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LINCOLN ROOM 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 
 LIBRARY 
 
 MEMORIAL 
 
 the Class of 1901 
 
 founded by 
 
 HARLAN HOYT HORNER 
 
 and 
 
 HENRIETTA CALHOUN HORNER 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2012 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://archive.org/details/lincolnOOmadi 
 
Lincoln Established Himself in Their Good Graces hi His 
 Drollery \m> Ability to Discuss Affairs of State 
 
LINCOLN 
 
 Lucy Foster Madison 
 
 -Author of 
 
 "JoanofJIrc'' Zafaycue" "Washington" 
 
 Illustrated and 
 Decorated £y 
 
 Frank E Schoonover 
 
 The Yervn Rxblishing 
 Company CsS> Philadelphia, 
 
COPYRIGHT 
 1928 % BY 
 THE PENN 
 PUBLISHING 
 COMPANY 
 
 Lincoln 
 
 Made in the U. S. A. 
 

 To 
 
 The Memory 
 of 
 
 My Father, 
 JUDGE GEORGE W. FOSTER 
 
 A KENTUCKIAN AND A DEMOCRAT, 
 WHO KNEW AND LOVED 
 
 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
Contents 
 
 IFUPTEB PAGE 
 
 I A Narrow Escape 11 
 
 II Life in the Cabin 25 
 
 III The Move 36 
 
 IV The New Home 43 
 
 V A New Order of Things 53 
 
 VI Abraham's World Expands 64 
 
 VII The End of School Days 79 
 
 VIII A Glimpse of the Great World 92 
 
 IX The Land of the Illini — "The Land of Grown-Up 
 
 Men" Ill 
 
 X "Honest Abe" 123 
 
 XI An Unexpected Honor 140 
 
 XII Postmaster and Surveyor 152 
 
 XIII A Plunge into Politics 166 
 
 XIV In the Valley of the Shadow 177 
 
 XV "The Long Nine" 190 
 
 XVI "The Sangamon Chief" 199 
 
 XVII A Tempestuous Courtship 211 
 
 XVIII The Rising Politician 226 
 
 XIX The Honorable Abraham Lincoln 236 
 
 XX In Private Life 248 
 
 XXI The Fallow Years 260 
 
 XXII The Statesman 271 
 
 XXIII The Gathering Storm 283 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGH 
 
 X XIV A Battle of Giants 292 
 
 XXV The Man prom Illinois 309 
 
 XXVI "Old Abram Is the Man" 321 
 
 XXVII The Breaking of the Storm . 337 
 
 XXVIII "Father Abraham" 348 
 
 XXIX The Martyr 359 
 
Illustrations 
 
 PAQH 
 
 Lincoln Established Himself in Their Good Graces by His 
 Drollery and Ability to Discuss Affairs of State, Frontispiece 
 
 Often Travellers Stopped for the Night and There Fol- 
 lowed an Evening of Talk 32 
 
 One of Lincoln's Favorite Perches Was on Top of an Old- 
 fashioned Rail Fence 68 
 
 Abe and His Crew Made a Quick Voyage Down the Broad 
 Mississippi 120 
 
 Lincoln Told Them His Ideas on the Leading Questions of 
 the Day 168 
 
 He Found Himself More and More Attracted by Mary Todd 
 and She Encouraged His Visits 220 
 
 The Debate Between Lincoln and Douglas 302 
 
 Lincoln and Grant in Front of the White House .... 362 
 
"His life was gentle, and the elements 
 So mixed in him, that Nature might stand up, 
 And say to all the world, 'This was a man.' " 
 
 Julius Caesar. Act Vth, Scene, 5th. 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
LINCOLN 
 
 CHAPTER ONE 
 
 A NARROW ESCAPE 
 
 "Tom!" 
 
 "Yes, Nancy." Thomas Lincoln took his pipe out of his 
 mouth, and straightening up from the big persimmon tree 
 against which he had been lounging, turned toward the woman 
 who stood in the cabin door. "Was you a-wantin' anything?" 
 
 "I'm oneasy about them boys, Tom," replied Nancy Hanks 
 Lincoln, shading her eyes with her hands and gazing across 
 the valley to the forest beyond, anxiety plainly stamped upon 
 her dark, sad features. 
 
 She was a sweet-faced, brown-haired woman, a little above 
 middle height. There were shadows around her hazel eyes, and 
 though she was but thirty-three years of age veins of silver 
 were already shining in her brown hair. Her appearance was 
 that of a woman who had known tragedy, but whom tragedy 
 had only made sweeter. Her voice had the soft burr of her 
 native Virginia, and there was a natural grace about her move- 
 ments. 
 
 "They have been gone since dinner," she went on, "and it's 
 
 nigh five o'clock now. Both Mrs. Gollaher and me air that 
 
 oneasy we don't know what to do. Besides, Mrs. Gollaher says 
 
 it's high time she and Austin was starting for home." 
 
 n 
 
12 LINCOLN 
 
 "Shucks! the sun's high yit. There's plenty of time for her to 
 git home, and she'd better make up her mind to stay for supper. 
 Them boys air all right." 
 
 And Thomas settled back lazily against the tree. He was a 
 tall man, broad-shouldered, powerfully built, and somewhat 
 rough looking; but he was good, honest, true, and kind; full 
 of the love of fields and woods. A man of peaceable and inof- 
 fensive temper, but who, when roused, would turn on the 
 offender with dire consequences. Now, as Nancy continued to 
 voice her uneasiness, he rose, and grumbling at the fancies of 
 women, strolled off into the forest in search of the belated boys. 
 
 The cabin stood under some spreading trees on a knoll, in 
 a beautiful green valley which ran back between high lime- 
 stone bluffs, heavily wooded. It was a wide valley, in the mid- 
 dle of which was a stream of clear water running over stones 
 to the Salt River, and thence on to the great river beyond — 
 the Ohio. 
 
 The house was built of logs, cut from the timbers near by, 
 and chinked with mud. A rough chimney was reared outside, 
 and the fireplace was as long as Thomas Lincoln was tall. The 
 farm was situated in the forks at Knob Creek, as the stream 
 was called, and only three fields were cultivated. Thomas Lin- 
 coln made no attempt to till the hillslopes, the three fields afford- 
 ing him sufficient labor. But when the woods abound in game, 
 and a man can largely support himself and family by his gun 
 he is not apt to be much of a husbandman. He and his kind are 
 the advance guard of civilization, not tillers of the soil nor 
 lovers of close communities. 
 
 The highway from Louisville to Nashville ran in front of 
 the door — the "most important turnpike in that part of the 
 world, and one freely travelled." In spite of this fact, the cabin 
 
A NARROW ESCAPE 13 
 
 and its surroundings were primitive and in the backwoods ; but 
 then the whole State of Kentucky, in this June of 1815, was 
 primitive and in the backwoods. It was just beginning to work 
 into the long toilsome path towards civilization. 
 
 Meantime, there had been good cause for the uneasiness of 
 the women concerning their sons. It was a pioneer custom 
 among the settlers on Knob Creek to visit each other on Sun- 
 day when there was no church. So, in neighborly fashion, Mrs. 
 Gollaher and her son had come over to spend the day at the 
 Lincoln cabin. The two lads — Austin Gollaher and Abraham 
 Lincoln, Thomas and Nancy Lincoln's son — were close friends, 
 and had gone off by themselves directly after the midday meal ; 
 the dinner of fried wild turkey poults, poke greens, and corn 
 pone putting them in condition for any boyish prank. 
 
 "Where'll we go, Abe?" asked Austin who was the older, 
 when they had scampered out of sight of the house. 
 
 "Up the crick, Austin," replied Abraham Lincoln. "There's 
 more fun up there; and we haven't been near it today." 
 
 At once they struck off up the valley by the side of the 
 stream, and into the forest. There was a great contrast in the 
 appearance of the two boys. They were respectively eight and 
 six years of age; but Austin, the older one, was smaller and 
 more compactly built than Abraham who, though two years his 
 junior, might easily have been taken for three years older. He 
 was shy, overgrown, consciously awkward, homely and ill-clad. 
 He grew so rapidly that his mother complained that it was 
 impossible to make his clothes lit. The growth that had come 
 to him so fast was indicated not only by his size, but by the 
 queer thoughtful expression of his strongly marked features. 
 His sunburned face was full of good humor and fun, yet it 
 was tinged with melancholy strange in one so young. An odd- 
 
14 LINCOLN 
 
 looking lad, he would have been called, but there was some- 
 thing about him that caught and held the attention. 
 
 The boys ran on for a time without stopping, rolled over 
 and over in the grass, and shouted their joy as loudly as they 
 Avished, for there was none to forbid. They dug out wood- 
 chucks, explored the deep cane brakes and chased muskrats. 
 It was June, and it was glorious to have the afternoon to them- 
 selves. The birds sang in every tree, and bush, and field. 
 There sounded the song of the cheery blackbird, the whistle of 
 the thrush, and the passionate notes of the wood doves. There 
 were neither sights nor sounds save Nature's own. Suddenly 
 the whir of a partridge as she left her brood brought the ur- 
 chins to an abrupt standstill. Abraham turned to his compan- 
 ion, and pointing to the east side of the creek, said : 
 
 "Right up there we saw a covey of partridges yesterday. 
 Let's cross over, and see if they are there still." 
 
 "All right," assented the other. "But how'll we git across? 
 The crick's too high to jump over it." 
 
 There had been a heavy rain the night before, and the waters 
 of Knob Creek were swollen and turbulent. There was no 
 place to cross in that vicinity so the boys followed the eddying 
 current for a time until at length they came to a spot where 
 the stream narrowed and a footlog stretched from bank to 
 bank. Abraham eyed it critically. 
 
 "We can coon over that," he announced. "I'll go first, Aus- 
 tin." 
 
 "No, let me," protested Austin. "I'm older, you know." 
 
 There was some parleying about who should cross first, 
 but eventually Abraham yielded to the claims of his guest, 
 and without more ado Austin grasped hold of the log, and 
 "cooned" over. It was slippery and narrow, and there was 
 
A NARROW ESCAPE 15 
 
 grave danger of falling, if one lost one's head. But when did 
 such facts ever deter a lad from following his natural bent for 
 daring? Austin having reached the other side in safety, Abra- 
 ham, as a matter of course, straddled the pole, and essayed to 
 follow him. But he had not reckoned on his weight and length. 
 Half way across the log began to wobble. He was heavier than 
 Austin, and his long legs could not grasp the sides of the log 
 easily. In fact, he could not manage them at all. He knew that 
 he was on the point of falling, and began to tremble. Austin 
 saw him pause, realized that he was scared, and shouted : 
 
 "Don't look up, nor down, nor sideways, Abe. Look right at 
 me, and hold on tight." 
 
 Abe tried to obey but his head was dizzy from the turmoil 
 of the stream beneath him; so, despite the fact that he did his 
 best, his glance wandered to the banks overhung with syca- 
 mores and elms, and along the slopes where heavy fringes of 
 willow dipped into the current. Suddenly he lost his balance, 
 and toppled head first into the water. It was about seven or 
 eight feet deep at this place, but it seemed to the frightened 
 boy that he was sinking into a bottomless abyss. 
 
 As is the case with all tyros an unreasoning panic seized him 
 as he sank. He gasped for breath, and his lungs filled with wa- 
 ter. Terror-stricken he struggled, striking out desperately with 
 his long arms and legs. Grabbing wildly with both hands as he 
 rose, he touched something; something firm, solid, reassuring. 
 He clutched it; clung to it with convulsive strength, and felt 
 himself being pulled through the water. 
 
 The next he knew Austin was rolling him on the ground, 
 shaking and pummeling him vigorously. Abe endured it until 
 he could stand no more of it. By a mighty effort he flung him 
 off, and demanded: 
 
16 LINCOLN 
 
 "Say, what air ye trying to do to me?" 
 
 "I'm a tryin' to git the water outen ye," Austin explained 
 with a last emphatic punch. "Air ye all right, Abe? You'd bet- 
 ter lay still fer a spell." 
 
 "Did I drown, Austin?" asked Abe sinking back weakly on 
 the ground. 
 
 "Well, I reckon not. You don't look it," his friend reassured 
 him. "Though you did come mighty nigh to it. I thought you 
 was a goner sure though when I stuck the pole out to you. 
 Golly! but you did cling to it. Air ye sure you air all right. 
 Abe?" 
 
 "Yes; I'm all right." Abe demonstrated his Tightness by sit- 
 ting up. "But I'm wondering what my mother'll say. You 
 know she told me to be keerful about the crick." He gazed at 
 the stream with a troubled look. 
 
 "I know she did," answered Austin dolefully. "I reckon, 
 Abe, we'd best not say anything about this here. Mothers air 
 funny. They both of 'em, yourn and mine, will love us to death 
 'cause we air all right and didn't git drownded; then they'll 
 give us a whale of a lickin' for lettin' you fall in." 
 
 "Do you reckon?" queried young Lincoln fearfully. 
 
 "I know it," replied Austin with the conviction born of ex- 
 perience. 
 
 "Then what '11 we do? Our clothes air all wet." 
 
 "Pooh! that's easy," answered the older lad. "We'll strip 
 and hang our clothes up to dry. Air you sure you air all right?" 
 
 "Fit as a fiddle, Austin." 
 
 So promising each other never to tell anybody anything 
 about the matter the two youngsters rapidly undressed, and 
 spread their wet clothes about on the grass in the June sun- 
 
A NARROW ESCAPE 17 
 
 shine. After they had played about a little Austin turned to 
 Abraham. 
 
 "Say, Abe, I've hearn tell that 'twus an easy death to drown. 
 How did it feel when you was goin' down?" 
 
 "I reckon it'd be all right oncet a feller was full of water," 
 answered Abraham reflectively. "It didn't seem easy to me 
 though. I never was so scared in my life. Cricky! I'm glad that 
 I wasn't drowned right here where I was born!" 
 
 "You wasn't born here," contradicted Austin hastily. "I 
 don't know where you was born, but it wasn't here. Why, I 
 remember when you folks moved here and it wasn't more'n 
 two or three years ago. Don't you remember ever livin' at any 
 other place than this?" 
 
 "No; I don't remember ever having lived anywhere but on 
 this farm. But I'll ask my mother about it." 
 
 "Oh, well, you're only six," said Austin with the superiority 
 that his eight years gave him. " 'Course you couldn't know 
 as much about it as I do. It couldn't be expected." 
 
 The sun was purpling towards the west when at length the 
 boys dressed, and started for the cabin. They had passed the 
 fields where over against the dark green of the forest the 
 bright green of the Indian corn rippled in the wind when they 
 met Nancy Lincoln coming to look for them. 
 
 "Where have you been all this time?" she cried. "I have 
 been oneasy for fear something had happened. You should not 
 have stayed so long, Abe. Your pa is hunting for you now." 
 
 Her tones were chiding, but there was a smile in her eyes 
 as they rested on her son. He had always been closer to her 
 than the little daughter who was his elder. Without waiting for 
 an answer she added: "Austin's mother is 'most ready to go." 
 
18 LINCOLN 
 
 "Oh, Mis. Lincoln, she ain't a goin' before supper, is she?" 
 exclaimed Austin in such lugubrious tones that Nancy laughed. 
 
 "No, Austin; And there's a big Indian pudding with maple 
 sugar for supper too. It's just waiting to be eaten. There comes 
 Tom now. They're here, Tom," she called as Thomas Lincoln 
 came from the woods towards them. 
 
 ''It's high time you was a showin' up, you young scalawags," 
 exclaimed Thomas in mock anger pointing an imaginary gun 
 at them. "What do you mean by makin' a man chase all over 
 the woods fer ye on his day of rest? I told you they'd turn up 
 all right, Nancy," he added turning towards his wife. "They 
 air used to the woods, and ain't apt to come to harm. But come 
 in, and let's have supper. Get in, you rascals!" And squealing 
 with delight the lads scampered into the cabin. 
 
 It consisted of but one room, the floor of which was not laid, 
 but was of dirt, pounded down. There was no glass in the win- 
 dow, the opening was covered with greased paper instead ; and 
 there was but one door. The furniture was home-made, save 
 for a loom and a spinning wheel. Thomas Lincoln was a car- 
 penter by trade, though he was a better hunter than either 
 farmer or carpenter. This was evidenced by the skins which 
 were everywhere about the room. They were on the walls, on 
 the bed for covering, and on the two shakedowns where the 
 children slept. There was a crane in the huge fireplace, and a 
 bake kettle ; and over it great buckhorns held Tom's rifle when 
 it was not in use. On other horns hung gourds for drinking 
 cups, bags of seed, and clothing. Along one side of the room 
 was a table made from a huge hewn log standing on four legs. 
 Sarah, Abraham's sister, was setting crockery and pewter 
 upon it as Nancy, Tom, and the two lads entered. 
 
 "Me and Mis. Gollaher was a goin' to eat up all the supper 
 
A NARROW ESCAPE 19 
 
 if you hadn't come soon; wasn't we, Mis. Gollaher?" she cried 
 teasingly, shaking her finger at the boys. She was two years 
 older than Abraham, and looked very much like him with the 
 difference that whereas Abraham had no claim to good looks 
 the sister was with justice termed a pretty girl. 
 
 "That we were," agreed Austin's mother. 
 
 "Well now that we air all here s'posin' we set up?" sug- 
 gested Thomas. "I for one am right down hungry." 
 
 The meal was disposed of at length, Austin and his mother 
 had gone home, the supper work was out of the way, and the 
 family sat down outside the door to talk over the events of 
 the day. 
 
 "Ma," spoke Abraham abruptly, "Austin says that I wasn't 
 born here. Was I ?" 
 
 "Austin's right," spoke Thomas Lincoln before his wife 
 could reply; "though it beats me how the boy know'd. You was 
 born on the South Fork of Nolin's Creek, two mile and a half 
 south of Hodgen's Mills. 1 It air twelve mile across Mul- 
 draugh's Hill from here." 
 
 "Was it like this place, pa?" 
 
 "The house was about the same as this one; no better, no 
 wuss ; but there was a fine spring of water comin' outen a cleft 
 in a rock with trees all around it. It was a sort of purty like. 
 'Twas called Rock Spring Farm on account of the spring. 
 Thar, on a Sunday, the twelfth day of February, 1809, you 
 was born." 
 
 "I should like to see it," remarked the boy wistfully. 
 
 "Well you shall, sometime, sonny. Some day when I go to 
 Hodgen's Mills I'll take you along, and we'll ride out to the 
 old place." 
 
 i Now Hodgenville. 
 
20 LINCOLN 
 
 "Thank you, pa," said Abraham gratefully. "What made 
 us move from there?" 
 
 "Well, it was a mighty discouragin' piece of land to farm, 
 Abe; this here farm's a better improvement than that was. 
 Then too there was trouble over the title. This here title busi- 
 ness is a causin' a lot of movin' among us settlers," he con- 
 cluded moodily. He was even then in difficulties over the title 
 to the Knob Creek place. 
 
 "And you were a big baby too, Abe," broke in Nancy's 
 soft voice. She spoke briskly in order to take her husband's 
 mind off his troubles. "You was so large for your age that 
 people all around came to see you. Remember what the old 
 stage driver said when he was a month old, Tom?" 
 
 "He said," chuckled Tom, " 'Mis. Lincoln, this here feller's 
 as big as a yearling now. An' look at that chin! Why! he'll 
 either be Governor, or be hung. He was born for one or 
 t'other!'" 
 
 "I shall not be hung," announced the small boy with de- 
 cision. 
 
 "I hope not, my son." Nancy laid her hand caressingly on 
 his head, then uttered an exclamation. "What makes your hair 
 so damp, Abe? Why! it's just as though it had been wet." 
 
 The lad hung his head. He had not thought of his hair which 
 was thick and heavy. There had not been time for it to dry 
 thoroughly. 
 
 "Most likely they was in the crick," observed Tom dryly. 
 "Was you, Abe?" 
 
 "I — I fell in," blurted out Abraham. "I didn't go to do it. 
 I was tryin' to coon across a log to look for partridges on the 
 other side when I lost my hold, and tumbled in. Austin fished 
 
A NARROW ESCAPE 21 
 
 me out with a pole, and pounded and rolled me so's to git the 
 water outen me. I didn't go to do it. I — " 
 
 But Nancy had him in a close embrace. "Oh," she breathed, 
 "if you had been drowned !" 
 
 "Now, now, Nancy," remonstrated her husband. "The boy's 
 not hurt. Don't take on so. He's none the wuss for the experi- 
 ence. Maybe it'll teach him not to go nigh the crick when it's 
 high. Tell us about it, sonny." 
 
 Abraham related the happening in full, even to the part 
 where the two boys had made up their minds not to tell of the 
 matter. Nancy held him tightly in her arms as he told the story. 
 
 "As though I would whip you for that," she said when he 
 had finished the tale. 
 
 "Come here, sonny, an' I'll tell you about how nigh I come 
 to bein' killed when I was your age," said his father. "Let's see, 
 you're six; ain't you?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." Abraham went to Thomas who picked him up, 
 set him on his knee, and began to stroke his dark head. Sarah 
 left her seat on the doorlog, and crouched at his feet, slipping 
 her hand into her brother's as she did so. 
 
 "Well it happened nigh to Bear Grass Fort not far from 
 whar Louisville now stands. Father had come from Rocking- 
 ham County, Virginny, with mother and us five children — 
 three boys and two gals — long back in 1782, to settle thar. 
 You see Dan'l Boone had gone into Kaintuck, and had come 
 back with sech tales of how rich the land was, an' that the 
 woods was as full of game as an egg is of meat, an' that thar 
 was so much timber that it couldn't be cut down in a hun- 
 dred years. Sech tales, that people all over the State of Vir- 
 ginny was a packin' up, and goin' thar. As I said father was 
 
22 LINCOLN 
 
 one of 'em, an' we went along with a party that ole Dan'l his- 
 self was a leadin' down the Wilderness Road, through the 
 Cumberland Gap, and so on into Kaintuck. Father took up 
 land on the Lickin' River, nigh Bear Grass Fort; about two 
 thousand acres. 
 
 "We had been settled thar goin' onto four years when, one 
 day, father and us boys went into the fields to do some work. 
 Thar was three of us boys; Mordecai who was ten year old; 
 Josiah who was eight ; and me — Thomas — who was six. It was 
 nigh thirty year ago, but I remember it as well as if it was yis- 
 terday." 
 
 Thomas paused and drew hard on his pipe. The little group 
 about him was listening intently. The long summer twilight 
 deepened into dusk. The stars came out. Now and again the 
 quiet was broken by the sharp whiz of insects darting here 
 and there through the gloaming. A soft breeze rustled the tree 
 tops. Crickets chirped under the logs and through the grass. 
 The frogs sang in the marshes of the creek. From the forest 
 came the mournful hoot of an owl. 
 
 "Well, as I was sayin'," Thomas went on presently, "your 
 grandpa was clearin' the field an' I was with him a helpin' 
 him all I could. Mordecai and Josiah was workin' nigh the 
 edge of the forest, not far off. I remember lookin' up at father 
 as he worked, an' thinkin' what a big fine man he was. You 
 was named for him, Abe, an' I hope that you'll be as good a 
 man as he was. 
 
 "All of a suddent, there come a shot from somewhere, and 
 father drapped dead right thar before my very eyes. I was that 
 dazed that I couldn't do anything but stand thar a lookin' 
 at him, even though the Injuns had riz up all around us. 
 Rut Mordecai had his wits about him. Shoutin' to Josiah to go 
 
A NARROW ESCAPE 23 
 
 to the stockade for help, he hisself run to the cabin, and got 
 father's rifle. You see mother an' the gals was thar alone. A 
 big Injun come, and stoopin' over me lifted me up, an' was 
 either about to kill me, or take me off into the forest, when 
 thar come a shot from the house, an' he fell in a heap. Mord 
 had fired through a chink in the walls, and the ball had gone 
 clean through the Red. 
 
 "He had took a big risk of shootin' me 'sted of the Injun 
 in doin' it, but he aimed at an ornament on the Injun's breast, 
 and chanct it. An' the shot went straight to the mark." 
 
 Tom paused again, and was silent so long and became so 
 wrapped in thought that his pipe went out unheeded. Abe be- 
 gan to fidget on his knee. 
 
 "And what happened then, pa?" he asked when the silence 
 grew unbearable. He was to hear the story many times after- 
 wards, but the suspense of a protracted wait was too much to 
 ask a small boy to endure in the first telling. 
 
 "Then?" Tom came to himself with a start. "Oh, then mother 
 come out a callin' me to come to her. She stood outside the 
 cabin door a holdin' out her arms to me, never thinkin' that the 
 Redskins might shoot her too; an' Mordecai kept pepperin' 
 them through the chinks in the walls. Then here come Josiah 
 on the run from the fort with a lot of settlers who soon 
 scattered the Injuns. But Mord was wild about 'em after- 
 wards. Would hunt and kill every savage he could." 
 
 Darkness had settled over the valley. With the deepening 
 shadow the fluttering of wings and chirping ceased, and a 
 vague stillness spread over the cabin and everything around it. 
 In the hush it seemed as if anything might happen. The In- 
 dians had long since been driven back, and there was no longer 
 danger from them. But the story, the darkness, brought the 
 
24 LINCOLN 
 
 fear that somewhere they might lurk in the depths of the 
 forest, and swoop down upon them. Involuntarily the children 
 drew closer to their father. A whip-poor-will uttered its plain- 
 tive notes suddenly from a near by tree, and so startled Sarah 
 that she screamed. Nancy rose quickly. 
 
 "See how scared we air from that story, Tom," she said. 
 "Come in, all of you. We will seek comfort from God's word." 
 
 Going into the cabin she lighted the tallow dips, and taking 
 the Bible from its shelf read from its promises; for this pio- 
 neer woman could both read and write, and stood on a higher 
 intellectual plane than those around her. Then Thomas — they 
 were both devout Baptists — led in prayer, after which the 
 family sought its repose. 
 
CHAPTER TWO 
 
 LIFE IN THE CABIN 
 
 Through the long summer days that followed Abraham 
 waited patiently for his father to take him to see the place 
 where he had been born. He was destined, however, never to 
 see it. All that he ever knew of it was what he heard his father 
 and mother tell. 
 
 Thomas Lincoln was kept busy that summer. In addition 
 to his farm work he did occasional odd jobs of carpenter work 
 for the other settlers, and he had recently been appointed a 
 county road surveyor. He fished and hunted for the family's 
 meat supply; the skins of the animals that he brought down 
 with his gun finding a ready market in the towns. Those that 
 were not sold added materially to the clothing of the family. 
 After they were tanned, they were made into shirts, breeches, 
 and moccasins. Caps were usually made from coonskins, 
 though sometimes of opossum. Besides all this, he was much 
 at court. 
 
 Kentucky was a State of conflicting land titles. The old 
 Virginia surveys did not always join; they often overlapped, 
 and later surveys found their measurements wrong. Taking 
 advantage of this state of things large real estate operators, 
 
 25 
 
26 LINCOLN 
 
 from other States, bought great tracts of land which frequently- 
 included the holdings of settlers who had bought under the old 
 surveys. As a consequence, disputes over the title and owner- 
 ship of farms were of common occurrence. This was the nature 
 of a suit which had recently been brought against Thomas. 
 There were other claimants to the Knob Creek Farm who 
 sought to evict him from a place which he had bought and 
 on which he paid taxes. So what with one thing and another 
 Thomas was kept very busy that summer. It was no wonder 
 that his promise to his small son to take him to the farm on 
 Nolin's Creek should slip from his mind. 
 
 And Abraham, child though he was, was busy too. In a 
 pioneer household, children were put to doing easy chores as 
 soon as they were strong enough to perform them, no pair of 
 hands being too small to help. So the six-year-old boy kept 
 the wood box filled, gathered plenty of chips for the washing, 
 soap making and trying out of fats; brought in the water, 
 helped in weeding the garden, and in their season, picked the 
 wild fruits and berries which grew abundantly on the surround- 
 ing bluffs — blackberries, raspberries, huckleberries, wild plums, 
 wild grapes, persimmons, and crab apples which Nancy Lin- 
 coln dried and preserved in various ways for winter use. Later 
 in the fall, there would be hickory-nuts, walnuts, butter-nuts, 
 and hazel-nuts to be garnered and stored ; for the settlers took 
 advantage of these products of the land which were an essen- 
 tial part of the foodstuffs. Then, too, there were edible roots 
 to be dug, and certain barks to be stripped from the tree and 
 dried. All these were tasks for the children. Abraham fre- 
 quently had Sarah to help him in the performance of them; 
 but more often he was alone while his sister was helping his 
 mother. In the solitude of the woods, however, he found com- 
 
LIFE IN THE CABIN 27 
 
 panionship among the birds and small animals that pattered 
 across his path, developed self-reliance, and laid the founda- 
 tion of an exceptional fund of wood lore. 
 
 Sometimes his father would take him with him fishing; often 
 he went alone. One summer afternoon, on one of these latter 
 occasions, he fished a deep, quiet pool of the creek for a long 
 time before his efforts were rewarded. He had caught several 
 small fish under the supervision of his father, and this after- 
 noon he was delighted when he pulled in a catfish of fair size. 
 It was the first fish he had ever caught alone, and the boy could 
 not wait to catch any more, but started on a run for the house 
 to show it. 
 
 "There'll be enough for each one of us to have a taste," he 
 thought gleefully. "Only I want ma to have the biggest piece. 
 Cricky; she'll be tickled to know that I caught it all by my- 
 self." 
 
 But coming down the road he ran into a man who limped, 
 and who wore a soldier's uniform. Abe stopped abruptly. 
 
 "I'm sorry that I bumped into you, mister," he said apolo- 
 getically. 
 
 "That's all right, bub," responded the man with a smile. 
 "I s'pect I was taking more'n my share of the road any- 
 way." 
 
 "Where air you from?" queried the boy. He always ques- 
 tioned strangers, much to his father's annoyance, being curious 
 for information concerning the places they had come from and 
 those to which they were going. 
 
 "I come from Noo Orleens," the soldier replied. "I have 
 been down there with Old Hickory helping to lick the British." 
 
 "And did you lick 'em?" asked the lad eagerly. 
 
 "That we did. Licked 'em to a frazzle. I reckon England's 
 
28 LINCOLN 
 
 found out that when Ameriky cries 'Free Trade and Sailors' 
 Rights,' it means something." 
 
 "What does it mean?" asked Abe. 
 
 "Why, bub, it means that this here United States of ourn 
 can send our merchant vessels to whatever port we please, and 
 that our ships can't be searched and our men carried off to 
 serve on British ships. Now it's all over, and Old Hickory just 
 p'intedly showed 'em what righting was. 'Twas one of their 
 crack gin'rals too that we beat; Old Gin'ral Pack'n'hum was." 
 
 "And is Old Hickory a crack gin'ral too?" 
 
 "You better believe he is. Why say; he didn't have nuthing 
 but raw militia and them Creoles down there at Noo Orleens, 
 and in three weeks he had 'em drilled so that they could meet 
 them British rig'lars. Them and some Tennessee sharp shooters 
 was all he had. Yes, sir; Andy Jackson is a crack gin'ral and 
 no mistake." 
 
 "What makes you call him Old Hickory if his name's Andy 
 Jackson?" 
 
 "Well, when it comes to standing anything he's always right 
 in with the men. Puts up with everything they put up with, and 
 beats 'em all a standing hardships. They call him Old Hick- 
 ory because he's just natchully tough. And say; there can't 
 nobody beat him at handling a rifle, or breaking in and riding 
 a wild hoss." 
 
 "I'd like to see a man like that," mused Abe with all a 
 boy's admiration for daring and vigor. 
 
 "Well, maybe you will some day. You're young, and Gin'ral 
 Jackson'll be sure to be by here sometime. But I must be gittin' 
 along. The war's over, and I want to git home. I can make 
 several miles before sundown if I hurry, and this leg of mine 
 holds out. Say; that's a nice fish you've got there. Tell 
 
LIFE IN THE CABIN 29 
 
 me where you got it. Maybe I can catch one for my supper." 
 
 "I caught it in a pool down the crick a ways," answered 
 Abe slowly for he was eying his fish thoughtfully. His father 
 and mother had talked a great deal about the soldiers, and 
 had said that they must always be good to them. P'raps, p'raps 
 he ought to give this one his fish. But this was his first fish, and 
 he had wanted to show it to the family. But, too, this soldier 
 had fought and had been wounded. And if he could catch one 
 fish he could catch others. Quickly he took the fish from the 
 pole and handed it to the soldier. 
 
 "You can have this fish for your supper," he said. "Any 
 way you mightn't be able to catch one. They ain't biting a bit 
 well." Without waiting for the thanks of the man he hurried 
 on to the cabin. 
 
 "Ma," he cried bursting in upon Nancy as she sat at her 
 spinning wheel. Nancy had the reputation of being the best 
 spinner in that part of the country, and the thread she spun, 
 and the cloth she wove were in great demand. "Ma, did you 
 know the war was over?" 
 
 "Yes, Abe; your pa heard about it in Elizabethtown some 
 time ago. Who you been seeing?" 
 
 "Why, I was fishing, and I caught a fish, and I was running 
 home with it when I ran right into a soldier on the road. He 
 told me all about it. He fought with Old Hickory at Noo Or- 
 leens and they licked the British to a frazzle." 
 
 "And what did you do with the fish, son?" 
 
 "Why, why, I gave it to him for his supper," stammered the 
 boy. "You 'member you told us to be good to the soldiers ? Did 
 I do right?" half fearfully for his mother was regarding him 
 with a queer expression on her face. 
 
 Nancy Lincoln smiled at him tenderly. Well she knew what 
 
30 LINCOLN 
 
 it cost a small boy to give up his first fish. The one deep desire 
 of her heart was that he should grow into a good man. 
 
 "Yes, quite right," she told him. "I am glad that you gave 
 it to the soldier. I want you always to be kind and generous, 
 not only to soldiers but to every one about you." 
 
 Abe drew a deep breath. If his mother approved he knew 
 that what he had done was right. She was always right about 
 everything. He watched her lovingly as she took up her spin- 
 ning again. How good she was to him always. And how cheer- 
 ful she was, though she was always working. Often she sang 
 about her work; sometimes quaint ballads, at others, hymns. 
 Frequently she quoted passages of Scripture, or recited one 
 of the Psalms. Half unconsciously he would repeat the words 
 after her. To the day of his death Abe could recite the Psalms 
 and quote long extracts from the Bible learned thus from his 
 mother. The summer passed, a busy one for every member of 
 the family. 
 
