice 
 of heroic men and 
 women willing to 
 make their lives an 
 embodiment of 
 right and service 
 and enlightened 
 purpose. 
 
 "The commands 
 of democracy are as 
 imperative as its 
 privileges and op- 
 portunities are wide and generous. Its compulsion is 
 upon us. It will be great and lift a great light high for 
 the guidance of our own feet. 
 
204 Abe Lincoln, Kentucky Boy 
 
 "We are not worthy to stand here unless we our- 
 selves be in deed and in truth real democrats and serv- 
 ants of mankind, ready to give our very lives for the 
 freedom and justice and spiritual exaltation of the 
 great Nation which shelters and nurtures us." 
 ***** 
 
 President Wilson had begun speaking at exactly one 
 o'clock, and his address, which occupied twelve min- 
 utes in the delivery, made a profound impression upon 
 the vast audience; evidenced by the fact that he was 
 interrupted repeatedly by applause. Cheer after cheer 
 went up as he finished. 
 
 The ceremonies were concluded with a benediction 
 by the Rt. Rev. Father Thomas J. Shahan, of Wash- 
 ington, D. C, and at one-twenty o'clock the return trip 
 to Hodgensville was begun. Twenty minutes later the 
 President's special train, which was to speed him back 
 to the National Capital, was whistling on its way. It 
 was nearly six o'clock before the last of the five special 
 trains that had brought the visitors had departed, and 
 until late at night pilgrims were still leaving the little 
 town. 
 
 Of all the shrines erected to the memory of the im- 
 mortal Lincoln, the one at his birthplace is the most 
 important, for it marks the greatest miracle of the Re- 
 
Epilogue 
 
 205 
 
 public. It is a symbol of the hopes of every American 
 boy struggling to attain an honorable career. It is a 
 Mecca where the youth of this great Nation may gather 
 and take courage from the story of a man who, reading 
 from a few books before the light from a rude fire 
 place, became the leading actor in the greatest drama 
 of American history, if not of all history. 
 
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 The Prairie President 
 
 Living Through the Years With 
 Lincoln 
 
 By Raymond Warren 
 
 A new and strikingly original bio- 
 graphical narrative of Abraham Lin- 
 coln, carrying him through boyhood, 
 his law career and his early political 
 activities up to the time he assumed 
 the Presidency. The story, which ad- 
 heres carefully to the known facts of 
 his life, is presented in the form of 
 closely knit episodes, the unique fea- 
 ture of which is a series of remarkable 
 scenes in dialogue. 
 
 Raymond Warren has been a Lin- 
 coln student and collector since early 
 youth and is the author of the current 
 highly popular historical radio series 
 based on the life of Lincoln which is 
 being broadcast throughout the 
 country. Much of the dialogue in his 
 present work has been adapted from 
 this series. 
 
 By adopting, thus, a new method 
 of approach which embodies the fig- 
 ure of Lincoln faithfully and with 
 remarkable creative insight in a re- 
 construction of the speech and man- 
 ners characteristic of his day, the 
 author has achieved a warm, ani- 
 mated portrait which enlivens with- 
 out distorting and brings a little 
 closer to reality the image of the 
 greatest American. 
 
 Besides being a writer, Mr. Warren 
 has won recognition as one of the 
 small group of artists who have ade- 
 quately reproduced the character of 
 Lincoln pictorially. The twenty 
 
 drawings with which he has illustrated 
 The Prairie President constitute his 
 latest and most distinguished work. 
 
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