 With the opening of winter Nancy insisted that the chil- 
 dren should go to school. Tom demurred. He himself had got- 
 ten along without schooling, and he didn't see any sense in it. 
 In fact, all the schooling he had ever had was what his wife 
 had given him. Nancy had taught him to read so that he could 
 spell his way through the simplest sentences of the Bible, and 
 to write his name bunglingly. To Tom's notion it was all a 
 waste of time. He belonged to the pioneers who had little need 
 of books. They learned from the great book of Nature. Hardy, 
 sturdy men were they who cleared the way for civilization, 
 fighting with such odds as few men have met and conquered. 
 So now Tom spoke according to his light: 
 
 "All them children need, Nancy, is to know how to work. 
 Abe in pertic'ler don't want any larnin'. What he wants to 
 
LIFE IN THE CABIN 31 
 
 know is how to use an axe and a plow ; to larn how to hunt and 
 to fish. Then when he gits older I'll make a carpenter outen 
 him." 
 
 "But I want him to have some learning, Tom," protested his 
 wife. "I want him to know something more than hard work. 
 I want him to go ahead of us. Be something more than we have 
 been." 
 
 "Lawsy, Nancy, you had some larnin' yourself, and what has 
 it brung you? You have to work just as hard as the women 
 who don't know a pot hook from a turkey track. An' you 
 didn't marry any better than they did." 
 
 "Now, Tom, you know I wouldn't want any different man 
 from you. You air a good husband, loving and tender; I 
 wouldn't want any other man. But I do want that our boy, 
 and girl too, should have something more than hard work." 
 
 "Have it your own way, Nancy," responded Tom much mol- 
 lified. "But it's plumb downright foolishness and a waste of 
 money to my way of thinkin'." 
 
 So Nancy had her desire and the boy and girl went to 
 school. There were no free schools in Kentucky at this time. 
 Such schools as there were, the A, B, C schools, were con- 
 ducted on a subscription basis. If there were few pupils there 
 was little to make it profitable for the teacher, and not much 
 gain to the pupils. Men who were learned did not care to under- 
 take teaching for the little there was in it. As a consequence, 
 the school sessions were infrequent and not of long duration. 
 There had been one held the winter before, by Mr. Zachariah 
 Riney, which Abe and Sarah attended. It had lasted but a few 
 weeks. The present one was to be conducted by Mr. Caleb 
 Hazel. 
 
 The children started off the first day without demur. They 
 
32 LINCOLN 
 
 were accustomed to yielding obedience without question; but 
 Abe voiced a secret reluctance to his sister as they walked two 
 miles up the road to the schoolhouse. 
 
 "I won't mind going to school a bit, Sally," he said, "if 
 the new teacher don't teach with a birch in his hand, like old 
 Zach Riney did. Bless'd if he didn't go round a tappin' us 
 with that switch all the time." 
 
 "All you've got to do, Abe, is to study as loud as you can," 
 replied his sister. "How can teacher know whether you air 
 studying or not if he can't hear you? And you shouldn't say 
 'Old Zach Riney.' You should say Mister Riney." 
 
 "All the boys say it," answered Abe. "An' I'll study as loud 
 as if I was helpin' pa call the hogs, if it will save a lickin'." 
 
 The schoolhouse was a little log room about fifteen feet 
 square, with a fireplace on one side. The floor was of dirt, 
 pounded down. There were no windows, and but one door. The 
 children were required to study out loud, for only in this way 
 could the teacher know that they were getting their lessons. 
 It was a method by which the children were at least kept busy. 
 To small Abe's consternation Mr. Hazel was provided with a 
 hickory stick with which he moved about among the pupils 
 administering frequent punishment to those pupils who did 
 not study loud enough for him to know that they were studious. 
 "Lickin' and larnin' " were synonymous in the minds of the 
 teachers of the day. The habits of studying aloud acquired by 
 Abe in these "Blab schools," as they were called, remained 
 with him all his life. He read aloud and couldn't read other- 
 wise. The books were very few; Dillworth's Speller being the 
 principal one in use. In spite of this fact, both Abe and Sarah 
 learned to read, to write their names, and to make numbers. 
 
Often Travellers Stopped for the Night and There Followed 
 an Evening of Talk 
 
LIFE IN THE CABIN 33 
 
 There were few settlers, and not all the children of the neigh- 
 borhood attended school. Consequently it lasted but a short 
 time. But among her other duties Nancy Lincoln found time 
 to hear their lessons so that they should not forget what they 
 had learned; using her one book — the Bible — as a textbook. 
 And Nancy had many duties. She carded, spun and wove the 
 wool from the sheep, when Thomas Lincoln had any; dressed 
 the skins of the animals brought down by his rifle; made his 
 clothing, her own, and the children's; cooked, washed, ironed, 
 and milked the cows. But always when the day's work was 
 done she gathered the family around her and read from the 
 Bible: stories of Abraham, Moses, and David and the Christ 
 Child. 
 
 Often travellers stopped for the night, for the Louisville 
 and Nashville Pike had much travel, and there would follow 
 an evening of talk and stories. Abe liked such evenings. 
 Crouched down in the "flue," or leaning against his father's 
 knee, he would listen attentively, often asking questions. There 
 would be the discussion of public affairs, for frequently there 
 were politicians passing. A wide range of topics was discussed 
 before the wide-awake boy who pondered and puzzled over 
 what he heard. Some part of it all took root in his subconscious- 
 ness, and lay smouldering. 
 
 Meantime, Abe passed his seventh birthday. In the follow- 
 ing spring his father took him with him into the fields to help 
 with the planting. He learned the art of corn-dropping, and 
 was instructed to remember to drop two pumpkin seeds into 
 every other hill of corn. The main crop was corn, but Thomas 
 planted also some beans, a few potatoes, and some onions. 
 
 But amid all the planting and work Tom Lincoln was un- 
 
34 LINCOLN 
 
 easy. Despite the fact that his claim to the farm had been sus- 
 tained by the Court, he was not sure what the final outcome 
 would be. The settlers were many of them uncertain as to their 
 titles, and there was much talk concerning the state of things. 
 Even Daniel Boone, who had led the vanguard of civilization 
 into the Kentucky wilderness, had been bereft of his lands, and 
 had not one acre left to his name. What had happened to him 
 was happening to other settlers also. There was no guarantee 
 that it might not happen to Tom as well. So he was silent 
 and distraught, brooding over the matter. 
 
 The climax came one Sunday morning in the spring. As 
 has been said, the farm consisted of three fields, the largest 
 of which contained seven acres. On Saturday afternoon 
 Thomas had finished planting the corn in the big field while 
 Abe dropped the pumpkin seed, two seeds every other hill and 
 every other row. 
 
 "Thar now, Abe," Thomas remarked with satisfaction, "I 
 reckon we can enjoy our Sunday's rest with a clear conscience. 
 Thar's only the two small fields left to plant, and then our 
 work will be over for a spell." 
 
 "Yes, sir," answered Abe. His muscles ached, and his body 
 was full of mortal weariness; but he was seven years old, and 
 therefore too big to complain. 
 
 Both father and son went to bed with a sense of work well 
 done. In the morning they woke to find that a big rain was 
 falling in the hills. It did not rain a drop in the valley, but the 
 water came down in torrents through the gorges, and spread 
 over the farm, washing ground, corn, pumpkin seed and all off 
 the field. 
 
 Thomas watched the flood in its work of ruin in silence. 
 Nancy came, and laid her hand tenderly on his shoulder. 
 
LIFE IN THE CABIN 35 
 
 "Never mind, Tom," she said. "There will be some way 
 provided to make up the loss. And the other fields are left." 
 
 "The way is provided," exclaimed Thomas bringing his right 
 fist down into the palm of his left hand emphatically. "This 
 here settles the matter! I'm goin' to move to Indianny." 
 
CHAPTER THREE 
 
 THE MOVE 
 
 From this time forth Thomas's moodiness was gone. The 
 more he dwelt upon the idea of moving to Indiana the more en- 
 thusiastic he became. 
 
 "I'll tell you what, Nancy," he said one day, "I'll make this 
 a big ven'ter, the biggest of my life. I'll git together all the 
 produce I can, sell the farm, build a boat, and float down the 
 Rolling Fork to the Salt River and on into the Ohio, trading 
 as I go. When I git to Indianny I'll locate, and then come 
 back for you and the children. What do you say?" 
 
 Nancy sighed. They had been married but ten years, and 
 had already lived on four places, all in Hardin County. When 
 they were first married Thomas had taken her to a cabin in 
 Elizabethtown where Sarah had been born. When she was a 
 little more than a year old they had moved to a farm near 
 Buffalo; "The Plumb Orchard Cabin," it had been called, be- 
 cause it was in a grove of wild crab apples. Here they had 
 stayed but a few months when they had removed to the Rock 
 Spring Farm, on Nolin Creek, where a short time later Abra- 
 ham was born. When the boy was four years old they had 
 moved to Knob Creek where they had been three years. And 
 now another move ! It was no wonder she sighed. 
 
 The Knob Creek Farm was fertile, and was a good farm 
 in many respects. Save only in the matter of title — which might 
 
 36 
 
THE MOVE 37 
 
 in the final settlement be decided against him — she did not be- 
 lieve they would be bettered by moving. It would mean leaving 
 friends and relatives, — both Thomas and Nancy had a number 
 of relations scattered over Hardin County, — to go among 
 strangers. But Nancy had learned a wife's lesson of yielding 
 her own judgment to that of her husband. If her man thought 
 he could do better by leaving the State, why, she would not 
 oppose him, but help him all she could. 
 
 So she answered gently: "Well, Tom, if you think it will 
 better us we'll make the move." 
 
 "I know 'twill, Nancy. 'Sides, there's gittin' to be too many 
 slave holders in Hardin County. Indianny is a free State, and 
 a poor man'll stand a better show of gittin' on." 
 "Has it come into the Union yet, Tom?" 
 "No; but there's talk of its being admitted soon." 
 So the family began making its preparations for the move. 
 Nancy wove an extra supply of cloth, Tom collected as many 
 skins as possible, for the expedition was to be a trading as well 
 as a prospecting one, and the children undertook additional 
 tasks. Sarah learned to milk that her mother might have more 
 time for the weaving, while seven-year-old Abe attended to all 
 the weeding of the garden, and learned to cultivate corn by 
 riding the horse between the furrows. 
 
 In his spare time Tom cut timbers which were near at hand, 
 and hewed the logs for the boat. He had his own ideas of how 
 such a boat should be built. The majority of trading boats were 
 broad, flat-bottomed barges, called Kentucky Arks. Thomas 
 believed that a boat should be built high and narrow for the 
 sake of speed. His neighbors laughed at the idea, but he stuck 
 to his notion. At last all was in readiness, and the family stood 
 on the bank, early one morning, to speed Tom on his journey. 
 
38 LINCOLN 
 
 "Do you reckon you'll be gone long, Tom?" asked Nancy 
 wistfully. 
 
 "Not a mite longer than I can help, Nancy," answered he. 
 "The most of the time will be took in sellin' the cargo along 
 shore. That done I'll make a location, and come back a kala- 
 hootin'. You won't be afraid here with the children?" 
 
 "No, Tom," said his wife quietly. She did not know what 
 fear was. "But I shall be anxious about you." 
 
 "Shucks, honey! never you mind about me. I'll be as fit as 
 a fiddle all the time I'm gone. Jest you and the children keep 
 well, and be ready to start when I come back. Good-bye!" He 
 kissed them all, lifted Abe high in the air, whispering as he put 
 him back on the ground: "You air the only man left on the 
 place, sonny. Take good keer of your mother and sister." 
 
 "I will," promised the boy earnestly. 
 
 And then began the weary weeks of waiting for the little 
 family. Weeks fraught with keenest anxiety to the waiting 
 wife ; filled with eager anticipation for the children. There was 
 more leisure at the cabin now, and Nancy improved it by keep- 
 ing the boy and girl at their lessons, and finishing the few 
 preparations left to be made for the journey. And then one 
 day Thomas suddenly walked in. He had returned by land and 
 on foot. He threw down several squirrels as he entered. 
 
 "I reckon you all ain't had nothin' but 'hog and hominy' 
 since I've been gone," he drawled quite as though he had been 
 away but a day or two. "That'll be a change." 
 
 "And how did you make out with the cargo, Tom?" asked 
 Nancy after the greetings were over. 
 
 Tom hesitated. "Well, the truth is I had an accident. That 
 boat of mine went all right all the way down Salt River. Noth- 
 in' couldn't have been purtier than the way she floated. But 
 
THE MOVE 39 
 
 when we turned into the Ohio, bless'd if an eddy didn't twist 
 her so that she upsot, and the hull cargo went to the bottom." 
 
 "Oh, Tom!" 
 
 "Never mind, honey, I got the most of it back. You see 
 the river had overflowed, and the water soon went down. I 
 jest natchully waited till it did, then I fished up my tools, my 
 rifle, and most of the cargo; got the boat righted, an' went on 
 down to Thompson's Ferry in Perry County, Indianny, where 
 I left the goods with a man named Posey." 
 
 "And did you fall in too, Pa?" queried Abe. 
 
 "Yes, sonny; but I swum out. Then I struck off into the 
 wilderness, lookin' for a location. You 'member Thomas Car- 
 ter who moved from here? Well, I asked the way to his place, 
 and found that he had located on Pigeon Creek, so I made for 
 thar. Of course I had to make this part of the trip afoot." 
 
 "And did you locate, Tom?" asked Nancy quickly as Tom 
 paused. The children were listening breathlessly. 
 
 "Yep. 'Bout sixteen miles back from the Ohio: and say! 
 you'll have to look fur to find a purtier spot. I took up claim 
 of a quarter section of land on Little Pigeon Creek in Perry 
 County. 1 Notched some trees, cleared away the brush, an' piled 
 it up, done everything the Land Laws of the Government re- 
 quire; shouldered my axe, an' come back a kilter, as I said 
 I'd do. An' now I'm ready to clear outen here as soon as we 
 can." 
 
 "We can be ready in a few days, Tom," Nancy assured him. 
 
 But it was not in Tom's nature to hurry; so some little time 
 elapsed before the departure took place. There was a round 
 of visits from relatives when the news went forth that the 
 family was to leave the State, and Nancy herself had a sad 
 
 i Later divided into Spencer County. 
 
40 LINCOLN 
 
 visit to make. Taking Sarah and Abraham with her, she went 
 to the graveyard at Hodgenville, where there was a small 
 green mound over which she shed many tears. It was the grave 
 of her third child, a boy two years younger than Abraham, 
 whom she had named Thomas. Had he lived they would have 
 had a little brother, five years old, to go with them to Indiana, 
 she told them. And the mother's tears fell fast as at length she 
 turned away, and left forever the little grave in its unmarked 
 desolation. 
 
 The day for departure came at last, and the route to be 
 travelled had been determined beforehand. It would not be a 
 long journey. Could they have gone straight across the coun- 
 try the distance would have been about fifty miles. As they 
 were obliged to travel it, through woods with detours for hills 
 and fords, it would be double that distance. What was left 
 of the household goods was packed into bundles and bags, and 
 loaded on two horses. Nancy with Sarah behind her mounted 
 one horse; Tom and Abe climbed on the other, and they were 
 off. 
 
 Whenever a day's journey was ended the horses would be 
 unpacked, and turned loose to graze the grass which grew 
 luxuriantly everywhere. Thomas and Abe would gather wood 
 and kindle a fire; then Nancy and Sally would cook the sup- 
 per. Most often they had game of some sort for the forest 
 abounded in wild creatures suitable for eating; but at times 
 it would be "hog and hominy." Supper over they would gather 
 about the fire and Tom, in his element now, would tell them 
 stories of wild animals, of Daniel Boone, and of other great 
 trappers and hunters; stories well known throughout the 
 State. He told them too how Kentucky, because of the endless 
 struggles between the warring tribes of Red men for the pos- 
 
THE MOVE 41 
 
 session of its hunting grounds, had always been called the 
 "dark and bloody" ground. And none of them dreamed that 
 it was yet to be the scene of still bloodier battles, in a great 
 conflict between North and South, in which the small boy 
 listening so attentively was to have the leading part. 
 
 Story-telling over, a bed of boughs would be spread, fur 
 skins thrown over them, and they would be lulled to sleep by 
 the music of falling waters, or of leaves rustling in the wind. 
 In this manner they went through the woods until after a 
 few days they came to the Kentucky side of the ferry which 
 crossed the Ohio from Anderson's Creek. 
 
 "Thar's Indianny at last," cried Tom. "Now we'll git across, 
 and stay for the night with Posey, where I left my truck, and 
 tomorrer we'll strike out for the place. What air you lookin' 
 at, Abe?" 
 
 "I'm lookin' at the water, pa, and a wonderin' where it all 
 come from," the boy told him, his eyes wide. "I reckon that's 
 about the biggest river in the world; ain't it?" 
 
 "Shucks! that ain't a patchin' to the Mississippi, sonny. 
 Now thar's a river as is a river. This here river pours into it, 
 and a passel of others jest as big as this one. As to where all 
 this water comes from, why there's two rivers jine up at Pitts- 
 burgh to make this here Ohio. And then a lot of it comes from 
 the mountains. Thar comes the ferry now." 
 
 A large, flat-bottomed boat was paddled slowly across the 
 swift and muddy Ohio in answer to Tom's hail. It looked a 
 great deal like the craft Tom had built at the mouth of Knob's 
 Creek, and the family embarked upon it with some trepidation. 
 The passage was made in safety, however, and then Tom led 
 the way to the house of Mr. Posey, where he had left his 
 goods, and where they passed the night. 
 
42 LINCOLN 
 
 The next morning Thomas hired a lumber wagon, loaded 
 the packs of their horses and the stuff he had left with Posey 
 into it, and started for the land he had staked off in the heart 
 of the virgin forest. It lay sixteen miles northwest of the 
 ferry, but the way thither was through an unbroken country, 
 and was beset with difficulties. With the resolution of pioneers, 
 however, they plunged into the trackless forest, and began the 
 journey. There were no roads, and they tried to follow the 
 trail Tom had blazed upon his previous trip. It was a difficult 
 thing to do, for the trail was very narrow. There was nothing 
 for it but to cut down the brush and trees to make a road for 
 the wagon. By the time the chosen site was reached Thomas 
 had left behind him a passable road to the ferry; which was just 
 as well as it would be their future market place. It was hard 
 work, but it was only a foretaste of what was to come. 
 
 They stopped at last on a beautiful, densely wooded knoll 
 on the land which Thomas had selected as a home. There was 
 nothing to be seen but trees; trees of great size for it was a 
 forest primeval, deep and shadowy. 
 
 Its shadows were reflected in Nancy's eyes, and her heart 
 was heavy. In the midst of a virgin forest and miles from a 
 school! How were the children to receive the learning she 
 wished them to have? True, she herself had some knowledge; 
 she had read a few, very few, books; had seen some news- 
 papers, but such learning as she possessed would not carry 
 them far. She knew her limitations. Abraham saw that she was 
 sad about something, and going to her he put his arm about 
 her. 
 
 "Cricky, ma," he said with one of his sunshiny smiles, 
 "there'll be plenty of wood; won't there?" 
 
CHAPTER FOUR 
 
 THE NEW HOME 
 
 As Thomas had said, one would have to go far to find a pret- 
 tier spot than the one he had selected as a site for a home; but 
 it was a mile distant from the spring which is a long way to 
 carry water. It was a wild region with many bears and other 
 animals, and camping in the open had its dangers. Also the 
 nights were growing cold, and the rains and storms of winter 
 would soon be upon them. The first great need of the family 
 was a shelter that would serve as a protection both from the 
 weather and the wild animals. It had to be one that could be 
 erected quickly; so Thomas decided upon a pole-shelter, or 
 "Hunter's-camp," sometimes termed a "Half-faced Camp." 
 As he started to cut down some trees for this purpose, he 
 called Abraham to him, and putting an axe into his hands, 
 said: 
 
 "You air big and strong for your age, sonny. Don't you 
 reckon you could help me with this choppin'?" 
 
 "Yes, pa," answered the boy sturdily. 
 
 Clasping the axe handle in a firm grip he started in to work. 
 There were quantities of rank undergrowth to be cleared out, 
 branches to be trimmed off the trees that his father chopped 
 
 43 
 
44 LINCOLN 
 
 down, and small saplings that he could cut. It was hard work : 
 too hard for so young a lad, but the need was urgent. 
 
 At length a sufficient number of logs were ready for the 
 structure, and Nancy and Sarah were called in to help with 
 the placing. Thomas had selected a southern slope for the site 
 where two straight trees stood about fourteen feet apart east 
 and west. He trimmed and topped these so that they would 
 serve as corner posts for the open front of the shelter. The 
 camp was to be built on three sides with the fourth side open 
 to the south. The logs, about fourteen feet in length, were fas- 
 tened with wooden pins to the posts and laid in log-cabin 
 fashion until the walls reached the proper height. These formed 
 the framework. Against these a number of other poles were 
 leaned and fastened, and a roof of small poles woven with 
 branches and thatched with brush and dry leaves and grass was 
 put over all. The openings between the logs were then chinked 
 with mud. In front of the open side a fireplace was built of 
 tempered clay and sticks. It was big and solid, for its fire 
 must be kept going day and night. Its flame must never be 
 allowed to die out, not only for the comfort of the family, 
 but also for the protection it gave from wild animals. When 
 the earth inclosed by its three sides had been pounded hard 
 for a floor Tom turned to Nancy with, 
 
 "Thar it is, Nancy, and I reckon it will do all right for the 
 winter. We'll be as snug as a b'ar in a tree." 
 
 "I reckon so too, Tom," replied Nancy. 
 
 It was a miserable shelter at best, but it would answer for 
 the time being. The moving was easy of accomplishment. 
 Nancy had not realized how few things were left of the house 
 furnishings until she came to put them in order. Boughs and 
 leaves with blankets and skins spread over them must serve as 
 
THE NEW HOME 45 
 
 beds, and stools were fashioned from short lengths of logs. 
 Tom promised to make some furniture as soon as he had time. 
 
 The completion of the shelter, however, did not end Abra- 
 ham's use of the axe. There was the fire to be kept going, and 
 there was also a clearing to be made ready for the planting 
 in the Spring. It meant no small amount of work for the boy, 
 and day after day his axe rang with his father's through the 
 woods, and his strokes grew surer with each day's labor. 
 
 With the coming of Spring the hardships and privations 
 were forgotten. In March, when the sap began to run, Tom 
 tapped some maple trees. Then came the sugaring, the warm 
 days and freezing nights when the earth stirs in her sleep and 
 the taps drip from sunrise to sunset. Nancy and Sarah boiled 
 and grained as Tom and Abe brought the sap, and kept the 
 fire going under the big iron kettle. The days flew by so quickly 
 that the swelling buds of the trees had burst into flower before 
 they were aware; and white dogwood, crab apple and red bud 
 made the forest a thing of beauty. The birds were on the wing, 
 flocks of them; and countless wild flowers made the banks of 
 the streams look like gardens. Life was indeed a busy thing 
 for the family, but it was amid a world of marvels. 
 
 There had been enough of land cleared around the cabin for 
 a patch of corn and potatoes to be planted, and a smaller piece 
 for garden truck. Tom aimed to raise only enough corn to 
 keep the meal box supplied. It hardly paid to raise more, for 
 corn brought little or nothing, so far was the farm from mar- 
 ket. Abe dropped the seed, being careful to drop the yellow 
 grains of corn in the light of the moon; while he planted the 
 potatoes in the dark of the moon. The superstition of the 
 time decreed that they must be so planted, else there would 
 be no crops. 
 
46 LINCOLN 
 
 And yet, in spite of work and the interest the new country 
 excited, that first year in the wilderness was a lonesome one 
 for the boy. His sister was with him at times to share in his 
 tasks and games, but for the most part Sarah was learning to 
 help her mother in her daily duties even as her brother was 
 following the footsteps of their father. There were no near 
 neighbors, no lads to play with ; so he was much alone. 
 
 But he was growing. Not only physically but mentally. 
 There came to him a sense of power in being able to do things. 
 Along with toughened muscles the spirit of the woods entered 
 into him. The solemn hush of the vast wilderness had its voices 
 of bird, and insect, wind, rain, and storm. Each season had its 
 own forms, and movements, and colorings. He watched the 
 changes of Nature with ever-increasing interest. Uncon- 
 sciously he was being moulded by the solitary days, the monot- 
 onous weeks, and the lonely, silent forest. 
 
 Part of the logs for the new home had been cut in the winter, 
 as Thomas had found time to do them; so as soon as the sow- 
 ing and planting were over, he began to build his cabin. With 
 such help as he could get the logs were rolled and hoisted into 
 their places. The cabin was large for the time, being eighteen 
 feet square, and the hewn logs had the bark left on them. It 
 stood about forty feet from the camp on the knoll. There was 
 neither a floor, nor a window, nor boards for a door. It had 
 been Tom's intention to lay a floor, but time pressed; so he 
 contented himself with pounding the dirt hard, as he had done 
 in the half-faced camp. The structure was finished with a huge 
 chimney, and a low attic reached by means of pegs driven 
 into the logs in one corner. This was to be Abe's bedroom. 
 
 There had been but eight families scattered over Pigeon 
 Creek Valley when Thomas Lincoln moved into it, but in the 
 
THE NEW HOME 47 
 
 Spring of 1817 Indiana became a State, and settlers came 
 pouring in. In the late Summer came Nancy's aunt, Mrs. 
 Betsey Sparrow, who had cared for her in childhood. With 
 her came her husband, Thomas Sparrow, and her nephew, 
 Dennis Hanks, Nancy's cousin. Dennis was a young fellow of 
 eighteen years — old enough to be of great help about the farm, 
 and still young enough to be a companion to Abe. He was full 
 of fun, wild about hunting and trapping, and knew almost as 
 many stories as Thomas Lincoln himself. 
 
 The family welcomed them joyfully. The new home was not 
 quite finished but they moved into it, and turned over the pole- 
 shelter to the Sparrows to use until they could locate. 
 
 Eight-year-old Abe was very much excited over their com- 
 ing, and ran to and fro between the two cabins helping with 
 the moving. On one of these trips he found himself the sole 
 occupant of the large cabin, the others having gone back to the 
 camp. As he started for the door to run after them a flock of 
 wild turkeys came out of the woods and approached the cabin. 
 For a moment he stood. He did not care much about shooting. 
 It was the one backwoods art in which he never perfected him- 
 self. Tom had vainly tried to interest him in hunting, and had 
 taught him to shoot at a mark. Now, however, obeying a sud- 
 den impulse, he took up his father's rifle, and shot at the tur- 
 keys through a crack in the walls. A bird fell, and full of ela- 
 tion at having brought down his game at one shot, he ran 
 out, and picking it up started pell-mell for the camp. 
 
 "See," he cried gleefully holding it up to view. "I shot it. 
 Cook it for supper, ma; so Aunt Betsey can have some." 
 
 "Very well, Abe," said his mother taking the turkey. But 
 at supper she noticed that the boy did not eat any of the 
 bird. 
 
48 LINCOLN 
 
 "Why don't you eat some, Abe?" asked Sally. "I should 
 think you'd eat a whole lot bein' as how it's the first one you 
 ever shot. Shouldn't you, Dennis?" 
 
 "Yes," answered Dennis. "What's the matter, Abe?" 
 
 "I just don't keer for it," responded Abe solemnly. His 
 mother smiled a wise little smile. She noticed too that while 
 the boy talked for a week about his prowess in bringing down 
 the bird he did not seem to care about doing any more shoot- 
 ing. It was in fact, the only time he ever pulled trigger on 
 game of any sort. There was something within him that re- 
 belled against killing. 
 
 The second winter was easier than the first one had been. 
 The heavy work of clearing the timber for corn was finished. 
 While there still remained much work to be done life was 
 more diversified. There was not only another family to visit, 
 but other new settlers were coming into the valley, and scat- 
 tering their cabins here and there, all through the woods. Their 
 coming brought special occasions of festivity. The men in- 
 dulged in fox, deer, and bear hunts by day, and coon hunts by 
 night. There were log-raisings and frolics, and corn-huskings ; 
 a church was organized with the meetings held at private 
 houses. There was even talk of a school. On the whole, matters 
 bid fair to go well as the Spring of 1818 brought its magic of 
 beauty to the forest. 
 
 With the heats of the Summer, however, trouble came. One 
 colorful day in the latter part of August Abe and Sarah were 
 out in an open glade of the woods picking blackberries. They 
 were large and luscious berries, the biggest and best they had 
 yet found. But Abe picked them without comment. Usually, 
 on such occasions, he was merry and full of fun, playing tricks 
 on Sally so that the forest would ring with their laughter. To- 
 
THE NEW HOME 49 
 
 day he was so quiet that his sister glanced at him anxiously. 
 
 "What makes ye so still, Abe?" she asked at length. "I have 
 called to you twicet, and you didn't answer. What's the mat- 
 ter? You sick?" 
 
 "I was thinking about ma, Sally. Have you noticed how 
 bad she looks ? It 'pears to me like she's gittin' thin." 
 
 "She's worried," Sally told him promptly. "I heard her and 
 pa talkin' about it last night." 
 
 "Worried? What about?" Abe ceased his picking abruptly. 
 
 "Well, if I tell you, you mustn't let on that I said anything 
 about it." Sally lowered her voice and glanced about appre- 
 hensively. "Pa said not to say anything before Dennis or us 
 children because we might git scared. When he was at the 
 Landing last week he heard that the milk-sick had broke out 
 among the cattle on Pigeon Creek ; an' yisterday he heard that 
 it was spreadin', an' that lots of cattle and hosses too was a- 
 dyin' on the farms. Ma is worried that it will git ourn too." 
 
 "Milk-sick? What is that?" asked the boy wonderingly. 
 
 "It's a disease. Pa called it a pest. He said nobody know'd 
 where it come from, or what caused it. And ma said some of 
 the women told her that the Indians claimed that it was caused 
 by the cattle eatin' pizen yarbs in the woods. Sometimes people 
 git it too. Now don't tell that I told you." 
 
 "I won't tell," promised Abe. But he pondered the matter 
 seriously, trying to think what it meant, and why it was so bad 
 as to make his mother worry. He was not required to keep his 
 promise long. Like a fire that may lie hidden for a time ere 
 it bursts into flame, the disorder spread until there was nothing 
 else talked about in the valley. 
 
 Farms were stripped of cattle and horses, and from the 
 animals it went to the people. It became an epidemic, a scourge, 
 
50 LINCOLN 
 
 and scarcely a house in the settlement was free of its dread 
 presence. There was no doctor within thirty-five miles, and 
 could one have heen had he would not have known what to do. 
 The malady baffled the skill of physicians for many years. 
 There was nothing that the afflicted people could use in the 
 way of remedies. Only careful nursing counted for anything. 
 
 From cabin to cabin went Nancy Lincoln, helping all she 
 could to take care of the sufferers. She had by nature the gift 
 of healing, and knew by heart all the simple remedies of the 
 backwoods. Her sympathy and loving kindness endeared her 
 to every one. And Thomas too did his part. He was the only 
 one in the settlement who knew how to saw logs into rough 
 planks, and make them into coffins. And there was frequent 
 need of his services. 
 
 The days passed ; days filled with nameless dread as the pes- 
 tilence swept the settlement. There is nothing that so saps the 
 courage as an unseen horror, and the people grew terrorized, 
 panic-stricken, at the ghastly presence in their midst. The val- 
 ley became a Valley of the Shadow. 
 
 So far as she could, Nancy kept the family life at the cabin 
 going on as usual. Abraham and Sarah performed her duties 
 when she was called to the bedside of a sufferer, and none 
 knew who would be stricken next. They were eating their 
 breakfast of corn-pone and bacon one morning when Dennis 
 Hanks, white and shaken, burst through the open doorway, so 
 choked with sobs that he could scarcely articulate. 
 
 "Oh, Cousin Nancy, come quick! Aunt Betsey and Uncle 
 Thomas is took bad. Come quick!" 
 
 Without a word both Thomas and Nancy rose, and hastened 
 at once to the half-faced camp where the Sparrows lived. As 
 Dennis had said "they were took bad." So severe was the at- 
 
THE NEW HOME 51 
 
 tack that they lived but a few days. At once Dennis became 
 an inmate of the large cabin where he was Abe's companion 
 for many years. 
 
 Nancy was so broken in her grief for her aunt and uncle, 
 her face became so pale, her eyes so pensive that a great fear 
 clutched Abe's heart. Once he caught Sally staring at her 
 mother with wide eyes, and he knew that she too was afraid. 
 Their fear was justified ; in a few days the mother was stricken. 
 
 Poor Nancy Lincoln! Pioneering is a hard life at best, but 
 it bears with especial severity on women. She had borne so 
 many hardships, and was so thin and frail that the plague 
 found her an easy victim. The fever did its work in a week. 
 
 The husband and children did all that they could for her. 
 Abe was untiring in his efforts. Nancy watched him tenderly 
 as he waited upon her. There had ever been loving intimacy 
 and sympathy between her and her children, and she had come 
 to know what a rich and rare nature her boy possessed. Once 
 as he bent over her she whispered : 
 
 "Read to me from the Bible, my son." 
 
 And the boy read the Psalms and the Promises she had so 
 loved. Read them over and over though his heart was near to 
 bursting in its grief. The end came quickly. He was on his 
 way back to the house from the spring with a bucket of water, 
 one morning, and Sally was at the woodpile gathering some 
 chips when their father came to the door, and beckoned to 
 them. 
 
 "Come, children," he said huskily, "if you want to see the 
 last of your mother." 
 
 Boy and girl hurried into the cabin, and went quickly to 
 the bedside of their mother. She rallied, smiled at them lov- 
 ingly, and said feebly : 
 
52 LINCOLN 
 
 "Be good to each other." 
 
 And then as Abraham, unable to control his sorrow fell 
 on his knees in sobbing anguish, she put out her hand and 
 touched his head gently. 
 
 "Be good to your father and to Sarah, my son. I want you 
 to live as I have taught you. Love your kindred, and worship 
 God." 
 
 And Nancy was dead. 
 
 All the last sad rites had to be performed by the members 
 of the heart-broken family themselves. The pestilence was pres- 
 ent in every cabin in the settlement, so the neighbors could not 
 help them. They dug the grave, and then Thomas made the 
 coffin with a whip-saw, while tear-blinded Abe, with shaking 
 fingers, whittled out the wooden pegs that were to hold the 
 boards together. When everything was ready they bore all 
 that was mortal of her to a knoll about half a mile from the 
 cabin. It was a beautiful spot; and there, in the midst of an- 
 cient oaks, and elms, and maples, they laid her to rest. 
 
 It was October. The foliage was just beginning to put on 
 the glory of the autumnal colorings. The sunlight was sifting 
 through the great canopy of leaves and boughs lending a touch 
 of Summer to the air laden with the wild fragrance of the last 
 flowers of the woods. All Nature was beautiful; but it seemed 
 to the grief-stricken lad that a pall of darkness covered the 
 earth. As Thomas and Dennis began to fill the grave he shook 
 as with ague. Every shovelful of dirt fell on his heart like the 
 stroke of a hammer. Sally came to him, and putting her arms 
 about him led him back to the cabin. 
 
-sJ 
 
 ?^T 
 
 CHAPTER FIVE 
 
 A NEW ORDER OF THINGS 
 
 The death of the mother had happened so suddenly that it 
 was hard for the bereaved family to adjust themselves to life 
 without her. The utter blankness of desolation settled upon 
 the cabin. A woman may be widowed, left with young chil- 
 dren, be breadwinner, and yet in spite of such handicaps be 
 able to make a home out of a house. A man under the same 
 conditions flounders helplessly. And so it was with Thomas 
 Lincoln and his children. "That which made a home of the bare 
 hut, a wife's devotion and a mother's love, was gone." 
 
 Sarah at once assumed the management of the house, and 
 with Abraham's help tried to fill the place of her mother. She 
 baked the corn-pone, fried the bacon, and cooked the game, but 
 she was only eleven years old, and there were many things 
 she could not do. Their utter poverty which Nancy had con- 
 trived to soften was now laid bare in all its naked ugliness, 
 and the cabin was a cheerless, lonely place. 
 
 Although they had lived in it more than a year Thomas had 
 not found time to finish it. There was yet no floor, no boards 
 
 53 
 
54 LINCOLN 
 
 for a door, and the crevices between the timbers were not 
 chinked. There was no protection from the driving rain or 
 the drifting snow. They had lived in this manner so long that 
 it did not seem to occur to him that he might make things more 
 comfortable by fixing up a bit that they might be less exposed 
 to the weather. And the winter came on. 
 
 One gleam of brightness came with it: the pestilence dis- 
 appeared. As mysteriously as it had come, it departed; and 
 life in the Valley took on something of the old order and peace. 
 
 February came, bringing with it a birthday for both boy and 
 girl; for Sarah had been born on the tenth day of the month, 
 1807, while Abraham was born on the twelfth day, 1809. The 
 shadows were deepening on Abraham's boyish face, and the 
 melancholy that was inherent in his nature was developing 
 under the severe experiences he was undergoing. It had cut 
 him to the heart that his mother should be laid to rest without 
 a funeral service being held over her grave, and he brooded 
 about it constantly. He and Sally were talking it over as they 
 sat in front of a blazing fire on the anniversary of his birth. 
 
 "It don't seem right," he said. "She ought to a had a ser- 
 mon." 
 
 "But there wasn't a preacher round, Abe," Sally reminded 
 him. "Nowheres round! You know there ain't no meeting- 
 house, an' of course there ain't no preacher." 
 
 "I know," answered the boy moodily. "But it don't seem as 
 if I could stand it lessen there's a sermon." He sat with his 
 elbows on his knees, his face in his hands, staring into the 
 flames and embers. 
 
 "Well, I'd like for her to have one too, Abe. So would pa; 
 but I don't know how we air going to git it." 
 
 Abe sat plunged in thought. All at once he sprang to his 
 
A NEW ORDER OF THINGS 55 
 
 feet. "I know, Sally," he cried. "I'll write to Parson Elkin, 
 an' see if he will come." 
 
 "But he's at Little Mound, Kaintuck, Abe. That's a long 
 ways from here." 
 
 "I know 'tis, but I believe that he'll come. And ma would 
 ruther have him than anybody. Pa an' Dennis won't be home 
 for a long time yit, so I'll write to him now." 
 
 "They won't be unless they have luck. They're after a big 
 buck that Den saw the tracks of two or three days ago. Though 
 pa did say that he'd be here before there was much shadder in 
 the woods." 
 
 Abe brought out pen, ink and paper, and sat himself down 
 to write his first letter. The pen was made from the quill of a 
 turkey buzzard ; the ink was made of blackberry briar root with 
 a little copperas mixed with it, and the paper was foolscap. 
 The Reverend David Elkin had been well acquainted with the 
 Lincolns in Kentucky, and when in the neighborhood of the 
 Knob Creek home had frequently passed the night with them. 
 Nancy and Thomas had always gone to hear him when he 
 preached at Little Mound Meeting-house, so that he was a 
 friend of the family. And now to him Abraham wrote a tear- 
 ful letter, asking that he would come and preach a sermon 
 above his mother's grave. 
 
 In a backwoods community where there were few, if any, 
 ministers, it was not always possible to hold a funeral service 
 at the time of death. Consequently, a custom had come into 
 vogue of holding such service, by way of memorial, within 
 the year following the death of the person. It was a great favor 
 that Little Abe was asking of the good man, as it meant a 
 journey of more than a hundred miles on horseback. But, bliss- 
 fully ignorant of all that the request involved, he sent his 
 
56 LINCOLN 
 
 letter by the first passer-by bound for Kentucky, and waited 
 as patiently as possible for the reply. 
 
 His faith in the Elder was justified. In due time he re- 
 ceived an answer to his letter, in which the minister promised 
 to come when his calls of duty led him near the Indiana line. 
 
 Early in the following summer the kindly man came to re- 
 deem his word. On a bright and sunny Sabbath morning, due 
 notice having been sent through all the vast region, men, 
 women, and children gathered from far and near to hear 
 Nancy Lincoln's funeral sermon preached. She was universally 
 respected and loved; her ministrations to sufferers during the 
 time of the plague having endeared her to every one. Now the 
 settlers grouped round the lonely grave, sitting on fallen trees, 
 stumps, and on bunches of grass, or on wagon tongues that 
 they might do her honor. 
 
 There could have been no more beautiful setting for such 
 an occasion than the forest — God's own temple. The giant 
 trees formed a cathedral in which Nature seemed to shed a 
 benediction: birds were singing, and the warm sunlight filled 
 the air. As the good preacher told of the virtues and the pa- 
 tiently borne sufferings of the departed mother, tears fell fast 
 from Abraham's eyes. They were no longer tears of bitter 
 grief, however, but those that eased his sad heart. He found 
 comfort in the presence of the settlers, in the hymns and 
 prayers, in the sermon, and above all in the fact that his loved 
 mother was committed to God's keeping with proper cere- 
 mony. 
 
 The daily tasks at the cabin went on as usual. Thomas 
 planted and sowed. He hunted and trapped, but, while the 
 skins were dressed and cured, Sally was unable to fashion 
 
A NEW ORDER OF THINGS 57 
 
 them into garments. She could make moccasins of a sort, but 
 the shirts and breeches were beyond her skill. Both children 
 were rapidly outgrowing their garments, as well as wearing 
 them out. Even among settlers who dressed, as the Indians 
 had before them, wholly in skins, the children were ragged, un- 
 kempt, and uncared for. It did not seem so much of a hard- 
 ship to do with scanty clothing through the warm weather, but 
 as the fall came on, and they faced the prospect of another 
 winter, the father roused himself. Something had to be done. 
 He became thoughtful, and sat much by the fire brooding over 
 the matter. There came a day when he called the boy and 
 girl to his side. 
 
 "I'm going back to Kaintuck for a spell," he told them. 
 "I don't know how long I'll be gone, but not more'n four 
 weeks. Thar's plenty of corn meal and bacon in the house, so 
 you won't starve; and Dennis can trap small game for fresh 
 meat. Thar's wood for the chopping, so you won't freeze. 
 Now good-bye! Be good children. Abe, you look sharp after 
 Sally." 
 
 "I will, pa," answered the boy; and the father took his de- 
 parture. 
 
 "Did he let on to you what he was goin' for?" asked Abe 
 of his sister. 
 
 "No, Abe." Sally looked troubled. "I do hope it ain't movin'. 
 You know he went off before we moved here." 
 
 "Well, I reckon I know what Uncle Thomas had on his 
 mind," chuckled Dennis Hanks who was now a young fel- 
 low of twenty. He had taken to calling Thomas uncle who 
 was really his cousin by marriage. 
 
 "Tell us, Den?" pleaded Abe. 
 
58 LINCOLN 
 
 ' 'Tain't for me to tell when Uncle Thomas didn't," he 
 replied. "But it ain't movin'. Not by a long shot!" and would 
 say no more, but his vague hints in the days that followed filled 
 the boy and girl with apprehension and expectation. 
 
 The weeks passed, and the wind and storms whistled through 
 the woods and blew drearily in through the open doorway and 
 crevices of the cabin. The rousing fire which was kept going 
 day and night was all that made the place endurable. 
 
 It had been November when the father left them. It was 
 on an afternoon in December when there came a great shout 
 from the edge of the clearing, and the young people ran out 
 of the cabin to see what it meant. It was Tom Lincoln's voice, 
 and it was Tom Lincoln himself who sat on the seat of a lum- 
 ber wagon drawn by four horses. There were other people in 
 the wagon with him, but so bundled up were they that the chil- 
 dren could not tell who they were. There was also property 
 of some kind. 
 
 There was a broad grin on the face of Dennis as the team 
 was driven into the clearing, and he saw that one of the per- 
 sons in the wagon was a woman. Thomas helped her carefully 
 from the wagon, and turned to his children with, 
 
 "Well, children, I've brought you a new mother. Come, 
 Sally! Come, Abe! Give her good welcome." 
 
 The boy and girl did not respond at once. It is a very try- 
 ing moment when a woman who is to take the place of a 
 mother meets the children of that mother for the first time in 
 the new relation. A trying moment for both the children and 
 the woman. So now the boy and the girl turned eager, earnest, 
 questioning eyes upon her who was to fill their mother's place. 
 It was Abe who, reassured by what he saw, moved towards her 
 shyly; and she, touched by something in his sad, serious, sensi- 
 
A NEW ORDER OF THINGS 59 
 
 tive face, opened her arms, and took him into a close embrace. 
 It was the beginning of an abiding affection between them. 
 And now Sally, crying with quick, sobbing relief, 
 
 "Oh, goody! it's Mis. Johnston!" flew to take Abe's place 
 in the new mother's arms. 
 
 She was no stranger to them. She had been a friend of their 
 mother, and was known to be good and kind. Her maiden name 
 was Bush, and it was said that Thomas Lincoln had courted 
 her before her first marriage, but had been rejected in favor 
 of his rival, Johnston. Her husband had died about the same 
 time that Nancy Lincoln did, and Tom had heard of it. He 
 took the trip to Elizabethtown, Kentucky, on a chance which 
 turned out happily. Seeing the joyous welcome accorded to his 
 bride Thomas now lifted two girls and a boy out of the lumber 
 wagon, and brought them over to where his wife and children 
 stood. 
 
 "And here's a new brother, an' two new sisters," he said. 
 "They air John, Sarah, and Matilda. I reckon they've grow'd 
 some since you seen 'em. You all won't be so lonesome now. 
 And here's your Uncle Ralph Krume too. He druv us here 
 with his bosses an' wagon. I reckon we'll all be glad to git 
 somethin' to eat." 
 
 The children were soon chattering together, while Thomas 
 led his tall, curly-haired bride into the cabin. Whatever may 
 have been her thoughts Sarah Bush Lincoln made no comment 
 as she glanced about the unfinished, bare room. Here were in- 
 deed the home and the farm that Thomas had told her about, 
 but facts, like people, may be dressed to hide infirmities; and 
 Thomas was a good romancer. He may or may not ever have 
 heard the old adage that "Everything is fair in love or war," 
 but he had made use of its precepts to get the woman he 
 
60 LINCOLN 
 
 wanted. Now, the woman accepted the situation, and rose to 
 the occasion. 
 
 "Before we eat, Tom," she remarked, "let's unload, and be- 
 gin to make things more comfortable." 
 
 "All right, Sairy," answered Thomas, a relieved expression 
 flitting across his face. 
 
 The contents of the wagon, which were now transferred to 
 the house, were a source of marvel to Abraham and Sarah. 
 They could only stare with wide, wondering eyes as Thomas, 
 Dennis, and Ralph Krume carried them into the house. Mrs. 
 Sarah Bush Lincoln was not rich in money, but she was pos- 
 sessed of a considerable amount of household goods. So much, 
 in fact, that Thomas had been obliged to hire his brother-in- 
 law, Ralph Krume, to bring his four-horse team to transport 
 them from Kentucky to the Indiana home. There was a table, 
 a set of real chairs, a chest of drawers, a bureau that was said 
 to have cost forty dollars, a large sum for the time, feather 
 beds and pillows, homespun blankets and quilts, a flax wheel, 
 soap and kettle, knives, forks, cooking utensils, and other ar- 
 ticles. Compared with the meagre furnishings of the cabin 
 they were of unparalleled magnificence. 
 
 That there was to be a new order of things was soon shown. 
 Mrs. Lincoln began her beneficent reign the very next morning 
 after her arrival, with a peremptory command : 
 
 "Dennis, tote one of your Uncle Tom's carpenter benches 
 outside, and set it by the hoss trough. Then you, John, and 
 Abe, fill the trough with water from the spring." 
 
 When this had been done she brought out two gourds, one 
 of soft soap, and the other — a smaller one — to dip water with, 
 and setting them on the bench, said : 
 
 "Now you boys wash up and git your hair combed for din- 
 
A NEW ORDER OF THINGS 61 
 
 ner. While you can't help gitting dirty about a farm it's a 
 mighty easy thing to wash the dirt off. I like clean boys." 
 
 When Abe, with face and hands that had been scoured un- 
 til they shone, his heavy dark hair slicked down as smooth as 
 water could plaster it, entered the cabin at noon, he noticed 
 at once that Sally had undergone a transformation also. For 
 her face was clean, and her rippling brown hair was combed 
 and hung in a neat braid down her back. The stepmother had 
 combed it herself, saying, 
 
 "Sally, your hair is too nice to let it git full of tangles like 
 this. It's much nicer than either Tilly's or Sarah's. If you'll 
 only keep it combed, and your face clean, you'll grow to be 
 as purty as your mother. An' Nancy Hanks was as purty a 
 gal as ever lived in Elizabethtown." 
 
 And thereafter, Sally was as neat and tidy about her per- 
 son as either of the Johnston girls. But this was not all. The 
 boy overheard his new mother talking with his father, and she 
 was saying: 
 
 "Now, Thomas, the first thing we need is a floor; and we 
 need it the worst way. It air the winter season; just the time 
 to do a little fixing about the house. You'd better get to work 
 chopping logs for puncheons for a floor this afternoon." 
 
 To Abraham's amazement his father consented meekly. 
 Mrs. Sarah Bush Lincoln was a thrifty, energetic woman of 
 thirty-one years, blooming and vigorous. She saw no reason 
 in leaving the house in its unfinished condition when a small 
 amount of labor would make it comfortable. Easy-going 
 Thomas Lincoln needed a spur, and Sally Bush was just the 
 woman for him. He began felling trees and transforming them 
 into puncheons that very day. When a log of wood is split 
 through lengthwise and the faces of the halves are trimmed 
 
C2 LINCOLN 
 
 fiat, the)' become puncheons, and in this shape are available 
 for many purposes. Not a great number would be required for 
 a floor, and Thomas was a good woodsman, so that only a few 
 days were needed for the cutting; the laying followed ex- 
 peditiously. 
 
 The wonder went further. After the floor was laid Mrs. 
 Lincoln had her husband to make a door that swung 
 on hinges; to cut places for windows, and cover them with 
 greased paper to let the light in. Every nook and corner of 
 the cabin, inside and out, was looked after and put into shape. 
 After all was done, and the new furniture was set in place, 
 there was a comfort and cosiness about it that never had been 
 there before. 
 
 There seemed no end to the marvels Mrs. Lincoln wrought. 
 She had brought a goodly supply of clothing for her own chil- 
 dren, and now she distributed it equally among the five and 
 Dennis Hanks. Abe and Sarah were warmly clad, and had 
 shoes and stockings. She had feather beds put in the loft to 
 take the place of the heap of leaves on which Dennis and Abe 
 had been sleeping, and with good blankets and skins the boys 
 were warm through the most bitter nights. 
 
 "Aunt Sarah sartainly has faculty," chuckled Dennis as 
 Mrs. Lincoln had Thomas build her a chicken house that 
 nothing could get into, and an ash hopper for lye. "You jest 
 natchully have to be somebody when she's around. Cracky! 
 but she's some punkins!" 
 
 "She's right," was Abe's brief comment. "Seems like every- 
 thing she does is to make things better. I'd do a heap for 
 mother." 
 
 He said the word tenderly. His whole heart had gone out 
 to this woman who had brought such happiness and comfort 
 
A NEW ORDER OF THINGS 63 
 
 to the household. There seemed to be a special harmony be- 
 tween them, and her slightest wish was his law. In the years 
 that followed he never gave her a cross word or look; nor she 
 him. To the end of his life he loved her dearly, and she returned 
 his affection. 
 
 The little cabin was crowded, but the family of eight dwelt 
 in peace in the one room. With three young girls and three 
 fun-loving boys it was no longer a place of gloom, but a home 
 ringing with happy voices. And Abraham's melancholy fell 
 from him for the time being, and he was the merriest among 
 them. 
 
 Life had taken an upward trend. 
 
CHAPTER SIX 
 
 ABRAHAM S WORLD EXPANDS 
 
 "I do declare, Abe, I don't know what I am going to do 
 with you," exclaimed Mrs. Lincoln one afternoon in the Fall 
 of the year as Abraham came into the cabin from the field 
 where he had been pulling fodder. It was two years after her 
 coming. 
 
 "What have I been doin\ mother?" questioned the boy seat- 
 ing himself by the fire. 
 
 "Why, you air just a growing out of everything," the good 
 woman told him in tones of exasperation. " 'Pears like I can't 
 keep anything to fit you. You air just shooting up like a weed." 
 
 "We'll have to git pa to put a board on my head to keep 
 me down," observed Abe, looking down at his long legs whim- 
 sically. "I don't know anything else to do." 
 
 The lad was growing at a tremendous rate. In his eleventh 
 year he had begun to shoot up until now, at twelve years of 
 age, he fairly overtopped his companions. It seemed as though 
 he would never stop. It was no wonder that his mother de- 
 spaired of keeping him in suitable clothing. 
 
 "I don't know anything else to do," he repeated. 
 
 "I don't believe that a cord of wood would hold you down," 
 
 G4 
 
ABRAHAM'S WORLD EXPANDS 65 
 
 remarked his mother. "There's them new buckskin breeches, 
 made just a month ago; and just look at 'em! Why! they don't 
 even cover your legs!" 
 
 Abraham laughed and glanced again at his legs where a 
 long length showed below the bottoms of his trousers to his 
 bare feet. He wore the regulation dress of the frontier: coon- 
 skin cap, buckskin breeches, doeskin shirt, although Mrs. Lin- 
 coln varied this latter garment with one of linsey-woolsey 
 whenever she could. 
 
 "But you see, mother, I git them wet in the fields of morn- 
 in's, and I've been caught in the rain a couple of times when 
 I've been choppin' in the woods. And buckskin will shrink 
 when it gits wet and dries in the sun." 
 
 "I know; but added to that you have grow'd two inches. 
 Well, I s'pose we can't do anything but stand it. Nothing'll 
 stop you until you get your growth. But I do wish you'd 
 broaden out a little, and fleshen up a bit, 'stead of going all 
 to top. You keep on, and you won't be able to get into the 
 new school house; you'll be so tall." 
 
 Abe straightened up. "Air we goin', mother?" 
 
 "Yes. Your father don't seem to take to the idea much, 
 but I don't want any of you children growing up without some 
 book laming. And I've a queer notion that it'll be the making 
 of you." 
 
 "Why, mother?" 
 
 "I don't know; but you're different someway. And I want 
 you to have schooling; all you can get. It won't harm the other 
 children to have it either; but you must." 
 
 Mrs. Lincoln had become very fond of Abraham. She had 
 found that he had ability and aptitude, and she had made up 
 her mind that the boy should take advantage of whatever 
 
66 LINCOLN 
 
 opportunity offered. His father had opposed the matter vigor- 
 ously, declaring that the expense of schooling was more than 
 they could afford. The tuition for six would bear rather heavily 
 upon him, but Mrs. Lincoln had her way, and the children were 
 to start as soon as the new school house was ready. Dennis 
 Hanks was included as a matter of course. He was a young 
 fellow, fully of age, but on the frontier young men, and young 
 women too, went to school whenever they could without regard 
 to years. 
 
 The settlement was now a growing one, and the farms were 
 no longer so far apart. To satisfy their first great need the 
 settlers had built a meeting-house over on Little Pigeon Creek, 
 a mile and a half from the Lincoln farm. They then decided 
 that the time had come for a school; so they felled trees, cut 
 the trunks into suitable lengths, notched the logs, and rolled 
 them into place, building the structure near the new meeting- 
 house. Having no glass, thin strips of wood were fastened 
 across the opening left for a window, on which greased paper 
 was pasted. There was a puncheon floor, and split logs roughly 
 leveled with an axe and set up on legs served for benches. 
 The roof was just high enough for a man to stand erect, and 
 Mrs. Lincoln's fear that Abe might soon be too tall to enter 
 was well founded. A Mr. Azel Dorsey had been employed as 
 teacher, and reading, writing, and arithmetic were to be 
 taught. 
 
 It was opening a door into a wider world for Abraham. He 
 "took to learning" amazedly, to use a local expression, and was 
 so eager in its acquisition that he quickly surpassed his com- 
 panions. It was the custom for a pupil to spell through the 
 speller many times before he began to read, and Master Dor- 
 sey demanded a faithful use of Webster's Elementary Spell- 
 
ABRAHAM'S WORLD EXPANDS 67 
 
 ing Book before a reader was put into children's hands. They 
 spelled in classes, and "trapped" up and down. These juvenile 
 contests were very exciting to the participants, and it was not 
 long before Abe could spell down all the other pupils in his 
 class. Master Dorsey was so pleased at his progress, which 
 spoke well for his ability as a teacher, that he at once ad- 
 vanced him to the reader. 
 
 Abraham's world was expanding also in the matter of new 
 acquaintances. The country was settling up, so that there were 
 nearly two dozen boys and girls in the school, and it was a 
 matter of but a few days for him to become acquainted with 
 them all. 
 
 A school is a miniature world in which boys must prove 
 themselves to establish a standing among their fellows. So 
 Abraham was tried in wrestling, throwing a weight, and in 
 fights, and was able to give a good account of himself. The 
 time was coming when he would be a champion in all these 
 sports, but even as young as he was he commanded respect for 
 his prowess. It was marvelous how his physical strength kept 
 pace with his growth in stature. 
 
 Attendance at school was irregular. Deep snows or thaws 
 would render walking impossible; there was corn to be shelled, 
 animals to be cared for, fuel to be provided, hunting and trap- 
 ping for meat and skins, much land to be cleared, so that be- 
 tween the weather and home duties not much time was left 
 to devote to the school. But Abraham made the most of his 
 opportunity. There were no books at home save the Bible, and 
 over this he pored until he knew the stories by heart. He 
 did not understand the urge that compelled him to study; he 
 only knew that he was possessed of a great desire to know — to 
 know. 
 
68 LINCOLN 
 
 With the coining of settled spring weather the school was 
 brought to a close that teacher and pupils alike might turn 
 their attention to the planting of corn and potatoes. With so 
 many helpers Thomas Lincoln saw no reason why every avail- 
 able acre should not be put into corn, and a great deal of land 
 had been cleared through the winter. So plowing and planting 
 meant much to the boys that year. But it was over at length, 
 and Abe sat on top of the fence, which surrounded the farm, 
 one noon waiting for dinner with a whole afternoon of leisure 
 before him. 
 
 It was a favorite perch of his, for a road had been laid out 
 through the wilderness from Corydon to Evansville which ran 
 past the farm, and often there were wayfarers with whom he 
 might talk. This quizzing of passers-by was a practice which 
 greatly annoyed his father who could not sympathize with the 
 inquiring mind of his son. Sometimes Thomas Lincoln pun- 
 ished him for it; at other times he sent him into the house. 
 
 It was an old-fashioned rail fence, and often chipmunks 
 played upon its rails, or nested in its corners. On this day Abe 
 had coaxed a fox squirrel from the woods on the other side 
 of the road to come up on the fence and eat some nuts from 
 his hand. As he sat delighting in its antics he heard wheels, 
 and glanced up to see a wagon, drawn by a team of oxen, com- 
 ing down the road. It was a tented, or covered, wagon, and 
 was moving slowly for the road was rough, and filled with ruts 
 and gullies. As Abe sat watching its approach, wondering who 
 the occupants were and where they were going, there came a 
 crash as the forewheel of the wagon on the side next to the 
 fence thumped down into a deep rut, and crumpled up under 
 the vehicle. 
 
 "What's the matter, William?" asked a pleasant voice, 
 
One of Lincoln's Favorite Perches Was on Top of an Old- 
 fashioned Rail Fence 
 
ABRAHAM'S WORLD EXPANDS 69 
 
 and a woman crawled out from under the top as the oxen 
 stopped short at a command from the driver. 
 
 "The wagon's broke down, Manda. We'll have to stop a 
 while until I can get it fixed. Come, girls!" 
 
 Two girls emerged from the wagon bed in obedience to the 
 call, and stood gazing disconsolately at the broken wheel. 
 One was slightly older than Abe; the other, some two years 
 younger, was the prettiest girl he had ever seen, the boy de- 
 cided instantly. Quickly he got down from the fence and ran 
 towards them. 
 
 "My father will help you fix the wagon, sir," he said. 
 
 The man turned to him with eagerness. 
 
 "Why, son, that would be fine. Where is your father?" 
 
 But at this moment Thomas himself, having heard the crash, 
 appeared on the scene. After him came Mrs. Lincoln. 
 
 "Howdy, stranger," said Thomas shaking the man's hand. 
 "What broke?" 
 
 "That fore wheel. You see it was an old wheel, and when 
 we plumped into that deep rut the whole weight of the wagon 
 was thrown on it, and, weakened by age, it just buckled under 
 it." 
 
 "Well, this is going to take quite a while to fix," reported 
 Thomas after an examination of the wagon. "But I reckon 
 we can manage it. I have a wheel that you can have, but it 'ud 
 be best to go over the hull wagon to strengthen it. 'Specially if 
 you're goin' far." 
 
 "We are bound for Illinois," answered the man. 
 
 "Illinois, eh? I've sometimes thought of goin' there myself. 
 I reckon it's a fine country from all I hear?" 
 
 "Now while the men are talking about the wagon you all 
 just come up to the house, and rest yourselves," said Mrs. 
 
70 LINCOLN 
 
 Lincoln to the woman. "It's hard riding all day. You must be 
 tired." 
 
 "It is wearying, and we'll be glad to rest awhile if it won't 
 be putting you out any?" the woman replied with quick ap- 
 preciation of the other's hospitality. 
 
 "It won't put me out a bit," responded Mrs. Lincoln. "Din- 
 ner's just ready, and a good hot meal, eaten at a table, will 
 do you good, and hearten you up. I know what camping is." 
 
 The whole party moved into the cabin. The Lincoln girls 
 immediately took possession of the new girls, and soon they 
 were chatting gaily. The boys hung about, interested but too 
 shy to take any part in the conversation. Dinner was soon 
 over, and Mr. Lincoln, the mover, and Dennis Hanks went 
 back to the road to repair the wagon. Such was the law of the 
 border: a stranger in trouble must be helped though the whole 
 work of the farm be stopped to do it. 
 
 After they had gone the younger girl ran to her mother, 
 crying: "Oh, mother! we've been telling these girls about the 
 stories that you've been reading to us, and they want to hear 
 them too. Will you read some of them?" 
 
 "Why, yes; if Mrs. Lincoln doesn't mind." 
 
 "Not a bit," answered Mrs. Lincoln. "It will be a treat for 
 the children." 
 
 "Well, get me a book, dear." 
 
 "I'll go with you," spoke Abraham eagerly as the little girl 
 started for the road. 
 
 "All right; I like you." Slipping her hand into his the two 
 sped down to the wagon. 
 
 As has been said, there had never been a book, save the 
 Bible, in the Lincoln cabin; but now, before his astonished 
 eyes, there were several books lying about the wagon bed. The 
 
ABRAHAM S WORLD EXPANDS 71 
 
 little girl chose two which she gave him to carry, and they 
 returned to the house. 
 
 He never forgot the afternoon that followed. Story after 
 story was read, and the boy sat enthralled. He had never heard 
 such stories, and dimly he glimpsed the fact that wide fields 
 of knowledge lay in books. 
 
 The repairs finished, the party moved on; and then, boy 
 fashion, Abe began to spin a romance of his own. He would 
 take his father's horse, follow the wagon, and persuade the 
 little girl to run away with him. And then he imagined that 
 he did so, and that she consented to go with him. They started 
 off across the prairies, but the horse would not go on, but 
 turned and came back to camp. Three times they tried to go, 
 and every time the horse brought them back. Then they de- 
 cided that they ought not to elope. But this was not to be the 
 end ; he would stay in the camp and work for her father until 
 he had won his consent to marry the girl. 
 
 It was a boy's dream, born of a thirst for romance, and 
 elemental as Adam. And along with the dream came an over- 
 whelming desire for books. 
 
 The fulfillment of this longing came about unexpectedly. 
 One of the settlers called one day with the request that Thomas 
 Lincoln should let him have one of the boys to help him with 
 his hoeing. It was the custom then that all earnings of a boy 
 were his father's until he was twenty-one. Thomas considered 
 the matter. It would mean money for him, and money was 
 scarce. In the end Abraham was sent with the man. It was 
 the beginning of his hiring out. 
 
 But there were compensations ; for the man had books. See- 
 ing the boy's interest in them he let him take one home with 
 him to read. The book was iEsop's Fables. By reason of his 
 
72 LINCOLN 
 
 retentive memory Abe was already reckoned the best story- 
 teller among his companions, and had a wide popularity on 
 account of it. There were many stories current in the neigh- 
 borhood — facts and fiction ; bits of history and wood-lore ; and 
 much humor of a rude sort; he knew them all. From iEsop he 
 learned many more, and, best of all, he learned the way to dress 
 a story so that there might be either a moral or a sharp point 
 at the end of it. 
 
 The Fables had to be returned in time, but not before Abra- 
 ham had read it over and over until he had made its contents 
 his own. Its place was taken by another story-teller of a very 
 different kind, and he made the marvelous pilgrimage of 
 Pilgrim's Progress with delight. John Bunyan's wonderful 
 book lifted him out of his surroundings and gave him a spirit- 
 ual outlook that he needed. 
 
 Other books turned up here and there. The news of his 
 thirst for knowledge went all over the settlement, and while 
 the people termed him "odd," "queer," and "peculiarsome," 
 they took a sort of pride in having such a boy among them, and 
 willingly loaned him books. Thomas Lincoln viewed the mat- 
 ter with exasperation. 
 
 "He's gittin' so he ain't wuth anything any more," he com- 
 plained to his wife. "He's always got his nose stuck in a book. 
 He don't take to farmin', he don't take to carpentry, he don't 
 take to nothin' but larnin'. I don't know what'll become of 
 him." 
 
 "Now, Thomas, don't worry," replied Mrs. Lincoln. "Abe 
 is a good boy. There ain't a better one nowheres round. He's 
 obedient, and works well at whatever you give him to do." 
 
 "Yes; he works with his head," growled Thomas. "He's 
 lazy. His head's full of nothin' but what he gits from a book." 
 
ABRAHAM'S WORLD EXPANDS 73 
 
 "Now that Abe's got a taste of reading he reminds me of the 
 old hog, Uncle Thomas," laughed Dennis Hanks. "We had to 
 pull the sow's ears to git her to the trough, and then pull her 
 tail to git her away." 
 
 "He's a good boy," reiterated Mrs. Lincoln. "And so long 
 as he don't neglect his work I don't see why he shouldn't be 
 let read. He might be in worse mischief." 
 
 So the good woman took up for him. Through her influence 
 he was permitted to read Sundays when there was no meet- 
 ing. It became the usual thing to see Abraham when he re- 
 turned from work get a piece of corn bread, take a book, and 
 sit down to read even while eating. He carried a book with 
 him to the fields, and whenever he had a chance would fling 
 himself flat on the ground and read. 
 
 It was fully two years after Master Dorsey's school before 
 another teacher came to the little log school house. Then came 
 Andrew Crawford, bringing with him many new ways. For 
 Master Crawford taught manners as well as reading, writing, 
 and arithmetic. One of the pupils was required to retire, and 
 then to re-enter the room as a polite gentleman is supposed to 
 enter a drawing-room. He was received at the door by another 
 pupil and conducted from bench to bench until he had been 
 introduced to all the young ladies and gentlemen in the room. 
 Abe went through the ordeal many times, but it tickled his 
 sense of humor, and he and the boys and girls got a lot of 
 fun out of it. Incidentally it majr be said that it was his only 
 training in the usages of polite society. 
 
 Master Crawford also made a point of spelling, indulging 
 in spelling matches, as his predecessor had done. As in the 
 former school Abe soon became the acknowledged leader in 
 the exercise. So much so that whichever side chose him was 
 
74 LINCOLN 
 
 always sure to win the match. As a consequence Mr. Crawford 
 frequently had matches from which he was excluded, sometimes 
 turning him out of doors lest he should give aid to the other 
 pupils. 
 
 One day such a class was in progress when the teacher gave 
 out the word "defied." Several spelled it d-e-f-y-e-d, and then 
 it came to Katy Roby who was a favorite with Abraham. She 
 began d-e-f, and was just about to say "y" when she glanced 
 at Abe who was watching her closely. He was smiling broadly, 
 and slyly pointed his finger to his eye. Quickly the girl took 
 the hint, and spelled the word correctly with an "i." And Mas- 
 ter Crawford never knew that Katy had had any assistance. 
 
 It was while going to this school that Abe composed many 
 rhymes and verses. One of his rhymes was as follows : 
 
 "Good boys who to their books apply 
 Will all be great men by and by." 
 
 He stood alone in trying to turn his writing lessons into 
 compositions. He took this up of his own accord, induced by a 
 passion for justice. In fact, two great passions — one for jus- 
 tice, the other for knowledge — were ever present and prevail- 
 ing throughout his whole life. 
 
 The woodland ponds were full of turtles which, as Spring 
 approached, awakened to life, and wandered about in the 
 balmy air. It was the habit of some of the boys to catch a ter- 
 rapin and put a live coal on its back, and then to laugh at the 
 animal's misery as it tried to reach its home in the water. It 
 was a cruel sport, and it aroused the boy's indignation. He 
 liked fun, but he had a tender heart, a horror of cruelty, and 
 could feel no pleasure in anything that would give pain to any 
 creature. So he remonstrated with the young savages, telling 
 
ABRAHAM'S WORLD EXPANDS 75 
 
 them that such an act was contemptible, cruel, and wicked. 
 One of the boys took exception to his "meddling," as he 
 called it. 
 
 "Ah, who air you?" he called to Abe jeeringly at one of 
 the recesses when the latter had tried to stop the fellows from 
 indulging in their favorite sport. "What right have you to 
 tell us what to do, and what we ought not to do? You ain't 
 the teacher." 
 
 Abe turned and looked at him. He was a lanky wiry fellow 
 older than himself, though not so tall. 
 
 "No," he replied in his slow way, "I ain't the teacher; but 
 I know that it ain't right to make animals suffer just because we 
 air stronger and can do it. It's downright wicked to put coals 
 of fire on their backs for fun. There ain't no fun in it, and no- 
 body but a coward would do it. You all ought to be ashamed of 
 yourselves." 
 
 The lad straightened up defiantly. 
 
 "Well, I'm going to treat a turtle, or any other animal, just 
 as I please, old Longshanks. And there ain't anybody going to 
 keep me from it. So what air you going to do about it?" 
 
 Just as he ceased speaking a turtle came crawling into the 
 clearing about the school, its head protruding from its shell, 
 and its tail moving to and fro. 
 
 With a whoop the boy seized it, swung it rapidly round and 
 round, then let it go. The poor creature fell just in front of 
 Abraham, crushed against a stone, and lay writhing in pain. 
 
 Abe's eyes flashed. In an instant he was at the fellow, 
 knocked him down, and pummeled him with vigorous blows. 
 The other boy fought like a tiger, and the two rolled over and 
 over on the ground. The ring of boys which had formed around 
 the combatants became silent as the fight became grim earnest. 
 
76 LINCOLN 
 
 They realized that the affair was more serious than an ordinary 
 wrestling match. 
 
 At length Abe succeeded in landing a blow that knocked the 
 breath out of the boy so that he lay still. 
 
 "Nuff," he gasped as soon as he could speak. And then as 
 Abe rose to his feet, he whimpered: "You've hurt my back." 
 
 "Serves you right," retorted Abe. "Maybe you'll know how 
 that turtle feels with a crushed back. Now, boys," turning to 
 the others, "I don't like to fight, as you know; but Bill needed 
 that licking the worst way. It was wicked to treat that poor 
 turtle as he did. Any boy that does that will have me to fight 
 every time. Just because we can do it is no reason for torturing 
 dumb creatures that can't help themselves." 
 
 Gradually the boys were brought round to his view, and the 
 practice ceased. After this he wrote short sentences on Cruelty 
 to Animals, and these grew until at length he came forward 
 with a regular composition on the subject. 
 
 And then his soul took fire to express himself by the writ- 
 ten word. But paper was scarce, and he could not afford to 
 waste any upon original compositions. Necessity has ever been 
 the mother of invention, and if paper could not be had there 
 was plenty of wood. So daytimes he wrote and ciphered on 
 shingles and boards out of doors, with a piece of charcoal for 
 a crayon. At night he used the great wooden fire shovel that 
 stood by the chimney. This was a broad clapboard with one end 
 narrowed to a handle, and its whole face could be covered with 
 figures and letters. When its surface was full it could be 
 shaved clean with his father's "drawing-knife." In this manner, 
 night after night, the boy studied by the light of the fire in a 
 determination to learn that was sublime. 
 
 His passion for knowledge grew by what it fed on. Robinson 
 
ABRAHAM'S WORLD EXPANDS 77 
 
 Crusoe was the next book borrowed, and this was followed by 
 a History of the United States. Then came Sinbad the Sailor. 
 He read every book that he could lay his hands on. Everything 
 was grist that came to his mill. When he came to a passage 
 that struck him he would write it down on boards, if he had no 
 paper, and keep it until he did get some paper. Then he would 
 copy it, look at it, commit it to memory, and repeat it. He 
 had a blank book, a scrap book, one of his treasures, in which 
 he put down things he wished to preserve. Some of these were 
 original essays, but it was mostly filled with extracts from the 
 books that he borrowed. 
 
 There were some books that could not be borrowed, and these 
 he read at the owner's fireside. And then there moved into the 
 neighborhood a man by the name of Josiah Crawford, no re- 
 lation of Andrew Crawford, the teacher. Josiah employed 
 Thomas Lincoln to finish his new house for him, and Abraham 
 helped his father. The old fellow had a number of books, and 
 Abe was delighted when he let him take home a copy of 
 Weems's "Life of Washington." 
 
 Of course he knew about George Washington. The History 
 of the United States had told him much, and the settlers were 
 full of stories about his life and character. Weems treated his 
 subject with enthusiasm and a great deal of very sincere pa- 
 triotism, and Abraham was enthralled with the book. He 
 pored over the volume with great earnestness, frequently tak- 
 ing it to bed with him at night, and placing it between the logs 
 of the cabin so that he could get it as soon as there was light 
 enough to read by. But alas ! there came a night of storm, and 
 the wind drove the rain through the cracks between the logs, 
 made by the falling out of the mud chinking. In the morning, 
 to the boy's dismay, he found the precious volume was soaked 
 
78 LINCOLN 
 
 through and through. He dried the leaves carefully in the 
 sun, and then carried the book home. 
 
 "Mr. Crawford," he began falteringly. "I'm sorry, but I 
 reckon I've ruined this book." 
 
 "How did it come, Abraham?" demanded the crusty old 
 fellow taking the book, and examining it thoroughly. 
 
 Abraham told him. 
 
 '' 'Pears like if I'm good enough to let you have my books 
 you ought to take care of them. Yes; I reckon the book's 
 ruined, and I don't know where I'll come by another. Such 
 books are hard to get. You ought to pay for it." 
 
 "But I have no money," confessed poor Abe who had never 
 owned a penny in his life. 
 
 "How about working it out?" suggested Josiah. 
 
 Abraham brightened up. "Why, I'd be glad to do that, Mr. 
 Crawford. What would you like me to do ?" 
 
 "Well, that book's worth seventy-five cents, Abe. Now I'll 
 tell ye what I'll do: I have a field of fodder that needs pulling. 
 You come and pull fodder for me for three days, and I'll call 
 it square." 
 
 Now Abe wanted to pay for the book. He knew that it was 
 right that he should do so, but a day's work extended from 
 sunrise to sunset, and three days of such labor was a high price 
 to demand of a boy. There was no help for it, however, so he 
 pulled fodder three days; and he pulled the field clean. Not a 
 stalk of fodder was left standing in the field. His sense of 
 honor made him do his work well, but his sense of justice was 
 outraged. He knew that Crawford had taken advantage of the 
 fact that he could not help himself. 
 
 But there was one compensating fact. He became the owner 
 of the book. 
 
CHAPTER SEVEN 
 
 THE END OF SCHOOL DAYS 
 
 The incident of the ruined volume of "Life of Washing- 
 ton" did not deter Abraham from borrowing other books. 
 Indeed, so great was his hunger for them, he could no more 
 have kept from borrowing them than he could help living. 
 His mind was awake and craved intellectual food. Books were 
 scarce in southern Indiana; there was no way to get them ex- 
 cept by borrowing. And borrow he did, right and left, even 
 from old Josiah Crawford himself. So relentless was he in 
 his search for knowledge that he would walk many miles to 
 get a book of which he had heard. In this manner, as time went 
 by, he read every book within a circle of fifty miles. 
 
 "Whatever do you find in 'em, Abe?" queried Dennis Hanks 
 joining the lad one evening as he sat on the doorstep reading 
 in the twilight. 
 
 Abe looked up, and, keeping his finger inside to mark his 
 place, closed the book, and thought a moment before answer- 
 ing. 
 
 "Well, Den, I find out about things," he said at length. 
 "Now take this here book. It's a dictionary; that's a book about 
 words. It tells what they mean. It always did make me mad to 
 
 79 
 
80 LINCOLN 
 
 hear folks use words that I didn't know what they meant. Even 
 when I was a little shaver whenever I'd hear folks talk about 
 something I didn't understand I'd puzzle over it, and puzzle 
 over it. I'd walk the floor until I found out what they meant. 
 Then I'd try to put it into words a boy could understand. I'm 
 studying this book so I'll know words." 
 
 "Shucks!" said Dennis taking the volume and turning its 
 leaves awkwardly. "This don't larn you nothin', Abe. Why, 
 there's jest strings of words up and down the pages! They 
 don't larn you anything about plowin' a furrow, or plantin', 
 or hoein'. Them's the things you ought to be larnin' about." 
 
 "I know 'em already, Den. And I git plenty of practice in 
 'em too. But I want to know something besides. I want to 
 find out what makes men great." 
 
 "There's somethin' mighty peculiarsome about you, Abe," 
 remarked Dennis shaking his head. "What you want to set, 
 day after day, a-readin' that stuff for till the last bit of light 
 goes outen the sky, is more'n I can see. But every feller to 
 his taste, as the old woman said when she kissed the cow. So 
 here's your book. Say! there's goin' to be a frolic down to 
 Grigsby's tomorrow night, an' we want you to go along. Will 
 you?" 
 
 "Why, of course," answered Abe quickly. He loved fun, and 
 anything that called the great sociability of his nature into play 
 was always welcome. For this reason he liked going to the mill. 
 He could meet with new people there and get fresh news and 
 fresh views of men and things in general. "Who's going?" 
 
 "All us young folks. Uncle Thomas said that we could have 
 the wagon and hosses to go if we got the hay all in tomorrow. 
 Jack Johnston and me asked him. And say!" with some em- 
 barrassment, "couldn't you drive, and kinda see that Jack, an' 
 
THE END OF SCHOOL DAYS 81 
 
 Tilly, an' your sister Sally'll leave the back seat for me an' 
 Sairy Johnston to set on?" 
 
 "I'll see to it, Den," laughed Abraham. "It looks mighty 
 like we was going to have a wedding in the fambly soon." 
 
 "It's goin' to be if I can make it so," answered Dennis, seri- 
 ously. "I ain't said nothin' yet, but I'm goin' to soon. But 
 talkin' of weddin's ! There's goin' to be one in the fambly soon, 
 all right." 
 
 "Whose?" asked the boy idly. 
 
 "Why, your sister Sally's, of course. Hain't you noticed 
 how Aaron Grigs by 's a-shin'in up to her? Good land, boy! any- 
 body with half an eye could see what he's up to." 
 
 Abraham sat up very straight. "Sally? My sister Sally," he 
 gasped. 
 
 "Yes ; your sister Sally," mocked Dennis with a great laugh. 
 "If you didn't have your head stuck inside a book all the time 
 you'd have seen it too. Jest keep your eyes open at the frolic 
 tomorrow night." 
 
 He laughed again as he went into the house. Abraham read 
 no more. The long shadows of evening gathered under the 
 great trees which pushed their trunks in stately columns heav- 
 enward. The twilight faded. The stars came out. A whip-poor- 
 will sounded his plaintive notes in a near-by tree, and never 
 had they seemed so mournful. A stillness brooded over the 
 cabin as the family retired to rest. Still the boy sat thinking. 
 His father's voice aroused him: 
 
 "Abe, go to bed. You've got to git up airly tomorrow if ye 
 git all the hay in." 
 
 Always obedient to his father's command Abraham rose 
 slowly, went into the cabin, and quietly climbed the pegs in the 
 corner to his loft. 
 
82 LINCOLN 
 
 It had been a hard day in the fields, but he lay wide awake 
 far into the night. Sally! his sister Sally to marry! They had 
 always been very close to each other, and now to lose her! He 
 knew that she was a great favorite in the settlement; she was 
 so kind, and modest, and had such a pleasant way about her. 
 She was industrious too, a thing that counted greatly in a rural 
 community. Overwhelmed by a sense of coming loss, the sensi- 
 tive boy lay, brooding. Suddenly a consoling thought came to 
 him. Dennis was an old gossip who always was sure that every 
 boy and girl who went together a few times were going to get 
 married. He was sure that Sally would have told him had there 
 been anything to the matter. And thus comforting himself the 
 lad fell asleep. 
 
 Nevertheless he kept his eyes open at the frolic the next 
 evening, as Dennis had told him to do. All through the games, 
 "Happy Is the Miller When the Mill Goes Round," "Thus 
 the Farmer Sows His Seed," "Sail Around," and "Skip-to-my- 
 Lou," he watched Sally and Aaron Grigsby. What he saw 
 convinced him that Dennis had spoken the truth. The boy had a 
 bad quarter of an hour when he realized the fact, but his un- 
 selfishness came to the surface as he saw Sally's bright face, 
 and noted her happy manner. Like himself Sally had had a 
 hard life. She too had worked out among the neighbors, and 
 toiled at home. Aaron Grigsby belonged to a well-to-do family. 
 Perhaps after all it would be best for Sally. And having come 
 to this conclusion Abraham shook off his melancholy, and be- 
 came the gayest of the gay. 
 
 There was little opportunity for courtship for Sally, how- 
 ever, or any one else in the busy days that followed. Mr. Josiah 
 Crawford, who was a wheelwright, making not only wagon 
 wheels but big and little spinning wheels, frequently needed 
 
THE END OF SCHOOL DAYS 83 
 
 help about his farm work. He came one day to the Lincoln 
 farm, saying that both he and his wife were in need of labor. 
 Would Mr. Lincoln let him have Sally and Abraham to help 
 them out? Thomas Lincoln was always willing to let his son 
 and daughter hire out to the neighbors, and welcomed the 
 money they could earn by so doing. So brother and sister went 
 to the Crawford place, the one as hired man; the other as 
 maid-of -all-work. 
 
 Abe was to be paid twenty-five cents a day for his work, but 
 his crabbed employer often docked these small wages if he 
 caught him idling a few moments from steady work. As has 
 already been said, Mr. Crawford possessed a number of books, 
 and the boy was willing to endure almost anything in order 
 to read. According to his usual custom, therefore, he read these 
 books through time and again. 
 
 One of the books was "The Kentucky Preceptor," a book 
 containing selections of poetry and prose filled with lofty 
 sentiments. There were orations on patriotism, articles on the 
 virtues, stories of great deeds of men, tales of sacrifices for 
 freedom, of hatred of tyrants, and of contempt for mean ac- 
 tions. Strong food for a young mind, well calculated to stimu- 
 late the faculties to solemn and elevated thinking. 
 
 Abraham had cultivated his memory to retain page after 
 page of prose and verse; so now he memorized the selections 
 that pleased him. He learned too from this book the art of 
 making rhymes, and wrote many thereafter. In fact, so pro- 
 ficient did he become that he made quite a local reputation for 
 himself as a rhymester. 
 
 "Do ye keep yer thinking-cap in your lip, Abraham?" ban- 
 tered Mr. Crawford one evening as the lad lay on the floor 
 reading. 
 
84 LINCOLN 
 
 The boy put his hand to his mouth sheepishly. He had fallen 
 into the habit of sticking out his lower lip, on the left side, when 
 his mind was concentrated in reading or thinking. A habit 
 which resulted in that "protuberance of the lower lip which be- 
 came a distinguishing characteristic of his face" in later life. 
 
 "Does it stick out much, Uncle Josiah?" he asked. He had 
 grown to call his employer so. 
 
 Josiah Crawford laughed. 
 
 "Well, yes; it does, Abe. But if it helps you to think, I don't 
 reckon it matters." 
 
 Abraham had become a great favorite with both Mr. and 
 Mrs. Crawford. The latter was wont to remark that he was 
 a well-mannered lad who always lifted his hat and bowed when 
 he made his appearance, and that he never came where he was 
 not wanted. But in spite of her liking for him he sometimes 
 worried the good woman almost beyond endurance by the fun 
 and uproar he created in her kitchen. 
 
 "Abe Lincoln, what on earth is ever going to become of 
 you?" she exclaimed on one such occasion. "What'll you be 
 good for if you keep a cutting up like this?" 
 
 Abraham gazed at her thoughtfully for a moment. 
 
 "Well," he responded slowly, "I reckon I'm going to be 
 President one of these days." 
 
 The good woman laughed loudly as the extravagant expres- 
 sion fell from the boy's lips. 
 
 "You're about as likely to be President as I am," she re- 
 torted. "Go on! you're upsetting everything with your fun." 
 
 "I reckon I'd better," laughed Abraham making for the 
 door. "This won't buy the child a coat." 
 
 There were other occasions when there came expressions 
 from his lips which seemed to indicate that he felt that there 
 
THE END OF SCHOOL DAYS 85 
 
 was a great work for him to do somewhere in the future. It is 
 certain that he was filled with vague haunting aspirations after 
 something better and larger than he had known. And too he 
 had the early American ideal that if a boy is upright and in- 
 dustrious he may aspire to any place within the gift of the 
 country. 
 
 Sally's term of service with the Crawfords terminated before 
 Abraham's, but at length he too went back to the cabin. As the 
 Crawfords were considered well-to-do people the boys and 
 girls of the Lincoln household were curious as to how they lived. 
 Matilda Johnston was especially so. 
 
 "What do they have to eat, Abe?" she questioned one day. 
 "I s'pose you had a Sunday dinner every day?" 
 
 "Well, no," answered Abe laughing. "Most of the time it 
 was corn-pone and common doin's, jest like we have. When 
 there was company we had white bread and chicken fixin's." 
 
 When the days grew shorter and the night frosts began to 
 give tone to the atmosphere there was much bustle and stir in 
 the cabin. There came a day when a large company gathered to 
 see Sally Lincoln married to Aaron Grigsby. In a backwoods 
 community a wedding or a funeral is a great event; so it was 
 a merry occasion; the merriest the Lincoln cabin had ever 
 known. Abraham smothered his feelings, and composed a poem 
 in honor of the event which the family fitted to a tune and 
 sang. Sally went to live with her husband in a house that was 
 not so far away but that Abe could visit her often, and he 
 found consolation for his grief at her departure in that fact. 
 Life had taught Abraham many hard lessons: he learned now 
 that a marriage may bring a loss as great as that brought by 
 Death. 
 
 It seems a truism that one wedding makes many. Sally's 
 
86 LINCOLN 
 
 marriage was quickly followed by that of Dennis Hanks and 
 Sarah Johnston, Mrs. Lincoln's older daughter. They removed 
 to a cabin near the village of Gentryville which had sprung into 
 existence at the crossroads near the meeting-house. Sometime 
 later, to anticipate a little, Matilda Johnston was married to 
 Levi Hall. 
 
 The cabin had been so filled with merriment when all the 
 young people were there that a sort of blank desolation came 
 over Abraham at its emptiness. His stepmother noticed his 
 melancholy and sought for something to alleviate it. She came 
 home from a visit to Tilly's one day with great news. She 
 could hardly wait to tell it. 
 
 "Abe," she cried as her stepson came to help her dismount 
 from her horse, "Mr. Swazey is going to set up' a school at his 
 house the other side of the village. It starts next week." 
 
 "Mother, do you think that I'll be able to go?" he asked 
 eagerly. 
 
 "I want that you should for several reasons. I'll have to talk 
 to your father about it though. But it's four and a half miles 
 to Mr. Swazey's house! That'll mean nine miles to walk to and 
 from school." 
 
 "Shucks! what's nine miles to a feller with long legs like 
 mine, mother? I wouldn't mind the walk at all; if only pa will 
 let me go." 
 
 Thomas Lincoln demurred as usual, but his wife was insist- 
 ent. She had seen how animated Abraham had become at the 
 prospect, and she determined that he should go. 
 
 "There's only the two now, Thomas," she pleaded. "John 
 and Abe. We can manage it someway." 
 
 As usual she had her way. Knowing that this was probably 
 his last school Abraham made the most of his opportunity. He 
 
THE END OF SCHOOL DAYS 87 
 
 rose early and attended to the chores before starting. Despite 
 the distance he was always there before any one else, using the 
 time of waiting for study. As in the schools under Masters 
 Dorsey and Crawford he soon surpassed his fellows, and was 
 considered the prize pupil by his teacher. 
 
 He wrote a neat, legible hand which excited the admiration 
 of other and younger boys so that they had him frequently to 
 set copies for them. Indeed, he was considered the best pen- 
 man in the settlement. 
 
 He was quick at figures too, and able to solve any problem 
 not going beyond the "Rule of Three." There was but one 
 arithmetic in the school — the one owned by the teacher — so 
 Abraham made one for himself from foolscap paper which he 
 called "Book of Examples in Arithmetic." In it he entered a 
 definition of "Discount, Rules for its Computation; Proofs and 
 Various Examples, worked out in figures. A Table of Weights 
 and Measures, and sums to be worked in Illustration." And 
 on one of the fly-leaves he scrawled these four lines of school- 
 boy doggerel: 
 
 "Abraham Lincoln, 
 His hand and pen, 
 He will be good, 
 But God knows when." 
 
 Such a leader had he become among his fellows that he was 
 always chosen to adjust difficulties between boys of his age 
 and size, and so well known was his fairness, his passion for 
 justice, that when appealed to his decision was the end of the 
 trouble. 
 
 In this school he learned the first principles of debating. 
 The born orator that was in him was coming to the surface 
 
88 LINCOLN 
 
 and fed on the material at hand. When at church he noted the 
 oddities of the preachers and afterward mimicked them, both 
 from a love of fun and because of his fondness for oratory, and 
 this was the only kind of oratory he knew anything about. So 
 now, as the pupils discussed the Relative Merits of the Bee and 
 the Ant — The Difference in Strength between Wind and Wa- 
 ter — and the important question — Which has the most right 
 to complain, the Indian or the Negro? — the boy entered into 
 the discussions enthusiastically. 
 
 In the midst of the term his father became restive under 
 Abe's attendance. He regarded it as a waste of time for his 
 tall son to walk nine miles a day to and from school in search 
 of knowledge, and took him out forthwith. 
 
 "You've had schooling enough, Abe," he said. "They say 
 in the village that you can read, write, and cipher. That's 
 larnin' enough for anybody. They say you're smart; but it 
 looks powerfully like laziness to me for a strong, husky lad 
 like you to set all day long with a book in his hand. I want you 
 to settle down now, and be a carpenter. When you are not 
 workin' at that you can aim something at the farms hereabouts. 
 But no more school. I don't care how much your mother teases." 
 
 So, much to his distress, poor Abe's schooldays came to an 
 end. All in all his total schooling amounted to much less than 
 a year. But Abraham Lincoln was doing for himself more 
 than schools could do for him. For what, after all, is education ? 
 "It is determined by what a student does. A single subject 
 which has been pursued in such a way that he has learned to 
 stand on his own feet, and use his own mind in the getting and 
 solving of its problems provides a more real education than a 
 whole college course in which one has merely endeavored to 
 appropriate the thoughts of other men, or tried to become a 
 
THE END OF SCHOOL DAYS 89 
 
 thinker without thinking about anything which seemed to re- 
 quire thought." 1 
 
 And Abraham Lincoln had made everything he studied or 
 read his own, a part of himself. Whenever he began to study 
 anything he was not satisfied until he got to the bottom of it. 
 He went to the roots of things. As the food that he ate was 
 assimilated into muscle, so the books he read were assimilated 
 into mind. 
 
 Much as he disliked to leave school he made no protest. He 
 knew that the family was miserably poor and needed what he 
 could earn; so he helped his father whenever he had work at 
 carpentry, or went as hired man from farm to farm, when he 
 was not needed at home, and all unconsciously prepared him- 
 self for the great work that lay in the future. For his life was 
 giving him three things: a strong physique, the habit of hard 
 work, and a knowledge of people — for one can become better 
 acquainted with men and women by working for them, or dick- 
 ering about labor, than by meeting them at social functions, 
 Where others might have yielded to despair he found hope; 
 where others might have grown cynical and bitter towards their 
 kind, he grew kind and loving of heart; where others might 
 have degenerated into passivity, he became strong, and brave, 
 and resolute. It was marvelous how the lad rose above the 
 obstacles that beset him, and created his own atmosphere. 
 
 His heart was not in carpentry or farm labor, but his sturdy 
 self-respect made him want to give value received for his 
 wages, and as he could chop more wood, handle more hay, husk 
 more corn, and lift a heavier weight than any other young 
 fellow in the settlement his services were always in demand. 
 On the whole Abraham preferred to work away from home on 
 
 i Dr. F. C. Moore, formerly Professor of Education in Harvard University. 
 
90 LINCOLN 
 
 account of meeting new people, and hearing the things they 
 could tell him. Therefore, he was well pleased when his father 
 told him one day in the fall of the year that he was seventeen 
 that he had found a job for him at the Landing. 
 
 "It's with Jim Taylor at Posey's Landing, Abe. You're to 
 git eight dollars a month and keep for running the Ferry across 
 the river, and doin' whatever he wants done about the house 
 and farm. I call it pretty good." 
 
 "But how long is he to stay, Thomas?" questioned Mrs. Lin- 
 coln. "It seems to me that we have Abe with us less and less 
 all the time. I miss him." 
 
 "It ain't no time for feelings, Sairy, when a seventeen-year- 
 old boy can airn eight dollars a month and keep. He'll only be 
 gone until spring anyway. Then he'll come back for the 
 plowin'." 
 
 "But that's a long time," protested she. "I should think 
 there'd be work enough at home. He's too young to be away 
 so much." 
 
 "Every tub has to larn to set on its own bottom," was 
 Mr. Lincoln's dry comment. "It'll do the boy good, and be- 
 sides, Jack Johnston and John Hanks can take care of the 
 work here until spring. It don't need so many since I sold off 
 that southwest eighty." 
 
 John Hanks was another cousin who had recently come from 
 Kentucky to stay with the Lincolns for a time. He was a 
 steadier, more industrious man than Dennis, so that Abraham 
 could well be spared. Mrs. Lincoln ventured one last protest: 
 
 "He livens up the place so that I don't know what I'll do 
 without him." 
 
 "Never mind, mother," comforted Abe seeing the tears in 
 
THE END OF SCHOOL DAYS 91 
 
 her eyes. "The time will soon pass, and there may be days 
 when I can come home for a few hours." 
 
 The next morning the boy walked the sixteen miles to Po- 
 sey's Landing to enter upon his new duties. 
 
CHAPTER EIGHT 
 
 A GLIMPSE OF THE GREAT WORLD 
 
 Abraham had been to Posey's Landing many times since 
 he had entered Indiana with his parents and sister ten years 
 previously, but now that he was going to reside in the place 
 for several months, he gazed about him with sharpened inter- 
 est. 
 
 It was a busy place, one at which the steamers and river 
 craft frequently tied up for the night. Consequently quite a 
 settlement had sprung up on the wide flat at the mouth of 
 Anderson's Creek. There were trading houses, quite a few 
 dwellings, a tavern, and a large wood-yard where the river 
 steamers took on fuel. With all sorts of people coming and go- 
 ing it was a bustling spot. 
 
 Among the merchants was James Taylor for whom Abra- 
 ham was to work. He operated a "bank-store," which, located 
 on the river bank, supplied both the river trade and that of the 
 farmers. 
 
 Abraham was not to assist in the store, however. That task 
 devolved upon Green Taylor, Mr. Taylor's son, a youth about 
 Abraham's age. Abraham was to run the ferry across An- 
 derson's Creek in addition to being the man-of-all-work about 
 
 92 
 
A GLIMPSE OF THE GREAT WORLD 93 
 
 the house and farm. It was Green Taylor who met him as he 
 entered the house. 
 
 "Come on up stairs, and put up your things," said the lad, 
 leading the way. Abraham's few belongings were carried in a 
 bundle. "You are to sleep in the room with me." 
 
 To Abraham's delight there were a number of books on 
 some shelves in the sitting room, and, as he believed that a 
 book was made for the purpose of being read, he turned ea- 
 gerly to speak about them to his companion. To his surprise 
 the other boy, who had been looking him over keenly, broke 
 out with, 
 
 "Want to fight?" 
 
 "If it's needful," responded Abe dryly, eyeing him out of 
 the tail of his eye. "I've come to do whatever I'm told." 
 
 "I don't believe that you could lick me," spoke young Tay- 
 lor in a challenging tone. He had heard of Abraham's prowess 
 in bouts, and was itching for a trial of strength with him. 
 "They say you can whip anybody in the whole countryside. 
 Have you licked many?" 
 
 "Well, I've locked horns with a few who got their come- 
 uppance," answered Abraham briefly. 
 
 "Then what do you say we go back of the store, and see 
 which is the better man?" proposed Green. A voice from the 
 door interrupted him. 
 
 "Tut, tut! what's all this? I won't have any fighting, Green. 
 Abe's come here to work, and you'll do well to get back to that 
 store and 'tend to business. Howdy, Abe! Glad to see you," 
 and James Taylor entered the room, with outstretched hand. 
 "I'm powerful busy, so I'll just show you about the Ferry the 
 first thing. And say! I want some hogs butchered today to 
 be ready to ship tomorrow. Ever kill any?" 
 
94 LINCOLN 
 
 "No, Mr. Taylor; but I'm like the Irishman with the fiddle. 
 When asked if he had ever played one, he said: 'No; but if 
 you'll risk your fiddle, I'll try it.' So, if you're willing to risk 
 your hogs I'll tackle the job." 
 
 "I reckon we'll let it go that way, Abe," said Mr. Taylor 
 laughing. 
 
 Late that afternoon as Abraham caught up the two hundred 
 pound carcass of a hog, and easily lifted it to a hook higher 
 than his head, he found Green Taylor watching him in open- 
 mouthed amazement. 
 
 "Want to fight?" he asked with twinkling eyes. 
 
 "No," answered young Taylor emphatically. "I don't. Why, 
 you could wipe up the earth with me. Jiminy Cricketts! but 
 you're strong!" 
 
 Abe soon found that there was plenty for him to do, and 
 that of the roughest sort of work a young fellow could be made 
 to do. And there was the ferry. The skill that it took to scull 
 across the Creek depended upon the condition of the river. 
 The Creek itself flowed down to the Ohio River between high 
 banks, and if the water was high it was no small feat to make a 
 good landing. 
 
 But if there was much work there were compensations. First, 
 there were the books. These he read, according to his usual 
 custom, over and over, reading sometimes far into the night. 
 Among them were the Lives of Benjamin Franklin and Henry 
 Clay. The latter became an idol of his forthwith. 
 
 And then there was the life of the river: the contact with 
 people of all sorts who were constantly passing up and down 
 stream, and the new ideas he picked up from them. He liked it 
 all, and there grew in him a longing to see for himself the 
 places about which these people told him. 
 
A GLIMPSE OF THE GREAT WORLD 95 
 
 Nature had played no small part in the moulding of Abra- 
 ham. The strength of the Kentucky hills had entered into him 
 in childhood. The vast wilderness of Indiana had taught him 
 its mysteries. Now a majestic river was to take part in his de- 
 velopment. He learned to know it in all its moods and phases. 
 He saw it by moonlight and starshine; in sunshine and in 
 shadow, and he learned to know why it had been called Ohio — 
 "The Beautiful," by the Indians, the French and the English. 
 And ever it called to him alluringly, telling him of the great 
 Mississippi, of cities on its banks, and of a different people to 
 the Southward. 
 
 When Spring came, and he had to return to his father's 
 farm, he carried back a great idea: why couldn't they raise 
 enough produce at the farm for him to build a boat, and take 
 it down to New Orleans to sell? 
 
 "It ain't a bad idee," was his father's comment. "I'll mull it 
 over for a while." 
 
 "But I won't have it," protested Mrs. Lincoln, vehemently. 
 "It's a long way to New Orleans. Abraham has had only the 
 experience at the landing with boats, and 'twould be dangerous 
 for him to make such a long trip alone. There's no telling what 
 might happen." 
 
 "The boy's dependable enough, Sairy," said Mr. Lincoln. 
 "The worst feature of the hull thing is the gittin' back. We 
 ain't got the money to pay your passage back on one of the 
 river boats, Abe, so you'd have to walk. Even if you could 
 sell the boat there wouldn't be more'n enough to pay your way 
 back, and there'd be no profit. I went down myself oncet, and 
 walked back to Kaintuck. 'Twas all of eighteen hundred mile, 
 and it warn't no joke. It would take you all of three months. 
 I'll have to mull it over." 
 
96 LINCOLN 
 
 "Maybe I could work my way back on one of the boats," 
 suggested the youth hopefully. He wanted so much to see the 
 great world for himself. 
 
 "Mebbe so, mebbe so," assented his father. "Well, I'll see 
 about it." 
 
 Several days were passed discussing the matter, but in the 
 end Abraham's wishes prevailed, and he set to work enthusias- 
 tically to raise the produce necessary to stock a boat. John 
 Hanks had gone to Illinois, and there were only his father, 
 John Johnston, and himself to attend to the work on the farm. 
 And Thomas Lincoln was more and more inclined to shift his 
 share to the shoulders of his son and stepson. So it was largely 
 by Abraham's own efforts that the produce was raised. 
 
 It was ready at length, and in the Fall of 1827, Abraham 
 went down to the Landing and built himself a small flat- 
 bottomed boat. It was large enough to take a barrel or two of 
 things they had raised, with his bundle and himself to the 
 Southern market. 
 
 One bright morning, as he stood looking at his boat, wonder- 
 ing whether there was anything he could do to improve it in 
 any way, a carriage drove down to the shore and two men got 
 out. The strangers went along the banks looking at the boats. 
 They singled out Abraham's, and stopped by his side. 
 
 "Who owns this boat?" asked one of them. 
 
 "I do," the youth told them modestly. 
 
 "Will you take us and our trunks out to the steamer?" 
 
 "Certainly," said Abraham courteously, glad of the chance 
 to make a little money. 
 
 A steamer was coming down the river, and, as there were no 
 wharves, the custom was if passengers were at any of the 
 
A GLIMPSE OF THE GREAT WORLD 97 
 
 landings, for them to go out in a boat, the steamer stopping 
 amid stream to take them on board. The boy lifted the trunks 
 on the flatboat, the men seated themselves on the trunks, and 
 he sculled them out to the steamer. They got aboard, and Abra- 
 ham lifted their heavy trunks to the deck. The steamer was 
 about to put on steam again when it flashed across his mind 
 that the men had not paid him. 
 
 "Hey!" he called. "You've forgotten to pay me." 
 
 "That's so," said one of the men. Each one took from his 
 pocket a silver half dollar, and threw it into the bottom of his 
 boat. The boy could scarcely believe his eyes. A whole dollar 
 — and that in less than a day! He drew a deep breath as he 
 picked up the money. 
 
 He was a poor boy, and yet he had earned a dollar by honest 
 labor in such a short time. The most he had ever earned had 
 been thirty-seven cents a day at James Taylor's. He sculled 
 back to the shore, and sat looking across the wide current. If he 
 could do so well in such a short time what possibilities the fu- 
 ture might hold for him when the time was all his own ! He was 
 a more confident, hopeful being from that time. 
 
 ' 'Pears to me, Abe, that you'd make more by stayin' here, 
 and doin' jest that than by goin' off down to New Orleans," 
 said his father as his son dutifully turned over the dollar to 
 him. 
 
 "I don't know but what you're right, pa," replied Abraham 
 thought fully. 
 
 So the bacon, garden truck, and odds and ends he had gath- 
 ered together for the trip were sold to a trader, and Abraham 
 did a little business on his own account on the river. He was 
 able to earn quite a little by rowing passengers out from the 
 
98 LINCOLN 
 
 Indiana side to the steamers halted by a signal. James Taylor 
 had operated the ferry across Anderson's Creek; the ferry 
 across the Ohio River was operated by John T. Dill. 
 
 Now John T. Dill did not like to have Abraham Lincoln 
 transporting passengers out to steamers. He believed that all 
 such traffic belonged to him by right of his license. He did not 
 take into consideration the fact that the young fellow did not 
 solicit custom when Dill was on the Indiana side. But if a 
 steamer had been hailed and was approaching, and Dill was on 
 the other side of the river, that was his opportunity, and he im- 
 proved it. 
 
 One morning as he sat in his boat, glancing idly at the other 
 boats, he heard a hail from the Kentucky side, and looked 
 around to see Dill beckoning to him. 
 
 "Hey, you Lincoln!" he called. "Come over here!" 
 
 As there was no prospect of a passenger Abraham rowed 
 across, wondering what Dill could want of him. He had 
 stepped ashore, and fastened his boat, and was about to rise 
 from his stooping position when another man, who had lain in 
 wait behind some shrubs, leaped upon him, and together with 
 Dill bore him to the ground. Though taken unawares young 
 Lincoln was a match for them. They had not reckoned on the 
 young giant's strength and muscle. A short sharp struggle 
 ensued, and Abraham flung off his assailants, and, a little 
 disheveled but cool, rose and faced them. 
 
 "What's the meanin' of this?" he asked. "What made you all 
 jump on me like that?" 
 
 "You're takin' our business away from us ; that's why," said 
 the man who had been hidden and who proved to be Dill's 
 brother. "You air stealin' our business, and we're goin' to duck 
 
 you." 
 
A GLIMPSE OF THE GREAT WORLD 99 
 
 "I haven't taken your business, and maybe I'll have some- 
 thing to say about that duckin'," said Abraham quietly. 
 
 Well, the young giant had thrown off both of them, and the 
 Dills, after a second look at him concluded that the ducking 
 might not prove so easy after all. A few moments of confer- 
 ence took place, and then Dill spoke: 
 
 "See here! if we go before a magistrate and prove that you 
 have no right to run a ferry on the river, and that you air in- 
 fringing on our rights by so doin', will you stop it?" 
 
 "If you can prove by law that I am infringing on your 
 rights, of course I'll stop," Abraham told them. 
 
 "All right. Come on!" Dill led the way towards the house 
 of Squire Samuel Pate, only a few hundred yards away. 
 
 Squire Pate had built his new hewn-log house with one of 
 its rooms of unusual size, with special reference to use as a 
 magistrate's court room. He led the way at once to this room, 
 and called Court. The Dills entered complaint and swore out 
 a warrant which was served upon the defendant in Court. The 
 squire at once called the case of the Commonwealth of Ken- 
 tucky against Abraham Lincoln. 
 
 "Are you ready for trial?" he asked. 
 
 Both parties assenting he called upon the Dills to state 
 their complaint. 
 
 "It's like this, squire," said John T. Dill. "This here de- 
 fendant, Abraham Lincoln, is a transportin' passengers to 
 steamers on the Ohio River when he has no license to operate 
 a ferry on the stream. Now I, John T. Dill, hold a license 
 granted to me by the State of Kentucky, to operate a ferry 
 across the Ohio River from the Kentucky shore to the mouth 
 of Anderson's Creek. Therefore, I claim that said Lincoln is 
 a vi'latin' my rights as given to me by the Statute." 
 
100 LINCOLN 
 
 The squire turned towards the youthful defendant. 
 
 "What have you to answer to this charge?" he asked. 
 
 The young fellow scratched his head thoughtfully. 
 
 "Well, squire," he said, "in a way I'm guilty. I'll admit 
 that I have transported passengers to steamers, as Mr. Dill 
 says; but I haven't intended to violate no statute, nor to in- 
 fringe upon his rights. And I don't think I have done so. The 
 ferry license authorizes Mr. Dill to set passengers across the 
 stream for pay between the two points specified. But it don't 
 seem to me that it should forbid other ferrymen to transport 
 passengers to the middle of the river. 
 
 "I've never set anybody across the river, squire, because I 
 knew that Mr. Dill had the special right to do that, but as I 
 said before, I have took folks to mid-stream to steamers. The 
 ferry boat can't always be on the Indiana side when steamers 
 air a comin', and you know they won't be delayed. Therefore, 
 when passengers air waitin' for them it ain't no more'n right 
 that they should have the opportunity to hire a boat to take 
 them out to the steamer. That's where I come in. When Mr. 
 Dill is on the Kentucky side, and anybody wants to go to a 
 steamer I take 'em." 
 
 Squire Pate sat still for a moment. He was much impressed 
 by the sincerity of the young man, and began to examine with 
 some care his copy of the Statutes of Kentucky. At length he 
 closed the book. 
 
 "The Court finds, Mr. Dill," he said, "that you unquestion- 
 ably hold the lawful and exclusive right to set a person across 
 the river, but the Court is of the opinion that that right does not 
 preclude an unlicensed person from rowing to the middle of the 
 stream. The defendant is therefore discharged." 
 
A GLIMPSE OF THE GREAT WORLD 101 
 
 Much disgusted the Dill brothers went their way. The 
 squire turned to the young man. 
 
 "Sit down, and talk awhile," he said. "I was much interested 
 in the way you handled your case. Have you ever studied law?" 
 
 "No," replied Abraham. "I have thought that I should like 
 to do so though." 
 
 "You should. Every one ought to know something of law. 
 Many difficulties could be avoided if men would only inform 
 themselves concerning the Statutes." 
 
 They talked long and earnestly. The squire cleared his 
 docket once a month, and more than once Abraham rowed 
 across to attend these trials. He became intensely interested in 
 court procedure. 1 
 
 He also walked sixteen miles to the office of David Turn- 
 ham, the sheriff of Spencer County, and borrowed the Revised 
 Statutes of Indiana to study. Mr. Turner took a great interest 
 in him, and helped him whenever he could in his studies. 
 
 The Statutes contained the Declaration of Independence, the 
 Constitution of the United States, the Act of Virginia passed 
 in 1783 by which the territory northwestward of the River 
 Ohio was conveyed to the United States, and the Articles of 
 1787 for governing this territory. The Revised Laws of In- 
 diana with the Constitution of the State followed. These docu- 
 ments took a great hold on Abraham. He not only studied 
 them; he saturated himself with them. 
 
 Frequently he wandered off to Boonville, a town on the 
 river, distant fifteen miles, the county seat of Warwick County, 
 to hear and see how the courts were conducted there. He began 
 too to make political speeches, and became so adept that he 
 
 J The above case related by Mr. Wm. H. Townsend in Barton's Life of Lincoln. 
 
102 LINCOLN 
 
 could draw a crowd about him every time he mounted a stump. 
 Even when at work in the field he could not resist the tempta- 
 tion to mount the nearest stump and practice on his fellow la- 
 borers. The latter would flock around him, eager to hear the 
 droll ideas and original theories he would advance. 
 
 At this time Abraham wrote out his thoughts on the Coun- 
 try's form of government, the Constitution and the Union in a 
 composition — "American Government" — which he asked his 
 friend, Mr. William Wood of Gentryville, to read and keep 
 for him. Through his instrumentality it attracted the attention 
 of many persons, among them Lawyer Pitcher, of Rockport, 
 afterwards Judge of the Court of Common Pleas. Lawyer 
 Pitcher declared that the "world couldn't beat it," and gave 
 the young fellow free access to the books in his library. 
 
 Although it was the universal custom of the time to indulge 
 in strong drink Abraham had not permitted himself to acquire 
 the habit. The pioneers were a law-abiding people, as a rule. 
 Deeds of violence were only committed under the influence of 
 drink. The youth had observed this, and had taken it to heart. 
 He wrote an article on Temperance which was brought to the 
 attention of a Baptist preacher, Aaron Farmer, a man of local 
 renown, who thought it so good that he sent it to an Ohio 
 newspaper which published it. 
 
 The boy attained quite a little prominence by these two 
 articles; but, after all, the things which gave him the admira- 
 tion and mastery of the countryside were his gigantic stature 
 and his feats of strength. Some of these almost surpass belief. 
 It was told of him that he had picked up and carried away a 
 chicken-house weighing six hundred pounds. On another oc- 
 casion, seeing some men preparing a contrivance for lifting 
 some large posts, Abe quickly shouldered the posts and carried 
 
A GLIMPSE OF THE GREAT WORLD 103 
 
 them where they were needed. One of his employers declared 
 that, "he could strike a maul a heavier blow — could sink an axe 
 deeper into the wood than any man he ever knew." 
 
 In a new settlement the country store is the resort of story- 
 tellers. It is the literary club, the lecture platform, and the 
 centre around which the associated life of the community clus- 
 ters. The general store at Gentryville had become such a cen- 
 tre. Abraham liked to go there, and Jones, the proprietor, liked 
 for him to come. He was a good story-teller, a clever debater, 
 and a jovial companion. He made many friends, and some- 
 times the men would cluster about him till midnight, listening 
 to his stories which always contained pith and point. 
 
 In January of 1828, a bereavement came that wrung the 
 boy's heart : his sister Sally died. She had always been greatly 
 attached to him, and he felt the blow keenly. The shadows deep- 
 ened upon his face ; a melancholy settled upon him which gave 
 place to intense restlessness. He wanted to get away from 
 Pigeon Creek. Having great faith in the judgment of his 
 friend, William Wood of Gentryville, he went to him and 
 stated the condition of things; ending with, 
 
 "Would you give me a recommendation to the officers of 
 one of the boats plying up and down the river, Mr. Wood? 
 Maybe I could get something to do on one of them." 
 
 "I wouldn't do it Abraham," said Mr. Wood shaking his 
 head. "You are not of age yet; are you?" 
 
 "No, I shall be nineteen next month." 
 
 "Well, Abraham, you know that your father has the right 
 to your time and labor until you are twenty-one years old. If 
 I were you I would stay with him until you are legally your 
 own master. It is sometimes hard for a young fellow to do that, 
 especially when he feels that he could better himself by striking 
 
104 LINCOLN 
 
 out into the world. But it is a moral duty that you owe your 
 father as well as a legal one." 
 
 Duty? Abraham thought the matter over. If it were right he 
 must do it even though the cost to himself be great. And sud- 
 denly he seemed to hear again the words of his dying mother: 
 "Be good to your father, my son." Thanking Mr. Wood for 
 his advice the youth left the house of his friend resolved to 
 stay with his father until he was morally and legally free of his 
 obligation. 
 
 And then, as though it were a reward for this determination, 
 a few weeks afterwards there came to him the longed-for op- 
 portunity to see the world. 
 
 Mr. James Gentry, after whom the village of Gentryville 
 was named, for whom he had been at work, had fitted out a 
 boat with grain and meat for a trading expedition to New 
 Orleans. He had placed his son, Allan Gentry, in charge of 
 the cargo but he wished to have some one accompany him. He 
 decided upon Abraham, even though the latter had not been 
 much away from home, and knew absolutely nothing about the 
 Mississippi River. But Mr. Gentry had found him trustworthy 
 and resourceful; so he offered him eight dollars a month and 
 board, with return transportation, to go with his son. Abra- 
 ham accepted the offer with alacrity. It was not the money to 
 be made that he was thinking of; it was the delight of seeing 
 the world. New Orleans was the most cosmopolitan and bril- 
 liant city of the United States at this time. To a Westerner a 
 halo of romance and unreality hung over it. Allan Gentry was 
 no less pleased with the prospect of seeing it than was Abra- 
 ham Lincoln. Therefore, it was with no small degree of excite- 
 ment that the two j*oung men pushed out from the shore of the 
 
A GLIMPSE OF THE GREAT WORLD 105 
 
 Landing, one bright day in March, and set forth on their — 
 to them — momentous trip. 
 
 The boat was wide and flat, of that variety that the river men 
 termed "Broadhorn." It had a little caboose in which they 
 could sleep, and clay several inches in depth was spread upon 
 the bottom of the boat, upon which they could kindle a fire, 
 bake their corn bread, and fry their meat. Each night they were 
 to tie up at a landing or to a convenient tree. 
 
 It was March. The river was swollen from the spring rains, 
 but this made it easier for Abraham, manager of the forward 
 oars, to avoid snag, and eddy, and bar, and keep the blunt 
 nose of the boat well directed. There were not many settle- 
 ments along the Ohio; here and there they beheld a clearing 
 and a solitary log cabin, or away off in dim forest valleys they 
 could see the rising smoke of sugar camps. From the densely 
 wooded shores there came the whistle of the red birds, the chat- 
 ter of squirrels, and the cooing of many pigeons. Sometimes 
 the call of wild turkeys came to them, now from the Kentucky 
 and now from the Indiana shore. At such times Allan would 
 get his gun, and their fare of corn bread and bacon would be 
 varied by game. 
 
 Sometimes the days were lonely; at other times the river 
 rang with the music of boat horns, and all sorts of craft went 
 by. Sometimes at night the stillness of the great river was 
 broken by the hooting of the big-horned owl echoing away 
 among the dark woods, or in the early morning by the familiar 
 crowing of the cocks as they awoke the hen roosts of the in- 
 frequent settlements. 
 
 On and on they drifted down the Ohio until at last they came 
 to a wide expanse of water at its mouth, and turned into the 
 
106 LINCOLN 
 
 great yellow Mississippi at Cairo. Abraham's heart expanded 
 with excitement and joy as he entered the monster river. On 
 down they went, for hundreds of miles, borne swiftly by the 
 irresistible current. It took a keen eye, a steady hand, and 
 nerve of iron to effect a stop at the various landings for trad- 
 ing, but the required visits were made, and the young mer- 
 chants met with gratifying success. On down they went. At 
 intervals they beheld large plantations with their collections of 
 cabins — the homes of slaves — and sometimes they heard the 
 negroes chanting at their work, the plaintive cadences of the 
 melodies fraught with a haunting sadness. 
 
 One night, six miles below Baton Rouge, they moored the 
 boat at the landing of the plantation of Madame Duchesne. 
 It was so warm that both Abraham and Allan preferred to 
 sleep on the open deck rather than in the close caboose. The 
 young fellows had had rather a trying day so that both fell 
 asleep soon after lying down. 
 
 Allan Gentry was awakened by the sound of stealthy foot- 
 steps, and sat up leaning on his elbow trying to peer into the 
 darkness. Everything was quiet, but he felt that all was not 
 right. After listening for several moments he was about to lie 
 down again when several negroes sprang upon the deck of 
 the boat. 
 
 "Abe!" shouted Allan springing to his feet. 
 
 There was so much of alarm in Allan's voice that Abraham 
 jumped to his feet, the sweat starting from his brow. He was 
 just in time. The negroes, who were seeking plunder, hurled 
 themselves upon the two young men. They would think lightly 
 enough, now that they were discovered, of knocking the young 
 traders on the head and throwing them into the river. It was 
 a fight for life Abraham realized. 
 
A GLIMPSE OF THE GREAT WORLD 107 
 
 "Get the guns, Abe," shouted Allan. 
 
 But Abraham Lincoln needed no gun. He was among the 
 darkies with a serviceable club, striking right and left. Allan 
 Gentry, too, was fighting with all his might, desperation lend- 
 ing strength to his arms. The negroes fought well though they 
 were evidently surprised by the vigorous defense. One of them 
 gave Abraham a wound, the scar of which he carried with him 
 to his grave; but his strength and agility were too much for 
 them. He knocked several overboard, and put the rest to flight, 
 howling with pain. Flushed with battle the two carried the 
 war into the enemy's country, and pursued the retreating Af- 
 ricans some distance into the forest that made a dark blur 
 against the star-studded sky. Bleeding but victorious they 
 swung about presently, and returned to the boat. 
 
 "We'd best get out of here, Allan," said Abe. "They may 
 come back with others." 
 
 "Yes; and they might be armed too, Abe. I think it's just as 
 well to go." 
 
 With this they cast off moorings, hastily swung into the 
 stream, and floated down the river until daylight. 
 
 On down the stream they went, the river becoming a vast 
 yellow lake. At length, early one afternoon, they came to New 
 Orleans. 
 
 Hundreds of flatboats were moored along the levees ; steam- 
 boats were coming and going ; ships were anchored in the river. 
 They heard languages which they could not understand — 
 French and Spanish — and saw sailors from all parts of the 
 world. 
 
 It was a low-lying city they saw, as they glided along the 
 eastern bank, or levee, which held the river back from the 
 lowlands. Presently they found an open space between the 
 
108 LINCOLN 
 
 boats and gliding to the landing, leaped ashore, and made fast 
 their boat. They disposed of the rest of the cargo to good ad- 
 vantage, and sold the empty boat for it would not pay to take 
 it home up-stream. Then, stared at by the boatmen and idlers 
 along the levee, the two adventurers set forth to see the city. 
 
 It was like nothing Abraham had ever seen. The houses had 
 an odd and foreign look — some were of wood, some of logs 
 and plaster, and some of adobe with curving roofs of red tiles 
 and eaves projecting over the banquettes, as the side-walks 
 were called. The people, houses, manners and customs — all 
 were different from what Abraham and his fellow-boatman 
 had ever seen. It was a strange and motley throng that filled 
 the streets, and a strange and motley city. 
 
 Other strange sights unfolded before the two young men 
 during the few days they remained in the city. The products 
 of the world were offered for sale in the marts, and strangest 
 and saddest sight of all to Abraham Lincoln was the sale of 
 human beings in the slave mart, — negroes and negresses sold 
 to be taken to the cotton and sugar plantations. It was his 
 first sight of human slavery, and he never forgot it. The sight- 
 seeing over, the two, elated by their success, made their way 
 back to Indiana by steamboat where they arrived in June, the 
 trip having lasted about three months. 
 
 The old duties of farm hand, hired man, woodsman, were 
 taken up again, and life went on in the old way. Nay; not 
 quite, for Abraham had had a glimpse of the great world, his 
 horizon was wider than it had been. Mr. Gentry was so well 
 pleased by the success of the venture that he planned another 
 to be made the following year. 
 
 It was not to be. With the coming of 1829 the Pestilence, 
 the dread malady called the "milk-sick," again made its ap- 
 
A GLIMPSE OF THE GREAT WORLD 109 
 
 pearance, and swept over the valley of Pigeon Creek. Cattle 
 and people died, and all operations of farm and village came 
 to a standstill. Dennis Hanks had an attack of it, and all of his 
 cattle and stock died. Neither man nor beast seemed safe from 
 its ravages. Thomas Lincoln became restless and uneasy. At 
 this time messages were received from John Hanks who, it 
 will be remembered, had gone to Illinois, containing glowing 
 accounts of the country, and urging the family to move thither. 
 
 "I reckon we'd better go, Abe," said Thomas Lincoln who 
 was never averse to moving. "It 'pears like we don't git on 
 here. Been here nigh on to fourteen year, and haven't paid for 
 the farm yit. Yes; I reckon we'd better go." 
 
 "All right, pa," answered Abraham slowly. He was reluc- 
 tant to leave Indiana. He had lived among the people since he 
 was seven years old, and had gained their respect and affection. 
 Would he find such friends in the new country? 
 
 And the settlers heard with regret of his going. They gave 
 him many proofs that he would not be forgotten when the 
 intention of the family to move became known. It was not until 
 March, 1830, however, that all was in readiness for the migra- 
 tion. The farm was turned over to Mr. Gentry of Gentryville, 
 the corn and hogs were sold to Mr. David Turnham, and 
 finally Thomas Lincoln declared himself ready to go. 
 
 But Abraham had two visits to pay before he was ready to 
 go anywhere. One was to the village cemetery where Sally was 
 buried; and the other was to the grave under the great trees 
 of the forest where his mother lay. That angel mother of whom 
 he said in after life — "All that I am or hope to be I owe to 
 my angel mother." 
 
 They found him there weeping, for he could not bear the 
 thought of leaving her there alone. But the ox-team was wait- 
 
110 LINCOLN 
 
 ing, and he went slowly and sadly to take it in charge, little 
 dreaming how the new life towards which he was beginning the 
 journey would end. 
 
 And as he drove out of the valley a friend planted a cedar 
 tree to his memory; the first monument ever erected to him. 
 
CHAPTER NINE 
 
 THE LAND OF THE ILLINI "THE LAND OF GROWN-UP MEN" 
 
 It matters not how anxious one is to begin a journey, or how 
 strong the lure towards a new country ; when the time of part- 
 ing from the old friends and associations comes, and the actual 
 severing of ties that binds one to the place called home is at 
 hand, sadness fills the heart, and a nameless dread that per- 
 haps after all the move is unwise ; perhaps after all new friends 
 and the new place may not be what one expects, creeps over 
 one. And so the little party that drove out of Pigeon Creek 
 Valley on that March day of 1830 were sad and sorrowful. 
 There 'was not much conversation for a long time after start- 
 ing, each one being busied with his thoughts — and feelings. 
 
 Abraham was sitting on the seat overlooking the oxen in the 
 front of the Lincoln wagon, staring straight ahead, the hickory 
 handle of his ox-whip lying across his lap, the lash at his feet, 
 his dark, droll face heavy with melancholy. He threw off his 
 thoughtful, dejected attitude, however, as a smothered sob 
 broke from his mother's lips. 
 
 "This here movin' reminds me of a feller I heard about in 
 
 Kaintuck," he remarked. "He moved so often that his chickens 
 
 would lay down and cross their legs to be tied every time they 
 
 in 
 
112 LINCOLN 
 
 heard wagon wheels. I reckon ours will soon get to doing the 
 same thing." 
 
 "And we all remind me of the old woman before she got 
 religion," spoke Dennis Hanks not to be outdone. " 'Brethring 
 and sistring,' she said at the Camp-meetin', 'I uster allers be 
 in the cellar a poutin' afore I got religion; and now I'm allers 
 on the housetop a shoutinV We've been in the cellar long 
 enough; it's time for the shoutin'." 
 
 And soon, under the influence of these two indefatigable 
 fun-makers, the party recovered their spirits, and the journey 
 proceeded merrily, its tedium beguiled by jest, and song, and 
 story. 
 
 There were thirteen persons in the caravan. Thirteen? Nay, 
 fourteen; for a pet dog followed the wagon driven by Abra- 
 ham Lincoln. Thomas Lincoln, his wife, his son Abraham, his 
 stepson John Johnston, Mrs. Lincoln's two daughters with 
 their husbands — Dennis Hanks and Levi Hall — and their chil- 
 dren made up the company. 
 
 The Spring was backward and the weather was cold, but 
 the sky was blue, the buds were swelling, and an occasional 
 robin gave promise of the coming of warmer days. The ground 
 had not yet yielded up the frosts of winter so that during the 
 day the roads would thaw out on the surface and at night freeze 
 over again, thus making travelling, especially with oxen, pain- 
 fully slow and tiresome. The streams were swollen, and, as 
 there were no bridges, these had to be forded. In the early part 
 of the day the latter were also frozen slightly. 
 
 There were many hardships to be endured, but with the 
 bravery of pioneers the party bore them hopefully, considering 
 them as only the temporary deprivations necessary to accom- 
 plish what they had started out to do. 
 
THE LAND OF THE ILLINI 113 
 
 One morning, after two rainy, cold days with a northeast 
 wind blowing, they came to a stream that was covered with 
 thin ice. The oxen paused on the bank, hesitating to go for- 
 ward, but at length were forced onward, breaking through a 
 square yard of ice at every step. Abraham led the way with 
 his wagon, so intent on getting across that he did not notice 
 that his dog was missing. As the last yoke of oxen reached the 
 western side of the stream, however, a pitiful yelp sounded 
 from the opposite bank. There was the dog, whining and run- 
 ning back and forth, afraid of the ice which drove him out 
 whenever he ventured into the water. 
 
 "I declare," exclaimed Abraham, "if there ain't the dog! I 
 wonder how he got left? I reckon I didn't hear him bark be- 
 cause the wagon creaked so loud." 
 
 "It's his own fault," remarked his father crossly. "The houn' 
 was off after a rabbit, and didn't catch up with us till after we'd 
 crossed. I seen him." 
 
 "Oh, come on, Abe," called Dennis. "We don't want the 
 purp anyway. He can either swim across, or stay where he is. 
 He can take care of himself." 
 
 "And we're losin' time a standin' here a parleyin' about a 
 houn' dog," said Thomas Lincoln wrathfully. "Whip up, 
 Abe!" 
 
 "I'm going to get that dog," said Abe. 
 
 "But, man alive; it won't pay to turn the wagon back and 
 ford the stream again," protested his father. 
 
 "I'm not goin' to, pa; but I can't leave that dog." With this 
 Abraham stripped off his shoes and socks, and turning up his 
 breeches as far as he could, waded across the icy water to the 
 other side, picked up the shivering dog, and returned in tri- 
 umph to the party. 
 
114 LINCOLN 
 
 "You'll get your death of cold," complained his father, "And 
 all on account of a pup." 
 
 "I couldn't leave him, pa. Just see how glad he is," returned 
 Abraham putting the animal on the ground where it began 
 making frantic leaps of joy and giving other demonstrations 
 of dog gratitude. "That pays for all the exposure I've under- 
 gone." 
 
 "You're too chicken-hearted for your own good," growled 
 Thomas Lincoln. "Some day you'll wish you was callous 
 enough not to let such things worry you. A man gits the wust 
 of it when he's too tender." 
 
 Abraham's only reply was to swing his whip lustily over the 
 oxen's heads, and the wagons started onward. It was a long 
 journey, lasting two weeks, yet it was filled with keenest in- 
 terest. Sometimes they rode through giant timber, and at other 
 times over wide savannas, an expanse of prairie and forest that 
 "in fifty years was to be changed by the axe and the plowshare 
 into prosperous farms and homesteads, and settled by the rest- 
 less nations of the world." 
 
 And so journeying across the prairies, black with rich loam, 
 alive to all the sights of this new land of Canaan, the party 
 came to rest at last at the cabin of John Hanks, five miles 
 northeast of Decatur. 
 
 He gave them a hearty welcome, and after they had rested 
 a few days, took them to the land that he had selected from 
 the public lands for them, five miles beyond his place, and ten 
 miles west of Decatur, in Macon County. The place was on a 
 bluff, overlooking the Sangamon River, and was well supplied 
 with timber. It was such a charming and picturesque site that 
 all of them were delighted. John Hanks had most of the logs 
 cut ready for the building of the house, and the men of the 
 
THE LAND OF THE ILLINI 115 
 
 party set to work with so much enthusiasm that a building was 
 shortly erected. With the aid of the oxen and a plow John 
 Hanks and Abraham broke up fifteen acres of virgin soil, then 
 split rails enough from the adjacent timber to fence the whole 
 place in. They were now full-fledged citizens of Illinois — The 
 Land of the Illini — the French had added the ois — "The Land 
 of grown-up men." 
 
 As was the custom, all the neighborhood flocked in for the 
 housewarming when the cabin was finished ; a way they had of 
 welcoming newcomers. A man by the name of Posey, a candi- 
 date for office, travelling through the country districts of the 
 county, took advantage of the time and place to make a speech. 
 He was against Internal Improvements, and spoke warmly 
 concerning the matter. When he had finished John Hanks 
 voiced the thoughts of the gathering. 
 
 "That speech don't amount to anything," he said bluntly. 
 "Abe here can beat it all holler." 
 
 "Come on, Abe, let's hear you," cried the men laughing. 
 
 "Yes; come on, Abe," said John Hanks turning over a box 
 for him to stand on. 
 
 Nothing loath Abraham mounted the box and spoke — taking 
 the same subject as Posey, Internal Improvements — with the 
 Navigation of the Sangamon River in particular — a subject 
 dear to the hearts of the assembled people. The men applauded 
 him vigorously when he had finished, and Mr. Posey, the candi- 
 date, congratulated him heartily, asking him where he had 
 learned to do so well. Abraham told him of his manner and 
 method of reading, and what he had read. Mr. Posey shook 
 hands with him again, and encouraged him to persevere. 
 
 "You have done well," he said. "It is remarkable that you 
 should have read so many books by yourself. Keep on. A man 
 
116 LINCOLN 
 
 that has brains, the brains that you have, will make something 
 of himself. I wish you success." 
 
 "Now wasn't that handsome of him?" asked Abraham of his 
 father and John Hanks. "Not many men would have talked to 
 me like that. I'm right glad that I met with him." 
 
 "Well, I'm sorry," exclaimed his father eying his lanky 
 length dubiously. "You know more about speechifying now 
 than you do about work, and this kind of talk is apt to onsettle 
 ye more'n never. And ye never have been any hand to work like 
 killin' snakes at that." 
 
 But Abraham only laughed. He was twenty-one the Feb- 
 ruary before the family migration had taken place, and was 
 ready now to shift for himself. He had helped his father to 
 move, to build a cabin, had plowed and put in the crops, fenced 
 in the farm, and had done all that he could to make his parents 
 comfortable. With the sons-in-law living with them they no 
 longer had need of him. The time had come for the fledgling 
 to leave the nest. 
 
 He had absolutely nothing to start out with, and was obliged 
 to work at such odd jobs as he could get among the farmers 
 in the neighborhood. He needed a pair of trousers badly so 
 that the first thing he did was to make a bargain with a Mrs. 
 Nancy Miller to split four hundred rails for every yard of 
 brown jeans, dyed with white walnut bark, that would be nec- 
 essary to make him a pair. He was cheerful, ready to turn his 
 hand to any honest piece of work so that he soon grew in favor 
 with the rude and simple pioneers of southern Illinois. Most 
 of his work was done in company with John Hanks, as farm- 
 hand and rail-splitter. At this time he usually walked five, six, 
 and seven miles to his work. And so the fall and early winter 
 passed. And then came the snow. 
 
THE LAND OF THE ILLINI 117 
 
 The winter of 1830-31 was one never to be forgotten in 
 Illinois. It made an historic epoch. The weather remained open 
 and comparatively pleasant up to Christmas Day when it be- 
 gan to snow. It continued until the snow was three feet deep 
 on the level. Then came a drizzling rain that froze as it fell, 
 the thermometer sinking to twelve degrees below zero. There 
 came more snow and more rain. A thick crust of ice gathered 
 on the snow, and the difficulty of getting about housed up the 
 settlers in their solitary cabins. For weeks the} T remained shut 
 in hoping for some mitigation of the severe cold, and were then 
 driven forth by the fear of famine. Those who survived in after 
 years called themselves "snow-birds." * 
 
 The winter bore with especial severity upon the Lincoln 
 family as they had no large stores of supplies either of food 
 or fuel. Abraham split three thousand rails for one Major 
 Warnick in the neighborhood, as he could through the winter, 
 walking back and forth three miles from his father's house to 
 do it. He nearly froze his feet, and was laid up in consequence. 
 
 The prospects for the future were not very bright. There 
 seemed to be nothing before him but the life of a farm-hand 
 or rail-splitter, and in the past few months there had not been 
 much chance to read. His aspirations were not crystallized as 
 yet, but he was filled with vague longings for something better 
 than he had known. While he was speculating upon what lay 
 before him he was surprised one day by a visit from a stranger 
 whom John Hanks brought to see him. 
 
 The man proved to be one Dennis Offutt, a venturesome, 
 iridescent business man with many business operations along 
 the Sangamon River. He had heard glowing reports of John 
 Hanks' successful experience as boatman in Kentucky, and 
 
 i Nicolay and Hay. 
 
118 LINCOLN 
 
 had come down the river to engage him to take a boat load 
 of stock and provisions down to New Orleans. As they would 
 need additional help John Hanks had brought him to Abra- 
 ham, after telling Mr. Offutt of the latter's experience in tak- 
 ing a boat to New Orleans. 
 
 "Will you go, Abe?" asked Hanks as he finished telling 
 these facts to Abraham. 
 
 "If arrangements can be made that would be satisfactory," 
 answered the young man. 
 
 "Well, I will give fifty cents a day and find you," said Den- 
 nis Offutt. "Further, if the venture proves successful, I will 
 give an additional twenty dollars to each at the end of the 
 trip." 
 
 Abraham and John Hanks exchanged glances. Neither one 
 of them had ever had so much money at one time. Fifty cents 
 a day and found — which meant food and lodging — were not 
 often to be picked up. Abraham reflected. 
 
 "Would you need a third man?" he asked. "There's Jack 
 Johnston who might go." 
 
 "Yes; a third man would prove very useful," replied Offutt. 
 
 So Abraham brought in his stepbrother, and the bargain 
 was made. They were to join Offutt at Springfield as soon as 
 the snow should go off, he agreeing to have a boat ready for 
 them at the mouth of Spring Creek upon their arrival. 
 
 With some impatience Abraham awaited the time of depar- 
 ture. The snow lingered, but about the first of March, 1831, 
 went off with a rush, so flooding the country that travelling by 
 land was impossible. The young men purchased a large canoe 
 and floated down the Sangamon River in it. They lauded at 
 Judy's Ferry, 1 five miles west of Springfield, and walked to 
 
 i Now Jamestown. 
 
THE LAND OF THE ILLINI 119 
 
 Springfield where they found Offutt at the "Buckhorn Inn." 
 
 He had failed in getting a boat at Beardstown, as he had told 
 them he would do, and for a short time it seemed to the young 
 fellows as though their chance of opulent employment was 
 about to come to naught. Then an idea came to Abraham. 
 
 "Why not let us build the boat for you, Mr. Offutt?" was 
 his proposal. 
 
 "Could you?" asked Dennis Offutt eagerly. "Why I would 
 give each of you twelve dollars a month and found, if you 
 would. But could you do it?" 
 
 "Yes," Abraham told him positively. "We've had some ex- 
 perience in building such boats. I reckon we could make one 
 that would carry all the stock and grain you could put on it." 
 
 So this second bargain was made. The three young men went 
 to Sangamontown, on the Sangamon River, seven miles north- 
 east of Springfield, and set to work. From what was known as 
 "Congress Land," that is, land belonging to the Government, 
 they got out the necessary timber for the vessel, and had it 
 whipped into shape by Kirkpatrick's Sawmill. During the 
 work of construction they lodged in a shanty near-by, which 
 they themselves built, doing their own cooking, Abraham be- 
 ing — as he himself described it — "Chief cook and Bottle 
 washer." 
 
 It took about four weeks to build the boat, and then they 
 sent for Offutt to come to the launching. The boat was loaded 
 with pork in barrels, corn, and hogs; and the party, Offutt, 
 Abraham Lincoln, John Hanks, and John Johnston, embarked 
 on the Sangamon, booming with Spring freshets, for New 
 Orleans. A few miles down the river, at the village of New 
 Salem, there was a mill-dam, and, though the river was raging, 
 the boat stuck, and hung helplessly over the dam. 
 
120 LINCOLN 
 
 "Well," exclaimed Offutt disgustedly, "this settles our trip 
 to New Orleans. I reckon this is as far as we'll get." 
 
 "I reckon not," spoke Abraham. "We'll try to get off." 
 
 But all their efforts were unavailing. All night they hung, 
 and morning found their situation apparently hopeless. The 
 bow of the boat was in the air, the stern in the water, and the 
 cargo settling backward — shipwreck almost certain. 
 
 Meantime, the news of the plight of the strangers had spread 
 throughout the village, and the entire population gathered on 
 the banks, commenting on the situation, shouting advice, and 
 hectoring and worrying the harassed mariners. It was, to say 
 the least, an embarrassing position. But Abraham Lincoln had 
 been thinking to some purpose. 
 
 "See if we can get the loan of a boat, John," he said to 
 Hanks. "If we can get the cargo off I believe that I can get the 
 boat over." 
 
 The boat was borrowed. The crowd on the shore ceased its 
 comments to watch what the tall, gaunt bow-hand, clad in a 
 homemade suit of blue jeans, who was wading about the boat, 
 rigging up an indescribable sort of contrivance, was doing. 
 He soon had the boat unloaded ; all hands working with a will. 
 When this was done he tilted the boat, and let the water out 
 of it by boring holes in the bottom. The boat was then easily 
 hoisted over the dam. The holes were plugged, the boat re- 
 loaded, and the boat and her crew floated down-stream amid 
 the lusty cheers of the crowd. 
 
 The ingenuity which the young man had shown was a mat- 
 ter of conversation for many days among the village inhabi- 
 tants, but no one was more impressed than Dennis Offutt. He 
 vowed that he would build a steamboat for the Sangamon, and 
 make Abraham Lincoln its captain, and "it would have to go." 
 
Abe and His Crew Made a Quick Voyage Down the Broad Mississippi 
 
THE LAND OF THE ILLINI 121 
 
 They made a quick voyage down the Sangamon into the Il- 
 linois River, and thence on down to the broad Mississippi. 
 Swiftly they glided past Alton, St. Louis, Cairo, making brief 
 stops at Memphis, Vicksburg, and Natchez. Early in May 
 they came in sight of the masts and spires of the Crescent City. 
 
 There were thousands of boats along the river front: arks, 
 keel-boats, barges, and steamboats — symbols of a resistless 
 commerce. So many that it was said that "one could walk a mile 
 over the tops of these boats without going ashore." Farther out 
 in the yellow current were the masts and spars of packets, 
 barques, and brigantines; all nations of the world being rep- 
 resented in these high-hulled vessels. 
 
 Abraham and his companions tied up alongside of the boats, 
 and at once set about disposing of the remainder of the cargo. 
 It took them a month to do this, and meantime they wandered 
 about the narrow streets of the city viewing the sights. 
 
 Since young Lincoln had visited the city three years previ- 
 ously New Orleans had entered upon an era of unprecedented 
 prosperity, and was more than ever cosmopolitan in its make- 
 up and in its life. 
 
 In their rambles through the shell-paved, narrow streets the 
 young men saw much of human slavery. At this time the city 
 was full of slaves, and the sad sight of men, women, and chil- 
 dren sold publicly like animals was most revolting. "The 
 better class of slave-holders of the South, who looked on the 
 institution as patriarchal, and who guarded their slaves with 
 conscientious care, knew little, it should be said, of this terrible 
 evil. Their transfer of slaves was humane; but in the open 
 markets of the city it was attended by shocking cruelty and 
 degradation." 1 Abraham Lincoln's mind and conscience were 
 
 i Tarbell's Life of Lincoln. 
 
122 LINCOLN 
 
 awakened to the inhumanity of the system by the sights he saw 
 in New Orleans, and "Slavery ran its iron into him then and 
 there." 
 
 In June the party embarked on a steamboat and went up 
 to St. Louis where they separated. Abraham and his step- 
 brother walked across Illinois to Coles County to which place 
 Thomas Lincoln, driven out of Macon County by fever and 
 ague, had removed. John Hanks went on to Springfield, while 
 Dennis Offutt remained behind at St. Louis. 
 
 Before Abraham left him, however, Offutt — who had taken 
 a great liking to him — engaged him to take charge of a store 
 which he proposed to establish in the new village of New Salem. 
 He was to ship goods for the enterprise a few weeks later, and 
 Abraham was to meet him there to enter upon his new duties. 
 In the meantime, he was to drift about until his employer was 
 ready for him. He went to spend the time of waiting, which 
 he thought would probably be his last stay, under his father's 
 roof. 
 
CHAPTER TEN 
 
 HONEST ABE 
 
 The interval spent at his father's house passed quickly. The 
 family knew that this time Abraham's stay from home would 
 last indefinitely, and he was made to feel that he would be 
 missed exceedingly. When the day for departure came his step- 
 sisters were in tears ; the voluble Dennis Hanks had nothing to 
 say, and even his father forbore to make adverse remarks. 
 Instead he shook his hand warmly, slapped him on the back, 
 and in many ways showed that after all he was proud of his 
 tall son. Mrs. Lincoln's emotion was so great that she could 
 only cling to him without speaking. She had been much to the 
 boy. Throughout his childhood and youth she had encouraged 
 him in his studies, stimulated his ambitions, aided him in every 
 way she could, and had ever proved to be a true mother to 
 him. It was hard to tell her good-bye, so strong and abiding 
 was the affection between them. 
 
 The parting was over at length, and Abraham left his fa- 
 ther's roof never to reside under it again, though he did not lose 
 sight of his parents. He continued to aid them in every way, 
 even when he could ill afford to do so. Now he set forth for 
 New Salem with all the pathetic eagerness of youth for a 
 plunge into the unknown. 
 
 123 
 
124 LINCOLN 
 
 New Salem, where Dennis Offutt was to establish his store, 
 was a sprightly village, built on a bluff overlooking the Sanga- 
 mon River. It was a new village, having sprung into being just 
 two years before young Lincoln began his journey towards it. 
 It stood among the woods on the brow of the ridge, on the left 
 bank of the Sangamon, about twenty miles northwest of 
 Springfield. Beyond the line of the forest stretched wide savan- 
 nas over which were scattered a number of farms, standing out 
 in bold relief from the dead level of the prairie. The village it- 
 self contained from fifteen to twenty houses, all built of logs, 
 and about a hundred inhabitants. It boasted a grist-mill, a saw- 
 mill, a schoolhouse, several stores and a tavern. It had also 
 a dam that made its presence known by its noise. 
 
 It was the morning of a day in August, 1831, that Abraham 
 Lincoln climbed the long, hard hill on which the little log- 
 cabin settlement rested, and made his way through its one 
 street to a long low house over whose door hung a sign which 
 bore the word: "Rutledge's Tavern." 
 
 "Could you tell me, sir, if Mr. Dennis Offutt is here?" he 
 asked of the pleasant-faced man who came forward at his en- 
 trance. 
 
 "He is not here," was the answer. Dennis Offutt and his 
 many enterprises were known all up and down the Sangamon 
 River. "Were you to meet him at this place?" 
 
 "Yes; Rutledge's Tavern, New Salem. Are you Mr. Rut- 
 ledge?" 
 
 "James Rutledge, at your service. Well, Offutt is not here 
 unless he is somewhere about town. You may find him outside. 
 It's Election Day, you know? Meantime, just leave your bun- 
 dle here while you look about." 
 
 "Thank you kindly, Mr. Rutledge." Abraham deposited his 
 
"HONEST ABE" 125 
 
 bundle of belongings on the floor in a corner of the room. "If 
 he does drop in tell him that Abraham Lincoln is looking for 
 him. Well, I reckon I'll look around outside." 
 
 "He may come into town later in the day, if he is not about 
 now," suggested the landlord. 
 
 "That's so," assented Abraham. "I'll look about." With this 
 he sallied forth into the street which ran through the centre 
 of the hamlet. 
 
 The hitching rails in front of the stores and houses were 
 filled with horses, for the people from the surrounding country- 
 side had come in for the election. A number of these were gath- 
 ered about the polling-place, and Abraham made his way 
 thither, edging through the crowd to watch the method of pro- 
 cedure. 
 
 It was before the time of voting by ballot. The judges and 
 clerk sat at a table with the poll-book before them. The voter 
 walked up, announced the candidate of his choice, and it was 
 recorded in his presence. Several people glanced around as the 
 young man entered, and spoke cordially to him, recognizing 
 him as the ingenious young flatboatman who, the April previ- 
 ous, had freed his boat when it was caught on the dam. 
 
 The clerk of the election, who had been glancing over the 
 crowd with some anxiety, noticed the tall young stranger, and 
 beckoned to him. Surprised, Abraham went to his side. 
 
 "Did you want me?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes; that is, if you can write. Can you?" 
 
 "Well, I can make a few rabbit tracks," was the young man's 
 answer. 
 
 "Then you are the very man for us," exclaimed the clerk. 
 "You see the Election Board appointed me as clerk with Mr. 
 McNamee as my assistant. But Mr. McNamee is sick, so he 
 
126 LINCOLN 
 
 can't be here. We have been looking for some one to help us 
 out. Will you do it?" 
 
 "Be right glad to," replied Abraham taking the chair the 
 clerk drew out for him. "Now show me what you want done, 
 and I'll do my best." 
 
 "I am sure you will," responded the clerk who promptly 
 proceeded to initiate him into the duties of the office. 
 
 Abraham quickly grasped what was expected of him, and 
 soon evidenced that he could fill the position in a satisfactory 
 manner. At intervals during the day the voting was slow and 
 things dragged. In one of these periods a man came up, and 
 announced his candidate in a loud voice, saying — as young Lin- 
 coln recorded his vote : 
 
 "And I wish I had every vote in the county to give to Jack 
 White." 
 
 "That reminds me of a man in Spencer County, who raised 
 the biggest hog in Indiana," spoke Abraham dryly. "It was 
 a famous animal, and people from far and near came to see 
 him. One day a man came and asked to see the hog. 
 
 1 'We air chargin' two bits now for the privilege,' said the 
 owner. 
 
 "The man paid the money then got into his wagon. 
 
 " 'Hey! don't you want to see the hog?' yelled the farmer. 
 
 ' 'No,' said the stranger. 'I've seen the biggest hog in In- 
 diana and I don't want to look at a smaller one.' ' 
 
 The voter joined in the good-natured laugh at his expense 
 which this raised, and the crowd closed in about the polling- 
 place, aroused to new interest. It was but the beginning for 
 Abraham. Whenever things slowed up he would begin to "spin 
 Indiana yarns," to the great delight of the loiterers who lis- 
 tened to them with keenest relish. So witty were these tales that 
 
"HONEST ABE" 127 
 
 many were told and retold long afterwards to the friends of 
 those who heard them that day. In a community where every 
 man knows all his neighbor's history, and has heard everybody 
 else's favorite story a new-comer is welcomed with enthusiasm; 
 especially if he has a stock of fresh jokes and anecdotes. So 
 Abraham Lincoln's story-telling established him in the good 
 graces of New Salem at once. 
 
 When the polls were closed the clerk thanked him for his 
 services, and congratulated him on the ability with which he 
 had discharged his duties and entertained the crowd. 
 
 "What is your name?" he asked. "Mine is Mentor Graham. 
 I am the school-master." 
 
 "Howdy, Mr. Graham," said Abraham extending his hand. 
 "I'm Abraham Lincoln." 
 
 "Going to live here, Mr. Lincoln?" The school-master shook 
 his hand warmly as he asked the question. 
 
 "I reckon so. I am to be the clerk in Mr. Offutt's new store. 
 But say! folks mostly call me Abe." 
 
 "All right, Abe." Mr. Graham laughed and shook hands 
 again. "I am glad that you are going to be among us. You 
 couldn't have come to a better place. We're going to have a 
 big city here some day. It's bound to come. The Sangamon 
 Country is the Canaan of America, and that will bring settlers. 
 Indeed, the name Sangamon is a word of the Pottawatomies 
 meaning Land of Plenty." 
 
 "Glad to hear it," laughed Abraham. "My appetite is down- 
 right healthy. It takes a lot of fodder to satisfy it." 
 
 "I should think it would." Mr. Graham glanced quizzically 
 up and down the young man's length. "How tall are you?" 
 
 "Six feet, four. I come from the tall timber." 
 
 It was the beginning of a warm friendship between the 
 
128 LINCOLN 
 
 two ; the first of many friendships that Abraham Lincoln made 
 in New Salem. Dennis Offutt had not appeared during the 
 day; nor did he show up for many days thereafter. Abraham 
 spent the time of waiting for his arrival in strolling about the 
 village getting acquainted. He found that the place contained 
 a blacksmith, a turner, a hatter, a preacher, and two doctors. 
 He was later to learn that if inhabitants were few they were 
 energetic, and that there were some cultured people among 
 them. Indeed, the life of New Salem was to exert a marked 
 influence upon his development. Providence could not have as- 
 signed him to a more favorable place. 
 
 Though it was pleasant to make acquaintances the time of 
 waiting was irksome, and Abraham was glad when Mentor 
 Graham threw a chance in his way to pilot a flatboat contain- 
 ing the family and household goods of a Doctor Nelson, 
 who was leaving the village for Texas, through the Sanga- 
 mon to the Illinois River as far as Beardstown. He conducted 
 the boat through safely, and on arriving at Beardstown left 
 it, and returned to New Salem on foot across the sand and 
 hills. 
 
 Offutt with his goods had come at last, and the two set at 
 once to work upon getting the store ready for business. It was 
 opened in a little log-house on the brow of the hill overlooking 
 the river. It was a general store, and on its shelves were found 
 all the articles needed in a pioneer community. 
 
 The store soon became a social centre for the men of the 
 village. They remembered the stories the young fellow had 
 told on Election Day, and were eager for more. It was not 
 long before Abraham had established a reputation for droll 
 stories and pithy anecdotes, but the loungers about the store 
 
"HONEST ABE" 129 
 
 quickly found that there was more to Offutt's clerk than jokes 
 and stories. 
 
 After the business of the day was over men gathered in 
 the store, and, seated on the tops of kegs, the protruding ends 
 of dry-goods boxes, and the counters that stretched on each 
 side of the room, carried on discussions on politics, religion, 
 sports, and the affairs of the Universe in general. In all of 
 these the young man held his own, expressing his views with 
 so much clarity and cogency that the villagers began to say 
 that Abe Lincoln was as "smart as they make 'em; that some 
 day he would make his mark." 
 
 But if Abraham Lincoln had established himself in the good 
 graces of the people by his drollery and ability to discuss af- 
 fairs of state, he was also gaining their confidence in another 
 way. One day he sold a small bill of goods, amounting in value, 
 by the reckoning, to two dollars and six and a quarter cents. 
 He received the money, and the woman went away. According 
 to his usual custom Abraham went over the goods sold during 
 the day each night before closing, adding the items of every 
 bill sold to make sure of correctness. That night when he came 
 to the two dollars six and a quarter cents bill he found that he 
 had charged her too much. Several times he went over the bill 
 but each time with the same result : he had charged her six and 
 a quarter cents too much. It was late, and Mrs. Kelso, the 
 woman who had bought the goods, lived two miles down the 
 village road, but closing and locking the store, the young man 
 set forth for the house. Mrs. Kelso came to the door in answer 
 to his knock. 
 
 "Why, howdy, Abram," she cried. "Come in! It ain't often 
 that you find time to visit us." 
 
130 LINCOLN 
 
 "I didn't come to visit, Mrs. Kelso. I came about that bill 
 of goods you bought today." 
 
 "Land sakes, Abram! What was the matter with that bill? 
 Didn't I pay you enough?" 
 
 "You paid too much. Six and a quarter cents too much." 
 
 "Well, since the Lord made little apples! Did you come all 
 the way out here just to pay me six and a quarter cents? Why 
 didn't you wait until I came in again?" 
 
 "I couldn't. Whenever I wrong anybody I want to make it 
 right just as soon as I find out about it. I can't go on with my 
 work unless I do. I can't rest easy." 
 
 "Well, I do know, I never saw such a boy! Come in, and 
 sit a spell, Abram." 
 
 "It's too late tonight, Mrs. Kelso; but I will come soon." 
 
 "Do, Abram. We're always glad to have you. Good night!" 
 
 This, and other instances of like nature brought him into 
 high esteem in New Salem. Men said that his word was as 
 good as gold, and that his weights were as true as steel. This 
 unusual regard for the rights of others soon won him the title 
 of "Honest Abe"; a title that clung to him through life. 
 
 But along with his ever-present desire to deal honestly and 
 justly with others was the overwhelming longing for knowl- 
 edge. He had had little leisure for study since leaving Indiana, 
 though there had been much opportunity for the observation 
 of men and life. When the store was fairly under way, there- 
 fore, he began to look about for books. When he was not busy 
 he stretched out on the counter with a bolt of jeans or calico 
 under his head, book in hand, and read. Or, weather permit- 
 ting, he lay prone upon the ground under a wide-spreading oak 
 tree that stood just without the door. 
 
 Such eagerness to learn was so unusual that the whole vil- 
 
"HONEST ABE" 131 
 
 lage became interested, and helped him in every possible way. 
 Those who had books loaned them to him willingly; the 
 school-master, Mentor Graham, helped solve any difficulty that 
 he encountered, and the village cooper let him come into his 
 shop and keep up a fire of shavings to read by at night for as 
 long as he pleased. 
 
 Dennis Offutt was inordinately proud of his clerk. So highly 
 did he esteem his business ability that he rented the Rutledge 
 and Cameron Mill at the foot of the hill, and placed Abraham 
 in charge of that also. William G. Greene was hired to assist 
 him in the store, and between the two a strong friendship de- 
 veloped. A good thing; for the young men slept together in 
 the back of the store, and so small was the bed that when one 
 turned over the other had to do likewise. 
 
 As had been said Dennis Offutt was proud of his clerk. 
 Proud of his studious habits, his greed for information, his 
 thorough mastery of the difficulties of any new position in 
 which he was placed, his intelligence touching matters of pub- 
 lic concern, his story-telling, and, above all, his great athletic 
 power. So proud was he that, while really a sincere admirer of 
 Abraham, he praised him beyond reason. He declared the 
 county over that "Abe knew more than anybody else in the 
 United States — that he was sure to be President some day, and 
 that he could beat any man in the county running, jumping, or 
 'wrastling.' " Such boasting was unwise, as was soon evidenced, 
 but he seemed to feel "that his clerk's physical powers reflected 
 glory on himself." 
 
 There was near the village a settlement called "Clary's 
 Grove Boys," a band of rowdies who exercised a veritable reign 
 of terror over the neighborhood, and yet who possessed some 
 redeeming qualities. They were friendly and good-natured, 
 
132 LINCOLN 
 
 and quick to aid a poor man, a widow, or an orphan; though 
 their methods of securing the means for such giving were often 
 open to question. "They were rude, swaggering, boisterous, 
 and tremendous fighters.'' A stranger's introduction to them 
 was apt to be most unpleasant. It was unlikely that such a 
 crowd would stand quietly by and listen to Offutt's boasts that 
 his clerk could lift more, throw farther, run faster, jump 
 higher, and wrestle better than any man in Sangamon County. 
 
 One day he was boasting as usual: declaring that he defied 
 New Salem and the entire world to produce Abraham Lin- 
 coln's equal, when Bill Clary, one of "Clary's Grove Boys," 
 stepped up, and entered into a heated dispute with him on the 
 matter. 
 
 "See here, Offutt," he ended by saying, "we've been hearing 
 that kind of talk for about three months now. It's time for a 
 showdown. Honors are not worn in New Salem until they are 
 won. Now I'll bet you ten dollars that Jack Armstrong is a 
 better man than Abe Lincoln, and that he can throw him any 
 day." 
 
 "Done," cried Offutt quickly. "How about it, Abe?" 
 
 "I don't want any of that kind of woolling and pulling," 
 answered young Lincoln to whom the whole matter was most 
 embarrassing. 
 
 "Oh, wrastle him, Abe," exclaimed several voices at once. As 
 soon as it became known that a heated argument was afoot 
 between Offutt and Clary men knew what it portended, and 
 gathered in the store for the outcome. 
 
 "I don't like tussling and scuffling," protested Abraham. 
 
 In the end, however, his objections were over-ruled. Dennis 
 Offutt had gone too far. There had been so much boasting that 
 the time had come when Abraham had to show his mettle. 
 
"HONEST ABE" 133 
 
 The Salemites were eager for the fray. Too many of them 
 had suffered from the depredations of the gang not to welcome 
 a chance for their champion's overthrow. Once or twice a week 
 the "Boys" descended upon the village to "clean it up," passing 
 the time in drinking, fighting, and brutal horseplay. If Offutt's 
 clerk could throw the champion it might be that it would hold 
 such pastimes in check. So the villagers clamored for the con- 
 test, and the matter ended by arranging a wrestling match, that 
 was to be a friendly bout, between Abraham Lincoln and Jack 
 Armstrong, the champion of the Grove. 
 
 At the appointed time Clary's Grove and New Salem turned 
 out generally to witness the bout which was to be held on 
 ground near the store. Young Lincoln was now six feet four 
 inches high, and weighed two hundred and fourteen pounds. 
 Jack Armstrong was square-built, and strong as an ox. As 
 soon as the two young men entered the ring formed by the 
 crowd everybody knew that a contest between them would be 
 close. As soon as they had taken hold of each other it was evi- 
 dent that the stalwart young Kentuckian was a match for the 
 champion of Clary's Grove. Neither could throw the other. 
 Seeing this Armstrong, in desperation, resorted to foul play. 
 An injustice of any kind always stung young Lincoln into 
 indignation; so now, mighty in his wrath, he seized the bully 
 by the throat, with both hands, and holding him out at arms 
 length, he "shook him like a child." For a moment a general 
 fight seemed imminent as Armstrong's friends swarmed to his 
 aid. But Abraham, with his back against the store, awaited 
 their onset so calmly that the gang halted, filled with an in- 
 voluntary admiration at his brave front. As to Armstrong, as 
 soon as he could regain his breath, he seized Lincoln's hand, 
 crying: 
 
134 LINCOLN 
 
 "Boys, Abe Lincoln is the best fellow that ever broke into 
 this settlement!" And what bid fair to be a general fight ended 
 in a general hand-shaking. 
 
 From that day he had no truer friends and allies than Jack 
 Armstrong, his wife Hannah, and the Clary's Grove people. 
 They rallied to his support when he needed friends, and, years 
 later, he saved the life of Jack's son from the gallows. 
 
 And, so true is it that muscular prowess is esteemed more 
 highly than intellectual attainments, the incident gave him a 
 name and standing of his own. He did not have to be constantly 
 scuffling to guard his self-respect. At the same time he gained 
 the good will of the better element by showing that though he 
 had the strength of a young giant he was peaceable and not 
 inclined to use it save in the interest of decency and order. 
 Every one trusted him. He became by general consent the 
 peacemaker, the arbitrator of all the petty quarrels of the 
 neighborhood. He was the umpire in all disputes, games, and 
 matches of all sorts. He never played cards, nor gambled, nor 
 smoked, nor used profane language, nor used liquor in any 
 form. A strange record for a young man among people ad- 
 dicted to these customs. In order to keep in practice in debating 
 he walked seven or eight miles to the debating clubs of the 
 countryside. "Practicing Polemics," he called the exercise. 
 
 "But what is it all for, Abraham?" asked Mentor Graham 
 one evening as the two walked down the street towards the 
 latter's home where Abraham was to pass the night. "Why all 
 this study, and 'practicing polemics,' as you call it? What use 
 do you intend to make of such knowledge?" 
 
 "Well," answered young Lincoln slowly. "I've thought 
 about going before the public some day. I've talked with men 
 who were called great men, Candidates for Office and a few 
 
"HONEST ABE" 135 
 
 State Officers, you know. They don't seem to differ much from 
 the rest of us. Perhaps in time I can make myself great too." 
 
 "That is true," replied the schoolmaster. "To my mind the 
 difference between great men and other men is that great men 
 exercise more common sense in dealing with things than other 
 men. Now you have common sense to an unusual degree, and 
 you exercise judgment in your dealings with others. You can 
 go far, if you choose. Farther than any one else in the com- 
 munity. But see here, Abraham! if you are going before the 
 public you ought to study Grammar. It is the Science of Lan- 
 guage, and you need it. In general, your language is good. 
 You have unconsciously imbibed a knowledge of the construc- 
 tion of sentences from your reading so that you avoid glaring 
 errors. But there are others which cannot be detected without 
 a knowledge of Grammar, and to be a master of speech, both 
 written and oral, one must know the Science of Language." 
 
 "But where can I get a grammar? There ain't any in the 
 neighborhood that I can find. I have asked." 
 
 "There is but one in the community, Abraham, and Mr. 
 Vaner, who lives six miles from town, has it." 
 
 "Well, I'll go out and get it," commented Abraham. 
 
 "You mean you'll try to get it," corrected Mr. Graham. 
 
 "No, I meant that I would get it," replied young Lincoln. 
 
 He did. He rose the next morning from the breakfast table, 
 walked the six miles, and borrowed the book. From that time 
 on for weeks he gave every moment of time that he could to 
 mastering the contents of the volume. Frequently he asked his 
 friend and co-worker Greene to hold the book while he recited. 
 When puzzled by a point he went to consult Mentor Graham. 
 
 Kirkham's Grammar was a small, thin book, bound in brown 
 sheepskin. The principles of the subject were expounded in 
 
136 LINCOLN 
 
 familiar lectures, following the order of nature; that is, the 
 noun and verb were dealt with first, and the other parts of 
 speech as one would naturally come to them. It was not long 
 before young Lincoln had mastered its contents. 
 
 "Well," he remarked to his fellow-clerk, Greene, "if that's 
 what they call a science, I think I'll go at another." 
 
 So the winter passed, and spring came. The great meadows 
 were springing into being, and a joyous tumult of bird song 
 filled the woods. All Nature was waking to life and color. But 
 the beauty of the springtime brought no answering joy to the 
 heart of Abraham Lincoln. It found him face to face with a 
 perplexing problem. The mill had closed up, the business of 
 the store was rapidly falling off, and it was but a question of 
 time before it too would be closed. The affairs of Dennis Offutt 
 were in a bad way, due to the fact that he had undertaken too 
 man}^ enterprises with the usual result of too many irons in 
 the fire. With the store closed Abraham told himself that he 
 would once more be a piece of "floating driftwood." 
 
 He was by this time the most popular young man in New 
 Salem. He was everybody's friend. His quaint odd ways and 
 unwearying good-nature had endeared him to the people so 
 that they loved and trusted him. At this time it was said of him 
 that "Abe Lincoln had nothing, only plenty of friends." But 
 a man with plenty of friends is rich indeed. 
 
 So many of these friends credited him with possessing more 
 knowledge than most members of the community, and had so 
 often remarked that he could fill any office in the gift of the 
 people, that he began seriously to consider trying for a public 
 position. One day while he was idly arranging some goods on 
 the counter his friend and fellow-clerk, William Greene, came 
 to his side. 
 
"HONEST ABE'' 137 
 
 "What are you doing, Abe?" he queried. "There's no use 
 fixing up things. The store will close soon anyway." 
 
 "Yes; I know it's petering out," rejoined Abraham continu- 
 ing to arrange the goods. "Still, this gives me something to 
 do. Besides, I'm thinking." 
 
 "About what you will do?" asked Greene. "I've been won- 
 dering about it too. As for myself, father wants me to come 
 home to help him, and I reckon I'll go. But what are you going 
 to do, Abe?" 
 
 "I don't know, Bill. At present I'm just a piece of drift- 
 wood." 
 
 "Abe, why don't you run for the Legislature? There is to be 
 one elected this fall, you know?" 
 
 Abraham leaned suddenly against the counter, gazing at his 
 friend thoughtfully. 
 
 "I reckon that would be pretty bold," he said at length. 
 "But I'd like to try it, Bill. I would so." 
 
 "Then do it. A lot of us have talked it over, and we think you 
 could fill that or any other office," spoke Greene earnestly. 
 "And right here and now I'll promise you my vote and to do 
 all I can for you." 
 
 "Thank you, Bill. I know I can count on you. But it will be 
 following a Kentucky precedent sure enough." 
 
 "How's that? I'm a Kentuckian, but I don't remember the 
 precedent you refer to." 
 
 "Why, when a Kentuckian comes into a new State, he al- 
 ways asks — 'What office have you vacant?' Well, I'll try for 
 the Legislature, though I haven't been in the State quite a 
 year. Most likely I shall be beaten, but trying don't hurt any- 
 body. I'll try it." 
 
 To his delight many of his friends encouraged the idea of 
 
138 LINCOLN 
 
 his becoming a candidate for the General Assembly; so, March 
 9th, 1832, he issued a circular announcing himself as a candi- 
 date. All that was required at this time to become a candidate 
 was the mere announcement of the fact accompanied by a state- 
 ment of a man's opinions regarding local affairs. Lincoln's 
 circular was a document containing about two thousand words. 
 He stated modestly his standing on the leading questions of 
 the day: the public utility of internal improvements, — a sub- 
 ject dear to the hearts of his constituents; railroads, education, 
 and usury. All these opinions were set forth clearly and simply. 
 And then, as though he realized the audacity of a young man 
 of his position and age — he was but twenty-three — presenting 
 himself as a candidate for the highest law-making body in the 
 State, he closed the paper with humility : 
 
 "But, fellow-citizens, I shall conclude. Considering the de- 
 gree of modesty which should always attend youth, it is prob- 
 able that I have already been more presuming than becomes 
 me. However, upon the subjects of which I have treated, I 
 have spoken as I thought. I may be wrong with regard to any 
 or all of them; but, holding it a sound maxim that it is better 
 only sometimes to be right than at all times to be wrong, so 
 soon as I discover my opinions to be erroneous, I shall be ready 
 to renounce them. 
 
 "Every man is said to have his peculiar ambition. Whether 
 it be true or not, I can say, for one, that I have no other so 
 great as that of being truly esteemed of my fellow-men, by 
 rendering myself worthy of their esteem. How far I shall suc- 
 ceed in gratifying this ambition is yet to be developed. I am 
 young, and unknown to many of you. I was born, and have 
 ever remained, in the most humble walks of life. I have no 
 wealthy, or popular relatives or friends to recommend me. My 
 
"HONEST ABE" 139 
 
 case is thrown exclusively upon the independent voters of this 
 county; and, if elected, they will have conferred a favor upon 
 me which I shall be unremitting in my labors to compensate. 
 But if the good people in their wisdom shall see fit to keep 
 me in the background, I have been too familiar with disap- 
 pointments to be very much chagrined." 
 
 The circular was received with great satisfaction by the 
 citizens of New Salem. Young Lincoln was a Whig in politics, 
 but Democrats as well as Whigs rallied to his support because 
 of their personal liking for him. A month of lively campaign- 
 ing ensued, and then one day in April the little village was 
 thrown into the greatest excitement when a messenger rode 
 into it, crying hoarsely as he distributed handbills : 
 
 "Black Hawk has crossed the Mississippi, and is on the war- 
 path. Settlers are fleeing for their lives. The Governor calls 
 for volunteers to defend the State." 
 
-sJ 
 
 cpy* 
 
 CHAPTER ELEVEN 
 
 AN UNEXPECTED HONOR 
 
 Instantly all was commotion, and men came running from 
 every side to learn particulars. 
 
 Black Hawk's name was one that was well known to the 
 people of the State. It was one that struck terror to the hearts 
 of the settlers of northwestern Illinois, and his raids had long 
 been a menace to the peace of the frontiers. The land of the 
 Rock River country had formerly belonged to the great Indian 
 chief and his tribe, but in 1804 it had been sold to the United 
 States. It contained the sacred village of the Sacs near which 
 lay their ancient burial ground, and it irked the old chief that 
 settlers of another race should dwell among the graves of his 
 fathers. Often the urge of his own heart and the bad counsels 
 of other chiefs induced him to try to regain the land by driving 
 out the settlers, which resulted in frequent clashes between 
 them. Brooding constantly upon his wrongs, fancied and real, 
 — for there were undoubtedly acts of violence upon the part 
 of the whites as well as upon his own, — the chief had persuaded 
 himself that the "village had never been sold — indeed, that 
 land could not be sold." 
 
 140 
 
AN UNEXPECTED HONOR 141 
 
 Acting upon this belief, and encouraged by vague promises 
 of assistance from several other tribes, he crossed over to the 
 east side of the Mississippi River, in the Spring of 1831, with 
 a large band of warriors. The tribes which had promised aid 
 failed him, however, when the time of trial came, and General 
 Gaines with a detachment of regulars assisted by an improvised 
 force of volunteers had little difficulty in compelling the In- 
 dians to recross the Mississippi, and to enter into a solemn 
 treaty by which the former treaties were ratified and Black 
 Hawk and his warriors bound themselves never again to set 
 foot on the east side of the river without express permission 
 from the President of the United States or the Governor of 
 Illinois. 
 
 The treaty was his own act, but scarcely had he reached 
 the other side of the river than he repented making it. Believ- 
 ing that if he should make a determined effort to drive out the 
 whites from his land the Ottawas, Winnebagoes, Chippewas, 
 and Pottawatomies would join him in the struggle, he be- 
 gan to make plans to break his compact. After a winter of 
 preparation he crossed the river again on the 6th of April, 
 1832, accompanied by five hundred warriors on horse- 
 back; and marched up the Rock River, while his women 
 and children went up the river in canoes. The settlers were 
 fleeing, panic-stricken, before him, for his march was one 
 of death and destruction. It was this emergency which 
 had caused Governor Reynolds to send out a call for volun- 
 teers. 
 
 At the beginning of the excitement young Lincoln and the 
 men to whom he had been talking had entered the crowd about 
 the messenger, and as the latter began to call for volunteers, 
 he turned to his friend, William Greene. 
 
142 LINCOLN 
 
 "Come on, Bill," he said. "Offutt will be glad to be rid of 
 us, and the State needs us." 
 
 "All right, Abe," responded young Greene. 
 
 The enlisting of the two young men was promptly followed 
 by a number of others, and then amid the cheering of the peo- 
 ple the enlisted men began their preparations for departure. 
 There was no time to lose as the volunteers were ordered to 
 assemble at Beardstown, nearly forty miles from New Salem, 
 on the 22nd of April, and that date was but a few days distant. 
 As soon as their preparations were completed they took up 
 their march for Beardstown, presenting a motley appearance; 
 for the volunteers were obliged to furnish their own equipment 
 — horses, saddles, rifles, blankets — so no two were equipped 
 alike. At Richland, Sangamon County, they were attached 
 to Colonel Samuel Thompson's regiment, and at once pro- 
 ceeded to an election of officers. At this time the volunteer com- 
 panies were conducted in the most democratic manner, and the 
 method of electing officers was simple in the extreme. 
 
 Assembling on the village green the chairman of the com- 
 mittee chosen to take the matter in hand brought the company 
 to order by saying: 
 
 "Now, boys, the first thing is to name your candidates for 
 captain." 
 
 Many of the company were from New Salem and Clary's 
 Grove and now their influence was felt. As the chairman fin- 
 ished speaking Abraham Lincoln was amazed as a shout went 
 up: 
 
 "We want Abe Lincoln!" "Give us Honest Abe for cap- 
 tain!" 
 
 From another contingent, however, arose an answering cry 
 of "Kirkpatrick!" "We want William Kirkpatrick!" 
 
AN UNEXPECTED HONOR 143 
 
 As there were no other candidates the chairman asked the 
 chosen two if they were willing to be considered. Young Lin- 
 coln, though he felt that he had no special fitness for the office, 
 consented; as did Kirkpatrick. 
 
 Now Kirkpatrick was one of the most influential men in 
 Sangamon County, and Abraham Lincoln but an humble clerk 
 in a store. Young Lincoln would not have given much for his 
 chance of election. 
 
 "The candidates will take their places on the green, one on 
 one side; the other on the other side," instructed the chairman. 
 "At the order 'March!' you men are to go and stand by the 
 one you want for captain." 
 
 As soon as young Lincoln and his competitor had taken their 
 places the command rang out: "March!" 
 
 To Lincoln's surprise and delight three out of every four 
 came to his side at once. When those who had gone to Kirk- 
 patrick saw that Lincoln was the choice of the company they 
 left their places, one by one, and went over to the successful 
 side. Immediately there rose a shout of, "Three cheers for 
 Captain Lincoln. Now with a will, boys!" 
 
 An expression of pure pleasure spread over young Lincoln's 
 face. In all his after successes not one gave him the satisfaction 
 that this election did. It was the first official trust that he had 
 ever held, and he prized it and the distinction it gave him 
 highly. After the cheers were given he made a modest speech 
 of acceptance, expressing his appreciation of the honor they 
 had done him, and declaring that he would do his best to merit 
 the confidence they had placed in him. 
 
 At Beardstown, Colonel Thompson's regiment, the Fourth 
 Illinois, to which Captain Lincoln's company was attached, 
 started northward with the rest of the command under General 
 
144 LINCOLN 
 
 Whiteside for Yellow Banks, on the Mississippi. It was ar- 
 duous marching. The weather, with the fickleness of spring, 
 had turned cold, the roads were soft and heavy, the streams 
 turbulent and swollen from the spring freshets; but these dif- 
 ficulties presented no serious obstacles to backwoodsmen accus- 
 tomed to facing Nature in her sternest moods. 
 
 Of course on the march Captain Lincoln drilled his men, 
 and gave them such military instruction as he was able to im- 
 part, but he was finding his office no sinecure. The men were a 
 hard set, with as little regard for discipline as they had for 
 appearances, and were as likely to jeer at it when the new 
 captain gave an order as to obey it. Young Lincoln himself 
 made many blunders, being unfamiliar with military tactics, 
 being hard put sometimes to remember the proper commands. 
 
 One morning he was marching at the head of his company, 
 who were following in a line of twenty abreast. All went well 
 until presently the young captain saw before him a gate 
 much narrower than the line through which it was necessary 
 to pass. For the life of him he could not recall the right order 
 to turn the company endwise. The situation was decidedly em- 
 barassing, when all at once there came to him an inspiration. 
 Facing the lines, he shouted : 
 
 "Halt ! This company will break ranks for two minutes and 
 form again on the other side of the gate." 
 
 Laughing, shouting, pleased with the quick wit of their cap- 
 tain the men broke ranks, rushed through the gate, and formed 
 on the other side. There were other troubles, too, but the men 
 became fond of their captain, and obeyed him because they ad- 
 mired him. 
 
 As soon as some provisions for which they waited arrived at 
 Yellow Banks the army of volunteers marched to the mouth 
 
AN UNEXPECTED HONOR 145 
 
 of Rock River, and thence General Whiteside proceeded with 
 them some ninety miles up the river to Dixon where they went 
 into camp to await the arrival of General Atkinson with the 
 regular troops and provisions. Near here occurred the first 
 bloodshed of the war. 
 
 At Dixon there were two battalions of mounted volunteers, 
 under Majors Stillman and Bailey, who had as yet seen no 
 service, and were eager for the fray. They entreated Governor 
 Reynolds, who had accompanied the volunteers under General 
 Whiteside, to let them go in search of a band of hostile In- 
 dians who were supposed to be encamped some twelve miles 
 distant, and coerce them into submission. 
 
 The required permission was given, and they rode merrily 
 away. Some hours later they returned panic-stricken having 
 been chased in disorder from the field of battle by Black Hawk 
 himself, leaving eleven of their number behind them dead. 
 General Whiteside marched out to the scene of the disaster the 
 next morning, but the Indians were gone. The wily savages 
 pushed on up the river, breaking into predatory and foraging 
 bands, massacring peaceful settlers, and burning their dwell- 
 ings. 
 
 After burying the dead the troops pursued the Indians, but 
 it was like pursuing a shadow. The savages purposely con- 
 fused their trail, and it seemed impossible to bring Black Hawk 
 to a fight, though terrible evidences of their presence were left 
 behind them — deserted and burned homes, slaughtered cattle, 
 and scalps hung where the army could see them. These atroci- 
 ties exasperated the volunteers, and they grew dissatisfied. 
 They had come out to fight Indians, and lo ! there were no In- 
 dians to fight. The officers had difficulty in holding them. 
 
 It was while the men were in this ugly mood that one day 
 
146 LINCOLN 
 
 an aged Indian, half-starved and helpless, came into the camp 
 of Lincoln's company while the young captain was asleep. As 
 soon as the men saw him they rushed forward and seized him, 
 shouting, 
 
 "Here's a redskin! Let's kill him!" 
 
 Trembling the old savage drew from under his blanket a 
 letter which he handed to the leader. It proved to be a safe 
 conduct from General Cass, recommending the bearer for his 
 faithful service to the whites. As the leader read it aloud a cry 
 of derision went up from the men. 
 
 "Stuff," cried one, "the letter is a forgery!" 
 
 "He is a spy," cried another. "Make an example of him." 
 
 The Indian drew his blanket around him and folded his 
 arms. "I have never done the white man harm," he said with 
 dignity. "I come but for a little food, and then to go my way." 
 
 "Don't listen to him, boys," cried another. "He's a spy. 
 The only good Indian is a dead one. Look what the reds have 
 done to our people !" 
 
 This cry inflamed the men to fever heat, and amid shouts 
 of "Kill him!" "Kill him!" a number levelled their muskets at 
 the hapless old savage. 
 
 At this instant young Lincoln, who had been aroused by 
 the commotion, burst excitedly into the group, and throwing 
 up their levelled muskets, cried : 
 
 "Boys, you shall not do this thing! It must not be done." 
 
 The soldiers began to jeer, but the young captain, inter- 
 posing his tall form between them and the old Indian, faced 
 them resolutely. 
 
 "You shall not do this thing," he repeated. "He came here 
 trusting to our faith." 
 
AN UNEXPECTED HONOR 147 
 
 "Ah! the Indians don't keep their faith. He's a spy! Stand 
 aside, or we'll shoot him through your body." 
 
 "That's the only way you can do it, boys. I'll never stand 
 aside. Right is right, and it is not right that you should shoot 
 this old man. I'd rather be shot than let you do it." 
 
 Never had the men seen Lincoln so roused. They had learned 
 that he would permit no dishonorable action, and that when 
 he said a thing he meant it. Now, as he stood before them his 
 face "swarthy with rage and resolution," they knew that he 
 would let himself be killed rather than have the trust of a 
 savage betrayed. In their hearts they knew that he was right. 
 He had endeared himself to them not only by his personal 
 qualities, but by his care for their welfare. For a long moment 
 they maintained their belligerent attitudes, then lowered their 
 rifles, and turned sullenly away. 
 
 "Come," said the young captain to the Indian. "I will give 
 you food, and then you shall go your way." 
 
 The old Indian bowed before him. 
 
 "You are good," he said. "Were all white men like you the 
 hatchet would not have been raised between the red man and 
 the white. The Great Spirit dwells in a just man." 
 
 After this Lincoln's hold on his men was stronger, but many 
 of them, as well as other of the volunteers were exceedingly dis- 
 satisfied. There seemed no prospect either for glory or profit, 
 and they were weary of the "work and hunger which were the 
 only certain incidents of the campaign." By the time the pur- 
 suit of the Indians had led them to Ottawa, their dissatisfaction 
 had become so great that Governor Reynolds mustered out all 
 of the volunteers. But a force in the field was absolutely essen- 
 tial to aid the regulars. Black Hawk was still unsubdued, and 
 
148 LINCOLN 
 
 it seemed to young Lincoln that it was his simple duty to serve 
 until the State was made safe for the settlers. So on the same 
 day that he was mustered out he reenlisted as a private soldier. 
 Many other officers did the same, among them General White- 
 side and Major Stuart. 
 
 Young Lincoln became a private in Captain Elijah Ues's 
 Company of Independent Rangers, — a company made up of 
 generals, colonels, captains and distinguished men from the 
 disbanded army. The Independent Rangers were a favored 
 body, used to carry messages and to spy on the enemy. They 
 had no camp duties, and "drew rations as often as they 
 pleased." So that Lincoln was really better off as a private 
 than he had been as a captain. 
 
 There followed a whole month of marching and maneuver- 
 ing without satisfactory results. Here, there, and everywhere 
 the Indians led them. The business of pursuing the savages was 
 grim and gruesome enough, so when in camp, to beguile its 
 tedium, the men indulged in games and athletic sports which 
 soldiers love. Lincoln entered into these amusements with great 
 zest, and became exceedingly popular among his fellows in 
 consequence of his unfailing good-nature, and his ability to 
 tell more stories and better ones than any man in the service. 
 He was popular also on account of his great physical strength. 
 Wrestling was an everyday amusement, in which Lincoln 
 had but one superior in the army. One Thompson from Union 
 County excelled him, though the soldiers blamed Lincoln when 
 he acknowledged the fact, declaring that Thompson resorted 
 to foul tactics when he threw him. 
 
 It was the middle of June when Captain lies and his com- 
 pany returned to Dixon's Ferry, and were mustered out. There 
 had been a little fighting but there was not enough of excite- 
 
AN UNEXPECTED HONOR 149 
 
 merit and success to keep the restless spirit of the volunteers 
 contented. On June 20th Lincoln was mustered in again as a 
 member of an independent company under Captain Jacob M. 
 Early. 
 
 Soon after reenlisting Lincoln's company moved northward 
 with the army. Black Hawk was overrunning the country, 
 scattering death and desolation wherever he went. The settlers 
 were wild with fear, and most of the settlements were aban- 
 doned. 
 
 Soon after the army moved up Rock River, the independent 
 spy company of which Lincoln was a member, was sent with 
 a brigade to the northwest near Galena to reinforce a squad of 
 outposts which were thought to be in danger. They arrived just 
 after a skirmish had taken place. The Indians had surprised 
 the camp, and had killed and scalped every man. 
 
 It was just sunrise when the reinforcing party rode up the 
 little hill on which the camp had been made. The red light of 
 the morning sun was streaming upon the dead, and young Lin- 
 coln saw them all lying with their heads towards the advanc- 
 ing party, and the round red spots where they had been scalped 
 gleaming redly in the sun. It was frightful, but it was gro- 
 tesque; and the red sunlight seemed to paint everything with 
 its ruddy glow. It was the nearest to an engagement that he 
 ever came, and the only time that he saw blood during the 
 campaign. He could never afterwards recall the vivid picture 
 without a shudder. 
 
 Northward still the army marched in pursuit of the nearly 
 exhausted Black Hawk ; floundering through swamps, cutting 
 their way through dense forests, or stumbling over the rank 
 growth of the prairies. Early's company had the scouting to 
 do, and it was hard service. Finally the provisions gave out, and 
 
150 LINCOLN 
 
 the situation became difficult for both the regulars and the vol- 
 unteers. It was determined to disband the volunteers. There 
 had been several skirmishes but the fighting was practically 
 over. The last battle — that of Bad Axe — crushed Black 
 Hawk's power and put an end to his aggressions forever. 
 Therefore, on the 10th of July, young Lincoln's company was 
 mustered out at Whitewater, Wisconsin. 
 
 The men were in high spirits as they received their dis- 
 charges, and planned a merry and quick journey to their 
 homes. On the morning they were to start, however, as young 
 Lincoln was getting ready, his messmate, George W. Harrison, 
 rushed in, and flung himself dejectedly upon the cot. 
 
 "Abe," he exclaimed in woebegone accents, "what do you 
 think? Our horses have been stolen." 
 
 "Stolen?" ejaculated Lincoln dismayed. For a moment he 
 stood without speaking, and then he remarked quietly: "Well, 
 George, it must have been by fellows who were in a greater 
 hurry than we are to get home. We'll have to use Shanks' mare, 
 I reckon." 
 
 "Shanks' mare for three hundred miles, Abe?" 
 
 "If we had met up with Black Hawk it might have been 
 Death's mare for eternity, George." 
 
 "That's so. Well, let the other fellows have the beasts. We'll 
 get home anyway." 
 
 So with light hearts they started homeward. The other men 
 of the company who had horses were generous, and walked 
 and rode by turns with Abraham and his messmate, beguiling 
 the way through forest and prairie with jokes and stories. 
 
 Often they were hungry; food was scarce; the settlers had 
 abandoned their crops in fleeing before the Indians; and the 
 latter had destroyed them. Therefore, the returning soldiers 
 
AN UNEXPECTED HONOR 151 
 
 were compelled to live on corn meal mixed with water, and 
 baked over a fire in rolls of bark. 
 
 At Peoria young Lincoln and Harrison bought a canoe, 
 and paddled down the Illinois River to Havana where they 
 sold it, and once more began their tramp over the sand-ridges 
 toward New Salem. All at once as they neared the village 
 Abraham found himself almost running. He checked himself 
 as he found his companion pantingly trying to keep up with 
 him. 
 
 "I'm sorry, George," he said contritely. "But over the next 
 ridge is New Salem. I feel as though I could not get there 
 quickly enough." 
 
CHAPTER TWELVE 
 
 POSTMASTER AND SURVEYOR 
 
 When a man has been absent from familiar scenes for a few 
 weeks or months it is natural for him to expect to find things 
 as he left them. Often he is amazed at the changes which even 
 a short time may produce. So, when New Salem was reached, 
 Abraham went at once to the store only to find it closed and 
 Dennis Offutt gone, none knew whither. Although it was no 
 more than he had expected it came with a shock to find his 
 expectations verified. Therefore, his time being at his own dis- 
 posal, he plunged at once into his canvass for a seat in the 
 Legislature. There were but ten days before the general elec- 
 tion, so that no time was to be lost. 
 
 It was the custom, at this time, for candidates to travel over 
 the county, making speeches at every gathering which brought 
 the people out. During election times, at "Vendues," as the 
 public sales were called, it was expected that candidates should 
 take the auctioneer's place as soon as the sale was finished: 
 and market days were looked forward to on account of the 
 speeches that the candidates were certain to make. "To take 
 the stump" was to mount a keg, a dry-goods box, or even 
 the stump of a newly-felled tree, any object, in fact, around 
 
 152 
 
POSTMASTER AND SURVEYOR 153 
 
 which the people might gather, and address the voters in an 
 off-hand manner, urging the reasons why the speaker should 
 be chosen to the place for which he was a candidate. 
 
 The first speech that young Lincoln made was after a sale 
 at Pappsville, a village eleven miles west of Springfield. The 
 sale was over, and speech-making had begun when a fight broke 
 out in the audience. There were several candidates present, and 
 it was Abraham's turn to speak when, as he was rising to go 
 forward to the front of the rude platform, he noticed that one 
 of his friends had been attacked by a ruffianly fellow and was 
 getting worsted. Now when one of his friends was in trouble 
 it was Lincoln's first thought to go at once to his rescue. So, 
 hastily descending from the platform, he bounded through the 
 crowd, seized the fellow by the scruff of the neck, and flung 
 him ten feet away. The crowd cheered lustily as he calmly 
 returned to the platform, and, throwing off his hat, began to 
 speak. The frontier appreciated a man who could use his 
 muscle as well as his brain. 
 
 "Fellow-citizens," said young Lincoln, "I presume you all 
 know who I am. I am humble Abraham Lincoln. I have been 
 solicited by many friends to become a candidate for the Legis- 
 lature. My politics are short and sweet, like the old woman's 
 dance. I am in favor of a national bank. I am in favor of the 
 internal improvement system and a high protective tariff. 
 These are my sentiments and political principles. If elected, I 
 shall be thankful; if not it will be all the same." 
 
 These sentiments and principles were exactly opposed to 
 the party in power. Illinois was largely Democratic, and Abra- 
 ham Lincoln was a Whig. He had been one since he first read 
 the Life of Henry Clay. The papers he read were the "Louis- 
 ville Journal," and the "Sangamon Journal," both Whig. 
 
154 LINCOLN 
 
 These and other things confirmed him in his principles. He 
 was poor, and comparatively unknown, but he bravely cast 
 his lot in with the minority, be the consequences what they 
 might. 
 
 It followed as a matter of course when the election came 
 off on August 6th that he was defeated. "The only time that 
 I was ever defeated on the direct vote of the people," he said 
 in after years. But there were consolations in his defeat. His 
 own district of New Salem had supported him heartily. Of 
 the entire vote in the precinct he received all but three. Also 
 he had made many friends. His speeches had brought him in 
 contact with a number of the prominent men of that part of 
 the State who were impressed by his individuality and origi- 
 nality. Among these were Stephen T. Logan, Major Stuart, 
 and William Butler; all Whigs and all Kentuckians like him- 
 self. It is said that Judge Logan, coming into the crowd one 
 day where young Lincoln was speaking, asked: 
 
 "Who is that tall, gawky, awkward looking young fellow?" 
 
 "That," replied Major John Stuart who was with him, "is 
 Abraham Lincoln." 
 
 "And he is presenting himself as a candidate to the people? 
 Why, his pantaloons don't reach his shoes by six inches!" But 
 after listening a while the judge became much interested in the 
 young man, and when he had finished speaking, remarked: 
 "That was a very sensible speech. There is more to that young 
 fellow than his appearance would indicate." 
 
 Then, too, Abraham had gained the confidence of the peo- 
 ple, and increased his own, so that he was not soured nor em- 
 bittered, nor were his hopes dampened. But the election was 
 over, and Abraham, "adrift once more," was compelled to 
 look for work. 
 
POSTMASTER AND SURVEYOR 155 
 
 Some of his friends advised him to become a blacksmith, 
 and he considered this seriously for a time; but it was a trade 
 which would afford little leisure for study, and he wanted the 
 knowledge that books would give him. He was strongly drawn 
 to mercantile pursuits which was but natural considering the 
 fact that clerking was the only thing in which he had ever en- 
 gaged that was not hard manual labor, and that gave him 
 time for study. Therefore, he tried to get a place as clerk ; but 
 there were more stores in New Salem than there were cus- 
 tomers for them, so none was in need of clerks. Thoughtfully 
 the young man considered the few opportunities the village 
 afforded. He did not wish to leave it. All his hopes were based 
 on its people every one of whom was his friend. There seemed 
 nothing for him but to go back to the axe and farm work. 
 
 Matters were in this state when, one day, Rowan Herndon, 
 at whose house he was boarding, asked him suddenly: 
 
 "Abe, have you found anything yet?" 
 
 "No," replied Abe. "I went to see Hill and McNeil as you 
 advised me to, but, though their business is prosperous, they 
 can attend to it themselves. Neither Rutledge nor Radford has 
 custom enough to justify employing a clerk, which leaves only 
 your store. And we've thrashed that out." 
 
 "Did you ever think of buying a store, Abe? Or don't you 
 want to do that?" 
 
 Abe gasped. "I'm like the Irishman, Row," he answered 
 when he had recovered himself. "Some one said to him, 'Pat, 
 you have a pen, why don't you buy a pig? Or haven't you got 
 the inclination?' 'Faith,' said Pat, 'the inclination's all right; 
 it's money I lack.' " 
 
 "Well, that could be managed," spoke Rowan Herndon 
 earnestly. "Now see here, Abe: you know Brother Jim sold 
 
156 LINCOLN 
 
 his half interest in our business to Bill Berry? Now Bill and 
 I don't work well together. In fact, we don't get along at all. 
 He wants to boss, and I think I know a little more about the 
 business than he does; and there it is. If you think you can get 
 along with Bill I'll be glad to sell you my half interest in the 
 firm and take your notes for pay." 
 
 "Do you mean that, Rowan?" asked Abraham amazed. 
 
 "I certainly do. I believe that you are thoroughly honest, 
 and there is no one that I would rather have in my place than 
 you. There's a living in the store, Abe, and something beside, 
 if it is well managed. Will you take it?" 
 
 "Yes; and be eternally grateful to you, Row," answered the 
 young man quickly. 
 
 "Then it's all settled," laughed Rowan Herndon. "We'll 
 draw up the notes, and you can take possession at once." 
 
 Thus it came about that the firm of Berry & Lincoln hung 
 out its sign late in August, and were ready for business. It 
 ought to have prospered, but Abraham soon found that it was 
 an unfortunate partnership. Berry was not only bossy, which 
 he could have borne, but he drank and gambled, and squan- 
 dered a part of the firm's assets. Abraham found himself with 
 plenty of leisure for reading and study. 
 
 One day Jack Kelso, a famous fisherman and hunter, the 
 ne'er-do-well of the village, so called because he had no steady 
 employment, came into the store. He was familiar with good 
 literature, and had made a sort of reputation by repeating 
 incessantly passages of poetry. He greeted Abraham af- 
 fectionately. 
 
 ' 'Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious sum- 
 mer' by sight of you, Abe Lincoln. My wife sent me here to 
 buy some sugar; also, and to-wit, to invite you to come over 
 
POSTMASTER AND SURVEYOR 157 
 
 tonight. She has two stylish young women from Springfield 
 visiting her, and some boys and girls are coming to spend the 
 evening. There are to be games and a candy pull. 'The daintiest 
 last to make the end most sweet.' " 
 
 Abraham glanced down at his ill-fitting clothing, and shook 
 his head. He was becoming shy in the presence of ladies, due 
 partly to his unpretentious appearance, and partly to pure 
 bashfulness. Kelso's eyes followed his glance, and he gave a 
 great laugh. 
 
 "Hoot, mon," he cried. "What matters the attire? Listen to 
 Bobby Burns: 
 
 " 'What though on homely fare we dine, 
 
 Wear hoddin gray, and a' that ; 
 Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine, 
 
 A man' a man for a' that ! 
 For a' that, and a' that, 
 
 Their tinsel show, and a' that ; 
 The honest man, though e'er sae poor, 
 
 Is king o' men for a' that.' " 
 
 Abraham listened earnestly. "That's good," he commented. 
 "Who is, or was, Bobby Burns?" 
 
 "A ploughboy, Abe. Born in ignorance and poverty, yet he 
 pulled himself up until he became the poet of the people. 
 You should read him. I'll lend you his poems. And you'll come 
 tonight?" 
 
 "I fear I'll cut a sorry figure," began Abraham when Kelso 
 interrupted him — 
 
 " 'Our doubts are traitors, 
 And make us lose the good we oft might win 
 By fearing to attempt.' " 
 
158 LINCOLN 
 
 "Did Bobby Burns write that too, Jack?" 
 
 "Abe, don't you ever read the poets? No. That's from the 
 Divine Bard — William Shakespeare. Don't tell me that you 
 haven't read Shakespeare?" 
 
 "Well, I haven't, Jack; though I'd like to do so, if that is 
 a specimen of his writing." 
 
 "Ah, lad! that's but a small specimen. The wisdom of the 
 ages lies between the covers of a book of his plays. Why, Abe, 
 with the Bible and Shakespeare a man has the world of litera- 
 ture in his grasp. You shall become acquainted with him at 
 once." 
 
 "When did he live, Jack?" 
 
 "In the last part of the sixteenth and the early part of the 
 seventeenth centuries. But, as rare Ben Jonson said — 'He was 
 not of an age, but for all time." 
 
 "That's a fine thing to say of a man," mused young Lincoln 
 a far-off look in his eyes. He did not dream that the same 
 thing would be said of him at a future day. "Well, I'll come, 
 Jack; if only to get those two books." 
 
 And thus was Abraham Lincoln introduced to Shakespeare 
 and Burns. He was much with Jack Kelso, and the tastes 
 formed in his company clung to him through life. A book was 
 always with him, and he would apply himself to it as oppor- 
 tunity offered. He was reading Hamlet one morning, and had 
 stopped to ponder the words: 
 
 "There's a divinity that shapes our ends, 
 Rough-hew them how we will," 
 
 when a wagon stopped in front of the store, and some one 
 called : 
 "Hello!" 
 
POSTMASTER AND SURVEYOR 159 
 
 Abraham laid down his book, and went to the door. The 
 wagon contained a man, his family, and his household plunder. 
 
 "What can I do for you, sir?" he asked. 
 
 "First, I want to buy some feed for my horses," replied the 
 man. "Then, I want to get a good hot meal for my family. Can 
 you tell me where I can get them?" 
 
 "The first you can get right here, sir. The second you can 
 obtain at the tavern a little distance down the road. I can put 
 the feed in for you now, or wait until you come back from 
 the tavern." 
 
 "I'll take it now, I reckon," answered the man getting down 
 from the seat and going to the back end of the wagon. "Then 
 when we load up at the tavern we're ready to start. Consarn 
 that barrel!" he ejaculated as a barrel tumbled from its place 
 among the plunder to the ground. "That's the third time that 
 pesky thing has tumbled down on me. Say, mister, what'll you 
 give me for it ? I can't have it falling down on me all the way out 
 West. Now there's nothing of any special value in it, and I just 
 can't tote it any longer." 
 
 Lincoln hesitated. He did not want the barrel, but to oblige 
 the man he said — "How would four bits do?" 
 
 "It'll do fine," replied the other quickly. "Now how about 
 that feed?" 
 
 Abraham procured the feed, rolled the barrel into the back 
 part of the store and forgot all about it. Sometime after, in 
 overhauling things, he came upon the barrel, and emptying it 
 upon the floor to see what it contained, he found at the bottom 
 of the rubbish a complete edition of Blackstone's Commen- 
 taries on the Laws of England. It was the one book that a 
 young man studying law should read first. 
 
 Abraham drew a long breath, opened the book, and began 
 
160 LINCOLN 
 
 to read. He had plenty of time for customers were becoming 
 few and far between. The more he read the more intensely in- 
 terested he became. Never had his mind been so thoroughly 
 roused. He had not paid much attention to law courts since 
 leaving Indiana. There had been small opportunity to do so, 
 but always there had lurked in his subconscious mind the de- 
 sire to become a lawyer. It will be remembered that when he 
 was at Posey's Landing on the Ohio River he frequently 
 rowed across and listened while Squire Pate cleared his docket. 
 Now it all came back to him, and slowly the determination to 
 become a lawyer crystallized in his mind. He could make a 
 start by mastering Blackstone: what would follow must be 
 left to future developments. 
 
 At present he was confronted by the stern necessity of mak- 
 ing money enough to meet his living expenses. Rowan Hern- 
 don had removed to the country, and Abraham was staying at 
 Rutledge's Tavern ; a running board bill must be provided for. 
 The affairs of Berry & Lincoln became more and more un- 
 satisfactory as the fall and winter went by. Berry was drink- 
 ing to such an extent that his health was being undermined, 
 and Abraham had begun to realize that he himself was not 
 adapted to mercantile pursuits. By the spring of 1833 it was 
 evident that something had to be done. Once more Abraham 
 was forced to take any odd work he could get. He worked as 
 day laborer, split rails, looked after the mill, helped in the 
 other stores when there was need of extra help, and harvested 
 hay and oats. In May came an unexpected honor : he was com- 
 missioned postmaster at New Salem, the first office he ever 
 held under the Federal Government. He was a Whig, yet he 
 was appointed under a Democratic administration. But the 
 office was too insignificant to be considered politically, and was 
 
POSTMASTER AND SURVEYOR 161 
 
 given to him because some his Democratic friends desired 
 that it be done ; also he was the only one willing to take it who 
 could make out the returns. The duties of the new office were 
 not arduous. The mail arrived once a week, and so few were 
 the letters that Abraham placed them in his hat, and when- 
 ever he went out to work delivered them to the people along 
 the way. 
 
 Both Berry and Lincoln were by this time thoroughly dis- 
 couraged by their mercantile venture and when two brothers, 
 Alexander and William Trent, asked if the store was for sale, 
 an affirmative answer was eagerly given. A price was agreed 
 upon and the sale made; but, as neither of the brothers had 
 any money, their notes were accepted for the purchase price, 
 and the store was turned over to them. 
 
 With the postoffice and by dint of sundry jobs Abraham 
 managed to keep his head above water, but it was a scant and 
 uncertain support, and when in the fall he had an opportunity 
 to learn surveying he accepted it eagerly. Some of his friends 
 had recommended him to John Calhoun as suitable material 
 for an assistant. Mr. Calhoun was then surveyor of the county, 
 and was overwhelmed with work. He had no personal ac- 
 quaintance with young Lincoln, but he had heard of him as 
 an honest, intelligent, and trustworthy young man. So, one 
 day, he sent him word that he had decided to appoint him as 
 deputy-surveyor if he would accept the position. 
 
 Abraham was in the woods chopping trees when Pollard 
 Simmons, a man living in the vicinity of New Salem, brought 
 him the news. The two sat down together on a log, and Sim- 
 mons told the young man what Calhoun had said. Abe sat 
 silent for a moment, considering the matter. Calhoun was a 
 Democrat and he was a Whig. 
 
162 LINCOLN 
 
 "I should like the position," he said at length. "I'd take it 
 in a minute if I could be sure that there was no political obliga- 
 tion involved in it. I want to be free in my political actions. 
 I don't want to engage in anything that will abridge the ex- 
 pression of my sentiments." 
 
 "I don't think that Mr. Calhoun wants that either, Abe," 
 said Pollard earnestly. "He needs help the worst way what 
 with the people piling in here from the East, and wanting their 
 lands surveyed all to oncet. 'Sides, there's new towns springing 
 up everywhere, and they need laying out. There ain't many 
 young fellows hereabout that's got your ability, Abe, and Cal- 
 houn knows it. Why don't you go down and talk it over with 
 him?" 
 
 "I shall, Pollard. It was mighty good of you to walk all 
 the way out here to tell me about it." 
 
 "Shucks! that's nothing, Abe. You'd do as much for me any 
 day." 
 
 Which was true. Abraham Lincoln was genial and obliging, 
 instinctively doing the thing which he saw would help another, 
 no matter how trivial or homely it was — from rocking a baby 
 for a tired mother, to roofing a barn. His strong arm was al- 
 ways at the disposal of the poor and needy; and it was said of 
 him, "with a graphic variation of a well-known text, 'that he 
 visited the fatherless and the widow and chopped their wood.' ' 
 
 He lost no time in going to see Calhoun, who lived in Spring- 
 field. He found him to be a brave, intellectual, cultivated 
 Yankee gentleman who at once gave him the assurance he 
 wished regarding his freedom of speech and opinions. There 
 remained but one difficulty: he, Abraham, knew absolutely 
 nothing about surveying. But Mr. Calhoun had understood 
 this, and agreed that he should have time to learn, furnishing 
 
POSTMASTER AND SURVEYOR 163 
 
 him with books for that purpose, directing him to study them 
 until he felt competent to begin work. 
 
 Abraham began with "The Theory and Practice of Sur- 
 veying; Containing All the Instructions Requisite for the 
 Skilful Practice of this Art, By Robert Gibson," and sought 
 Mentor Graham to help him. The schoolmaster was ever his 
 good friend, aiding him in whatever way he could. Now he 
 had Lincoln come to his own house that they might have 
 more time together. Abraham threw himself into the study 
 with such intense application that his friends became greatly 
 concerned for his health. He worked literally day and night, 
 sitting up night after night until the crowing of the cock 
 warned him of the coming of dawn. In six weeks he had mas- 
 tered the subject, and reported to Mr. Calhoun for duty. He 
 was at once assigned to the territory in the northern part of 
 the county, and became an excellent surveyor, his surveys be- 
 ing exact and just, and so manifestly fair that he was often 
 chosen to settle disputed questions of corners and measure- 
 ments. He was paid three dollars a day when he worked, and 
 with the revenue from the postoffice seemed in a fair way to do 
 well. He could live decently and comfortably, and have time 
 for study also. All at once the prospects of easy times ahead 
 were again brought to naught. 
 
 One morning as he came into New Salem after a few days' 
 absence surveying, he found that the Trent Brothers had gone ; 
 skipped out for parts unknown leaving their notes unpaid, and 
 the store in the hands of creditors. Misfortunes never come 
 singly, as he soon realized, for the disappearance of the Trents 
 was followed by the death of William Berry, his former part- 
 ner. This left young Lincoln with all the debts of the firm to 
 meet. He was appalled. The total was eleven hundred dollars, 
 
164 LINCOLN 
 
 and it seemed the work of a lifetime to earn by labor so large 
 an amount besides his living. It is true that he might "clear 
 out," as was too commonly done by men who could not meet 
 their obligations; but that did not accord with his sense of 
 honor. There was but one way. Quietly he went to the credi- 
 tors, and told them that if they would let him alone he would 
 give them all he could earn over his living, as fast as he could 
 earn it. It was a great obstacle in his pathway, but he bore it 
 cheerfully; though at times it weighed upon him so heavily 
 that both he and his friends referred to it as the "National 
 Debt." Unlike most national debts, however, it was eventually 
 paid, together with the interest at the high rates then prevail- 
 ing, though it took many years to do it. 
 
 With a single exception his creditors were lenient. One of 
 the notes given by him fell into the hands of a Mr. Van Bergen, 
 who, when it fell due, brought suit against him. The amount 
 of the judgment was more than Abraham could pay, and his 
 personal effects were levied upon. These consisted of his horse 
 — he had had to buy one on account of the long distances he 
 must travel in surveying — saddle and bridle, and surveying 
 instruments. 
 
 Abraham did not attend the sale. He was so hopeless that he 
 could not. He stayed in his room at the tavern, and tried to 
 study. It was all in vain. Black despair settled over him. So 
 sunk in melancholy was he that he did not hear a knock on the 
 door, nor did he look around when it opened softly, until a 
 hand clapped him on the shoulder, and a voice exclaimed 
 heartily : 
 
 "Howdy, Abe! Thought I'd drop in to see how you was git- 
 ting along." 
 
 "Why, howdy, Uncle Jimmy," cried the young man turning 
 
POSTMASTER AND SURVEYOR, 165 
 
 to greet James Short, a well-to-do farmer living on Sand 
 Ridge a few miles north of New Salem. "Sit down. Smoke if 
 you like." 
 
 "Not now, Abe. I can only stay a few minutes. Come out- 
 side. There's something out there I want to show you." 
 
 Glad of any diversion Abraham obediently followed him 
 outside the door of the tavern, and there, saddled and bridled, 
 stood his horse, the surveying instruments lying on the ground 
 beside him. Amazed, Abraham stared at the outfit. 
 
 "I heard of your trouble, and I bought 'em in for you, Abe," 
 spoke James Short genially. "Take them, and pay for them 
 when you get ready; if you never get ready, it's all the same 
 to me." 
 
 For a moment Lincoln could not speak. His eyes were rilled 
 with tears. He could only grasp his friend's hand, and wring 
 it hard. 
 
 "I'll never forget this, Uncle Jimmy," he said, conquering 
 his emotion. He never did. He not only paid back the money 
 spent, but years later when James Short was himself in finan- 
 cial straits, and had gone West to recoup his fortunes, Lin- 
 coln, then President, heard of it, and sent him a Commission 
 as an Indian Agent. 
 
 But the kindness of James Short was not exceptional in 
 Abraham Lincoln's New Salem career. So beloved had he be- 
 come that there was hardly a man or woman in the community 
 who would not have been glad to have done as much, if they 
 could. There was never an hour so dark that some friend did 
 not come forward to help him. 
 
CHAPTER THIRTEEN 
 
 A PLUNGE INTO POLITICS 
 
 MattePvS now began to move smoothly for Abraham. So 
 proficient did he become as a surveyor that he soon found his 
 time well employed with private business as well as public. 
 One of his first pieces of private surveying was done for Rus- 
 sell Godby, a farmer for whom he had worked the preceding 
 summer. For his pay Godby gave him two buckskins which 
 Hannah Armstrong "foxed" on his breeches so that the briers 
 would not wear them out. 
 
 He began to live comfortably and to pay something on his 
 indebtedness as well. The surveying, too, was bringing him 
 new friends. It carried him over a large part of the county, 
 thereby furnishing an opportunity of extending his acquaint- 
 ance; and new acquaintances meant new friends, for with 
 Abraham Lincoln the one followed the other. The office of 
 surveyor was an important one in the county and gave him 
 standing, but he was made welcome wherever his duties took 
 him on account of his personal qualities. 
 
 It was remarkable how popular he was becoming. This was 
 due partly to his willingness to lend a hand indoors as well as 
 out, to his ability to tell a good story, to his original and unique 
 
 166 
 
A PLUNGE INTO POLITICS 167 
 
 sayings, to his love of fairness and justness, to his extraor- 
 dinary physical prowess, to his tolerance of all intelligent 
 opinion, and above all, to his sincere and unaffected interest in 
 the lives of other people; their difficulties and sorrows. 
 
 He was a combination rare on the frontier, and dimly men 
 began to feel that he was destined for a great future. It began 
 to be remarked that he was a "right smart young man; that it 
 would not be at all surprising if Abe Lincoln got to be gov- 
 ernor some day." In the spring of 1834, therefore, it was taken 
 as a matter of course that he would again be a candidate for 
 the Legislature, and men began to speak to him concerning 
 the matter. Young Lincoln was gratified, but he was uncertain 
 as to whether he ought to make the canvass. He felt that he 
 would like to consult with some of the other candidates before 
 announcing himself. Accordingly, he went to Springfield and 
 sought Major John T. Stuart, who had been a comrade in the 
 Black Hawk War. 
 
 "I am sure of the united support of the Whigs, Stuart," 
 he said as he laid the matter before young Stuart who was 
 a candidate for re-election to the Assembly. "Some of the 
 Democrats will vote for me too, I know; but I don't know 
 whether I ought to try again for the place or not. It might be 
 wiser to wait for a future election." 
 
 "Make the canvass now by all means, Lincoln," advised 
 Stuart generously, although he knew that by encouraging Lin- 
 coln's candidacy he was endangering his own election. "You 
 made a good run last time, and the people have not forgotten 
 it. There is no reason in the world why you should not run 
 again. I feel sure that you will succeed in being elected this 
 time. And by the way! I've been intending to talk to you for 
 some time. Have you ever thought of becoming a lawyer?" 
 
168 LINCOLN 
 
 "Why, yes;" stammered Abraham taken quite by surprise. 
 "I have, in a sort of way. I have read Blackstone's 'Commen- 
 taries' through several times. That's as far as I have gotten." 
 
 "A sort of a way won't do, Lincoln. You have it in you to 
 make a good lawyer, but 'The law is a jealous mistress.' It 
 crowds everything else out when you really go at it in earnest. 
 You should make a regular business of it as you have done 
 with surveying." 
 
 "I'd like to do it the worst way, Stuart; but I can't. I've 
 always had a hankering to be a lawyer, but I can't afford to 
 buy the necessary books, and it is out of the question for me 
 to give up work and go into a lawyer's office." 
 
 "You may get all the books you need from my office," Stuart 
 told him earnestly. He was a rising lawyer, well established in 
 Springfield, and much interested in his former comrade of the 
 Spy Battalion. "Make the canvass, and after it is over start 
 in on the law in earnest. I should like to be of use to you in 
 establishing you in the profession." 
 
 "Thank you, Stuart. I shall be glad to avail myself of any 
 aid you can give me," said Lincoln gratefully. 
 
 After this interview he announced himself as a candidate, 
 and spent much of the summer of 1834 "electioneering." It 
 was, of course, on a much larger scale than the canvass he had 
 made two years previously, but similar in other respects. In 
 company with the other candidates he rode up and down the 
 county making speeches wherever the people gathered. Some- 
 times he rode alone — over the broad prairies, flooded with ver- 
 dure, the air vibrant with the song of birds and the call of the 
 wild-fowl, and "electioneered," as it was called, from farm to 
 farm. On one of these latter occasions he went to the house 
 of his friend, Rowan Herndon, during harvest when there 
 
Lincoln Told Them His Ideas on the Leading Questions of the Day 
 
A PLUNGE INTO POLITICS 169 
 
 were a large number of men at work in the field. Rowan Hern- 
 don called the men together, and introduced Lincoln, saying: 
 
 "Men, this is Abraham Lincoln. He is a candidate for the 
 Legislature, and he would like to tell you his views on local 
 and general matters. He wants to know if you would like to 
 listen to him?" 
 
 The men stood silent for a moment ; then one of them spoke : 
 "It's like this, Row," he said. "We don't mind listening to 
 Abraham Lincoln, or to any other candidate ; but when it comes 
 to giving our votes — why them goes to the man who can labor 
 same as us. We like a man that can work, and beat us at our 
 own kind of work. The more he can do the better we like him." 
 
 Young Lincoln smiled. Without a word he caught hold 
 of a cradle, and bending his long back over it, sped across the 
 field of grain, cutting a wide swath. Laughing and shouting 
 the men took up their cradles and essayed to follow him, but 
 he raced them back and forth over the field, always holding the 
 lead. Finally, the men, out of breath, stopped, begging him to 
 make his speech while they rested. This gave Lincoln the op- 
 portunity he wished, and he told them briefly his ideas on the 
 leading questions of the day, and what he thought would be 
 best in the way of local improvements. One of his most win- 
 ning attributes was his sincere belief that Sangamon County 
 was the promised land, and that it only needed development to 
 make settlers flock into it. A belief that always touched a re- 
 sponsive chord in his hearers. When he had finished speaking 
 the men crowded about him, promising him their votes eagerly. 
 
 In his travels about the county Lincoln never failed to adapt 
 himself to the point of view of the men whom he met. If the 
 test for a candidate was a feat of strength, he was ready to lift 
 a weight, throw quoits, or wrestle with the local champion. 
 
170 LINCOLN 
 
 One Doctor Barrett, on seeing him for the first time, enquired 
 of the latter's friends, 
 
 "Can't the party raise any better material than that?" But 
 after hearing his speech, the doctor's opinion was considerably 
 altered, for he declared that Lincoln filled him with amaze- 
 ment. "That he knew more than all the other candidates put 
 together." 
 
 The campaign was well conducted for in August Abraham 
 Lincoln was elected one of the four Legislators from Sanga- 
 mon County; his friend Stuart being also successful. 
 
 After the election he went back to his surveying, at which 
 he had worked at odd times through the summer, and to his 
 postoffice, carrying the letters in his hat again, and using Hill 
 and McNeil's store as his headquarters. And now he took up 
 the study of law in earnest, going to Springfield to -borrow the 
 necessary books from Major Stuart. The distance between the 
 two places was twenty miles, and sometimes he rode, but quite 
 frequently he walked it. The country between Springfield and 
 New Salem was a pleasant one, part prairie, part forest, and 
 often, on returning to the latter place, young Lincoln would 
 stop among the flowers that billowed the prairie to read. At 
 other times he lay under the shade of a great oak tree, with 
 his feet against the trunk, and studied. He liked to read aloud 
 and thought that he remembered better what he had read with 
 both eye and ear taking it in. Often he wandered in the fields, 
 repeating aloud the points in his reading. As Stuart had said 
 "law was a jealous mistress," and it soon absorbed his whole 
 interest. 
 
 If he could become a lawyer, he told himself, he believed that, 
 with his wide and growing acquaintance, he could build up a 
 practice. That would be a complete settlement of the problem 
 
A PLUNGE INTO POLITICS 171 
 
 of his future. And so he improved the opportunity to the 
 utmost. 
 
 Procuring a book of legal forms he practiced drawing up 
 wills, deeds, contracts, and all sorts of legal documents, and 
 the people of New Salem and neighborhood soon began to 
 come to him to perform services of this nature. One of the se- 
 crets of Abraham Lincoln's success was the belief that his 
 friends and neighbors had in his ability to do anything he set 
 out to do. One may have dreams of place and distinction, but 
 if one's friends do not believe in the dreams also they are 
 apt to come to naught. So dependent is weak human nature 
 upon the approval of others. 
 
 But Lincoln's friends believed in him, and whenever any of 
 them got into any legal entanglement it became usual to say: 
 "Go to Abe Lincoln. He'll tell you what to do. He always tells 
 the right of the matter." In this way the embryo lawyer was 
 drawn to act the part of advocate before the village squire, 
 at this time Bowling Green. As there was no practicing lawyer 
 nearer than Springfield this became more and more the case. 
 He realized that the experience was most valuable, and seldom, 
 if ever, charged a fee for his services. 
 
 The summer passed. Cold winds from the northwest, bring- 
 ing a freeze, ended the Indian summer of the fall. Abraham 
 laid by his surveying instruments, and dropped his law books 
 to make preparations for going to the Assembly which con- 
 vened December First at Vandalia, the capital of the State. 
 He needed clothes. His appearance was all very well where 
 people knew him, but to go among strangers where external 
 raiment would count for much was another thing. "The ap- 
 parel oft proclaims the man," was a lesson he was learning. He 
 had made a living, had paid on his indebtedness, but had saved 
 
172 LINCOLN 
 
 no money. In his dilemma he went to see Coleman Smooth — a 
 man of means who had a farm on the road to Springfield, 
 and who was his good friend. 
 
 "Smooth," he said as they sat by the fireside, "you voted for 
 me; didn't you?" 
 
 "Yes, Abe," answered Smooth. "I did, and I believe that 
 you'll make us all proud of you. Why did you ask?" 
 
 "Because I need some money with which to go to Vandalia. 
 I want to do credit to my constituents, and I can't unless I 
 have money to buy a suit of clothes, and to live in a manner 
 befitting a legislator while I'm there. Will you lend me two 
 hundred dollars?" 
 
 "Gladly, Abe. Of course you must maintain the dignity of 
 your office. All of us want that. We are glad to see you rise 
 because we all believe that you deserve to rise. I'll get the 
 money and bring it to you right away." 
 
 "And I'll return it just as soon as I can, Smooth. You'll 
 place me under everlasting obligations." 
 
 "That's all right, Abe. I'm glad to help you any way that I 
 can. You would do as much for me." 
 
 So, when the day for departure came Abraham Lincoln ap- 
 peared at Rutledge's Tavern, where he was to take the stage, 
 clad, according to the custom of the times, in a new suit of 
 plain mixed jeans, his coat being of the surtout fashion, his 
 long legs adequately covered for the first time in his life. All 
 Clary's Grove and New Salem turned out to see him off. The 
 people were proud of him, proud of his learning, his per- 
 severance, and of the fact that he was one of them, and was on 
 his way towards becoming a public man. They cheered him as 
 the stage started, and Lincoln waved his long arms in fare- 
 well, looking back at them as long as he could see them. 
 
A PLUNGE INTO POLITICS 173 
 
 The formation period was over; the era of statesmanship 
 was beginning. Through her hills, her woods, her rivers and 
 her prairies Nature had played her part in his development. 
 By dint of the scantiest means he had secured himself a prac- 
 tical education, and had lifted himself out of the humble con- 
 ditions by which his life had been surrounded. Now he was to 
 be measured by men who were the leaders of the State. Abra- 
 ham Lincoln had entered upon the path of leading to the fulfill- 
 ment of his destiny. 
 
 Vandalia lay seventy-five miles southeast of New Salem, on 
 the Kaskaskia River, and young Lincoln entered the little capi- 
 tal of Illinois with mingled feelings of elation and humility. 
 He was elated because he had been deemed worthy by his 
 friends and neighbors to represent them in the highest law- 
 making body of the State; humble, lest he prove unequal to 
 the task. 
 
 It was a small town containing about eight hundred inhabi- 
 tants, but the society which gathered there during the winter 
 was polished and elegant. But small as it was, it was much 
 larger than any place that he had ever lived in, though he was 
 familiar with Springfield which was twice as large as Vandalia. 
 
 The Legislature met in the Court-house which was furnished 
 simply with wooden desks and benches. The members for the 
 most part were Southerners, or of Southern blood. Illinois 
 and Indiana were both transplanted bits of Kentucky, Ten- 
 nessee, and Virginia. Few Eastern men were to be seen. 
 
 Lincoln was quick to notice that there were but few coon- 
 skin caps and buckskin breeches. The majority of the men of 
 the Assembly wore jeans suits like his own, although there were 
 those who wore apparel of rich cloth and were men of courtly 
 manners. He soon found that his colleagues were brilliant men. 
 
174 LINCOLN 
 
 Indeed, some of them were destined to be governors, senators, 
 and judges; they were to organize political parties, and were 
 to lead brigades and divisions in two great wars to come. 
 
 One day as he. sat with Major Stuart on a bench under a 
 hard maple tree in the Court-house yard a small man passed 
 them, then retraced his steps until he stopped just in front of 
 them. 
 
 "I should like to speak with you a moment, major," he said. 
 "That is, of course, if you and your friend are not engaged in 
 conference." 
 
 "No conference at all," smiled Stuart rising. "Just friendly 
 talk. Before we leave, however, I should like you to meet with 
 my friend, Abraham Lincoln. Mr. Lincoln is the new mem- 
 ber from Sangamon. Lincoln, this is Mr. Douglas, Stephen A. 
 Douglas, formerly of Vermont; now from Morgan County, 
 Illinois." 
 
 The two future antagonists saluted each other in a perfunc- 
 tory manner. "Neither seemed to have any presentiment of the 
 future greatness of the other. Douglas, indeed, it was evident, 
 thought little of the raw youth from the Sangamon timber;" 
 and Lincoln, when Stuart returned, asked: 
 
 "Who did you say that man was? I don't remember seeing 
 him in the Legislature." 
 
 "He isn't a member, Lincoln. He is here lobbying for the 
 office of States Attorney in the District where he lives. John 
 J. Harding holds it now. He is Stephen A. Douglas, from 
 Vermont. He has been in the State a little more than a year, 
 but has proved himself to be a man of mettle." 
 
 "Did you ever hear what Stephen Nuckles, the old hard- 
 shelled Baptist preacher, said about Yankees?" 
 
A PLUNGE INTO POLITICS 175 
 
 "No; I've seen Nuckles often in Springfield, but I've never 
 heard him preach. What did he say?" 
 
 "He was preaching on the grace of the Lord, and he said: 
 'It tuks in the isles of the sea, an' the uttermost parts of the 
 yeth. It embraces the Esquimaux and the Hottentots, an' 
 some, my dear brethering, go so fur as to suppose that it tuks 
 in the poor benighted Yankees; but I don't go so fur.' Now 
 the Lord wouldn't have to extend his grace very far to take in 
 Douglas. He is the least man I ever saw." 
 
 "He is small," answered Stuart laughing at Lincoln's mim- 
 icry of the old preacher. "I don't believe that Douglas would 
 measure an inch over five feet, nor weigh over a hundred 
 pounds." 
 
 "Still, size doesn't always count. The biggest barn, if it's 
 empty, doesn't amount to much. A small one filled is worth 
 more. The Assembly is- called, Stuart." 
 
 During the Session Lincoln occupied no especially con- 
 spicuous position, but he was keenly alive to all that was go- 
 ing on. He held his own respectably among the legislative 
 debates, but for the most part he listened to others. While he 
 said little he took in everything. He was assigned to a place 
 on a Committee on Public Accounts and Expenditures. He 
 was constantly in his place, and faithful to all the duties that 
 developed upon him. He was learning. But, before the Session 
 was ended, he had become acquainted with all of the eighty- 
 one members of the body, and had come to be regarded as a 
 rather quiet, good-natured young man, possessed of unusual 
 common sense. 
 
 With more self-assurance than he had started with the young 
 representative took his place in the stage to return to New 
 
176 LINCOLN 
 
 Salem in the spring. The world seemed very bright; brighter 
 than it ever had before. The future was full of promise. Per- 
 haps he might distinguish himself as a Legislator; his Con- 
 stituency would return him if he wished. Perhaps he might 
 become a successful lawyer. He was already master of a pro- 
 fession that gave him a great deal of work, and returned fair 
 fees; but greater possibilities were opening before him. 
 
 So, as he rode over the prairies to New Salem, a smile parted 
 his lips, and he indulged further in day dreams. For, brighter 
 than dreams of place and distinction, was a nearer and dearer 
 one — the dream of wife and home. Abraham Lincoln was in 
 love. 
 
CHAPTER FOURTEEN 
 
 IN THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW 
 
 He loved a young girl who was one of the daughters of 
 James Rutledge, the keeper of the village tavern. As the stage 
 rolled over- the broad prairies teeming with flowers and birds 
 and insects, Lincoln's mind went back to the time when first 
 he met her. It was at the log schoolhouse where Mentor Gra- 
 ham taught the children and young people of the little log- 
 cabin village. While he was studying Kirkham's Grammar he 
 had often dropped in to confer with Mr. Graham on some point 
 that bothered him. Often during these visits his glance had 
 wandered to an auburn-haired maiden with eyes as blue as the 
 violets that carpeted the meadows in May, and whose sweet 
 low voice set his heart strings to quivering. 
 
 "Don't singe your wings, Abraham," cautioned Mr. Gra- 
 ham, who soon noticed his interest in the girl. "Anne Rutledge 
 is a mighty nice girl, gentle and kind, and as good as she is 
 beautiful; but she is not for you." 
 
 "I reckon a cat may look at a king," he had drawled. 
 
 "Just so. Look, but not too long, nor too often lest it be to 
 your own undoing. She is engaged to be married to John Mc- 
 Neil, and has been for two years. You see he came here very 
 
 177 
 
178 LINCOLN 
 
 soon after her father and Mr. Cameron started the mills, and 
 the first thing he did, after he and Samuel Hill opened up 
 their store, was to fall in love with Anne. There were several 
 other young men who did likewise, among them Hill, McNeil's 
 partner. But neither Hill nor any of the others had any chance 
 from the start; for it seemed to be a case of love at first sight 
 with Anne and John. They soon became engaged, but her 
 parents considered Anne too young to marry, she was but 
 seventeen at the time, so the young folks consented to post- 
 pone the wedding day for a few years. It's considerate in 
 John to be so sensible about the matter; but, as he says him- 
 self, he ought to have something ahead before taking a wife." 
 
 "Well," had been Lincoln's comment, "a man can't keep a 
 canary without a cage." 
 
 "Precisely; so, whenever you find your thoughts wander- 
 ing in that direction, turn them elsewhere. Anne Rutledge has 
 eyes for no man but John McNeil." 
 
 "He's good looking enough to catch any girl's eyes," laughed 
 Lincoln good-naturedly. But mentally he had contrasted his 
 own tall, awkward, ungainly self with the person of the hand- 
 some and debonair McNeil. 
 
 That interview had taken place while he was still a clerk 
 in Dennis Offutt's store, and the subject was never mentioned 
 between them again. In 1833, however, after Rowan Hern- 
 don removed to the country, he had gone to the tavern to 
 board, and there was daily in her company. He found that 
 she was all his imagination had painted. She was bright, well 
 educated for the times, and skilled in all the arts of a house- 
 wife. Her daily presence, her gentleness and winning tact in 
 the home, her beauty, which was a village boast, were as fuel to 
 his fancy. But, as the betrothed of another man, the girl was 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW 179 
 
 set aside in a consecrated niche, which he approached no closer 
 than to burn the incense of his daily homage before her. He 
 schooled himself to watch the courtship of John McNeil cheer- 
 fully, though realizing to the full "How bitter a thing it is to 
 look into happiness through another man's eyes." 
 
 James Rutledge knew nothing of his prospective son-in- 
 law's antecedents save that he had come from New York to the 
 West in search of fortune. As thousands of others were doing 
 the same thing he had asked no questions. He was a warm- 
 hearted man of a large and generous nature, and, as McNeil 
 was industrious, intelligent, and frugal, with a good head for 
 business, he took him at his face value. By commendable effort 
 McNeil had accumulated a comfortable amount of property. 
 Within three years he had acquired a large farm a few miles 
 north of New Salem, beside a half interest in the leading shore 
 of the village. It was estimated that he was worth anywhere 
 from ten to twelve thousand dollars; a fair sized fortune for 
 the times. 
 
 It was considered quite natural when, all at once, McNeil 
 began to express a desire to see his people. He decided sud- 
 denly that he would go East for a visit, saying that he hoped 
 to bring back his father and mother, and to place them on his 
 farm. So he sold his interest in the store to his partner, Samuel 
 Hill, and, in the Spring of 1834, while Lincoln was conducting 
 his campaign to enter the Legislature, left New Salem to re- 
 turn to New York, his native State, for a visit. "When I re- 
 turn," he had said to Anne Rutledge, "you and I will be 
 married." 
 
 So he had ridden away, mounted on an old horse that had 
 taken part in the Black Hawk War. The journey overland 
 from Illinois to New York was a tedious one, beset with dan- 
 
180 LINCOLN 
 
 gers; the mails, irregular and slow; so Anne did not expect to 
 hear from him for some time. But when the days passed into 
 weeks, and the weeks into months, with no letter she had grown 
 troubled and perplexed. 
 
 It had made Lincoln's heart bleed to see the light die out of 
 her eyes, and to see how pale and silent she became. It cut him 
 to the quick that it was he who had to deal the blow that caused 
 her suffering; for it was to him, the postmaster of New Salem, 
 that she came to ask for letters. 
 
 "No letter today, Anne," he would say gently in answer 
 to her timid inquiry. "But it's a long hard journey, and some- 
 times the mails miscarry. Your letter may have been lost." 
 
 "Why, so it might," she had exclaimed quickly. "But surely 
 he would write again." 
 
 "He will," he had assured her. "May be the very next stage 
 mail will bring a letter." 
 
 And Anne had gone away comforted. 
 
 "I wonder why McNeil doesn't write to her," he mused. "I 
 wish to goodness I could get hold of him." 
 
 At length, one day in the late summer, the stage brought 
 the long-looked-for epistle. Anne was in the store as soon as 
 the stage arrived, for Lincoln was now making headquarters 
 for the postoffice altogether at Hill's store. He held up the 
 missive before she could ask for it. 
 
 "It's come, Anne," he had cried lightly, his heart responding 
 unselfishly to the joy that leaped into the girl's face. "But the 
 postmaster is privileged to read all the love letters, you know? 
 That's part of his duty." 
 
 "Not this time, Abe," she had responded with some of her 
 old gayety. Hiding the letter under her apron she had run 
 home. 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW 181 
 
 "He was taken with a fever in Ohio," she told Lincoln later. 
 "He was in bed for a month, and part of the time was out of 
 his head. All this delayed him so that he has just reached 
 home." 
 
 "I thought something of the kind must have happened. I 
 am glad that you have heard, Anne. I like to see you happy." 
 
 But, though Anne had written back immediately, there was, 
 strangely enough, another long interval of silence before the 
 reply came. It was quite formal; merely stating that McNeil's 
 father had died, and that he was settling up his affairs. One 
 more came, and then — no more. 
 
 It began to be whispered about the village that he would 
 never come back ; that most likely he had found some one whom 
 he liked better than Anne Rutledge. Anne's faith died. 
 
 "He does not care for me any more," Anne told Lincoln 
 one afternoon of a day in November, when the latter had asked 
 her to go for a walk with him. Lincoln had been divinely sym- 
 pathetic, and a comradeship had grown up between them that 
 was sweet to him. "And, Abe, I am going to tell you some- 
 thing that John told me before he went away. I told my father 
 and mother today. You have been so good that I want you to 
 know it too." 
 
 "If you would like me to know, Anne, I should like to hear 
 it. But don't tell me unless you want to." 
 
 "I want you to know, Abe. John told me," she went on 
 hurriedly as if glad to get it off her mind, "that his name was 
 not John McNeil, but John McNamar. He said that shortly 
 before he came to New Salem his father failed in business; 
 that he was the oldest son, and that in the hope of retrieving 
 the lost fortune he had come West without his parents' knowl- 
 edge; that he had changed his name so that his family could 
 
182 LINCOLN 
 
 not find him as he felt sure that he could never accumulate 
 anything if he had them to support. I believed him, Abe, and 
 I did not tell any one what he had told me until I could bear 
 it no longer. And, oh Abe, they are saying that he must be a 
 thief, or a murderer, or a criminal of some sort, or he would 
 not have changed his name. That may be he has ever so many 
 wives. You don't think so; do you?" 
 
 "No," he had replied, concealing his amazement at the re- 
 markable story. "John doesn't seem to me like a criminal. 
 Everything may be just as he told you. As for the wives — 
 well, he is but a few years older than I am, and I don't see 
 how he could marry very many. Besides, and this is the nub 
 of the whole matter — if he wanted to accumulate money, and 
 he did accumulate it, he couldn't be marrying here, there, and 
 everywhere; now could he? Wives cost money, and John was 
 mighty careful about his money." 
 
 Anne laughed in spite of herself. A dreary little laugh, but 
 still a laugh. "I never thought of that," she exclaimed. "Abe 
 Lincoln, you are the best fellow in the world. You always 
 comfort me." 
 
 Lincoln's heart bounded. More and more she was turning 
 towards him. Love sometimes comes from sympathy, and per- 
 haps — But he held himself in hand. The time was not ripe to 
 tell her what was in his heart. He only said gently: 
 
 "I am glad that I am of use to you, Anne. I shan't forget 
 it. I shall carry those words with me to Vandalia, and I hope 
 that you will always think me the best fellow in the world." 
 
 That had been their last interview before he had gone to 
 the Legislature. He had thought of it often while away. He 
 thought of it now on his way back to the village, and remem- 
 brance brought him hope. 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW 183 
 
 He found that James Rutledge had sold the tavern to Henry 
 Onstott, and had taken his family to a farm near Sand Ridge. 
 Lincoln rode out the evening of his arrival to see Anne. 
 
 She was unfeignedly glad to see him, and set his pulses to 
 beating by telling him that she had missed him greatly through 
 the winter. And he, continuing the attitude of a tender friend- 
 liness, told her of his life in Vandalia, and of his hopes and 
 plans. 
 
 The days passed. Sometimes they walked by the singing 
 Sangamon whose green banks were fragrant with the blossoms 
 of the springtime. If Anne were in town, they often strolled 
 to the end of the long hill on the north road, and gazed over 
 the wooded plain running far to the east; or walked under 
 the lofty trees of the forest, the prairies gleaming afar like 
 sunlit gardens. And all this time no word was spoken of John 
 McNamar. One day, as Lincoln was driving her home from the 
 village, he broke the long silence which had fallen upon them 
 by asking abruptly : 
 
 "Anne, did you hear at all from John through the winter?" 
 
 "No," she told him. "And father says that even though he 
 does come back he does not wish me to marry him." 
 
 "And you, Anne? How do you feel about it?" 
 
 "I would not marry him now, Abe. I could not trust him." 
 
 "Could you trust me, Anne?" spoke the young man quickly, 
 feeling that at last the time had come when he might speak. 
 "I have loved you long. Ever since I first saw you. Do you 
 think you could care for me a little?" 
 
 "Why, Abe, I did not know you felt towards me like that? 
 I do care for you, but not that way. I think I can never care 
 for any one again. But if you love me, I will try." 
 
 Perhaps she had already begun to care; for, as Lincoln 
 
184 LINCOLN 
 
 pressed his suit, her feeling for him grew, and after a short 
 time the attachment, as was evident to every one, was mutual. 
 In simplicity and sweetness she promised to be Abraham Lin- 
 coln's wife, and together they spent a spring of dreams. 
 
 With some trepidation Lincoln sought James Rutledge's 
 sanction to the engagement. He knew that Mr. Rutledge came 
 of a distinguished family of South Carolina ; that one of them 
 had signed the Declaration of Independence; that another had 
 been appointed Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of the 
 United States by Washington ; and that still another had been 
 conspicuous in the American Congress. They had always been 
 in high places. James Rutledge himself was a Southern gentle- 
 man of the old school. And he, Abraham Lincoln, was from 
 the "scrubs," as he called them, and as poor as Job's turkey. 
 Much to his surprise, however, Mr. Rutledge received the an- 
 nouncement of the betrothal with pleasure. 
 
 "You are a rising young man, Abraham," he said. "I be- 
 lieve that you have a great future before you. Best of all, you 
 are good, honest, and true. If you and Anne love each other I 
 give you my blessing. I hope and believe that your union will 
 be a happy one." 
 
 "But you know, Anne," Lincoln had said later to his be- 
 trothed, "I am as poor as they make them, and in debt. But 
 as soon as I can be admitted to the Bar I believe that I shall 
 be in a position to make a comfortable living for you." 
 
 "I knew that you were poor, Abe," said Anne thoughtfully. 
 "For that reason, it seems a wise thing for us to wait until 
 your studies are completed before we marry. Then, too, I 
 should like to go to school another year. Brother David is to 
 return to Jacksonville for another session, and I should like 
 
IX THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW 185 
 
 to go with him. Father says that you will be a great man, Abe. 
 I want to be able to help you." 
 
 "You are an inspiration to me now, Anne," he said tenderly. 
 
 So it was planned that Anne should go to Jacksonville in 
 the autumn and spend the winter there in an academy. Lin- 
 coln was to devote himself to his law studies, and the next 
 spring when he should be admitted to the Bar, they were to 
 be married. 
 
 The summer that followed was a wonderful one to Abraham 
 Lincoln. A wonderful summer in happiness, and a busy one 
 as well. Illinois was growing. Everywhere on the great sea of 
 prairies the white covered wagons of emigrants were to be seen. 
 From New England, New York, Ohio, and the States of the 
 South they came ; for the fame of the rich lands had travelled 
 far and wide, and the people streamed towards them. 
 
 Lincoln had been reappointed deputy-surveyor by T. M. 
 Neale, who had succeeded John Calhoun in the office, and, as 
 land was in great request and there were many transfers of 
 title, he had more surveying than he could do. 
 
 He worked happily, spending every bit of time he could 
 with Anne. Never had the future seemed so bright; the pres- 
 ent so happy. Owing to her skill with the needle Anne was in 
 great request at the quiltings which took place in the village 
 and neighborhood. Often Lincoln escorted her to and from 
 these quilting-bees, and on one occasion even went into the 
 house — where men were considered out of place — and sat by 
 her side while she worked on the quilt. 
 
 As he watched her nimble fingers flying swiftly over the 
 quilt he leaned closer to her, and sang softly a stanza of a then 
 popular song of the day : 
 
186 LINCOLN 
 
 " 'If love has a potent, a magical token, 
 A talisman ever resistless and true — 
 A charm that is never evaded or broken, 
 A witchery certain the heart to subdue — 
 'Tis this — and his armory never has furnished 
 So keen and unerring, or polished a dart ; 
 Let beauty direct it, so pointed and burnished, 
 And oh ! it is certain of touching the heart : 
 The bright little needle — the swift flying needle, 
 The needle directed by beauty and art.' " 
 
 Anne's fingers momentarily lost their skill, and she made 
 such irregular and uneven stitches that the hostess noticed it. 
 
 "Abe Lincoln," exclaimed the latter with well simulated 
 asperity — for all New Salem was delighted with the prospect 
 of a wedding between the two — "if you don't stop making love 
 to Anne so that she can quilt, we'll send you away." 
 
 "You wouldn't do that; would you, Aunt Polly?" he asked 
 looking at her with such a light in his eyes that the good woman 
 turned hastily back to her quilt. 
 
 "If ever a man was in love that man is Abe Lincoln," she 
 said afterwards in telling of the incident. "There he sat, making 
 love to Anne as bold as brass; and Anne a blushing her head 
 off. I do declare, I always thought he was as homely as a mud 
 fence, but with that look on his face he's downright hand- 
 some." And for many years she kept the quilt, pointing out 
 the memorable stitches to those who visited her. 
 
 Suddenly all the happy plans came to naught. Lincoln 
 rode out to the farm at Sand Ridge one day, after a short 
 absence on a surveying trip, and found that Anne was ill of a 
 dangerous fever; too ill to see him. Rapidly her condition grew 
 worse, and Lincoln wandered desolately about New Salem like 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW 187 
 
 a man in a dream, with no heart for work or study. One day- 
 late in August, as he was standing at the door of the tavern 
 David Rutledge rode hastily up, calling as he came. 
 
 "Come, Abe! She wants you. She's been asking for you all 
 the time, and father says for you to come quickly. We're 
 afraid — " he choked and could say no more. 
 
 With face like death Lincoln quickly procured a horse and 
 the two galloped swiftly to the farm house. Mrs. Rutledge met 
 them at the door. 
 
 "Be prepared for the worst, Abraham," she murmured 
 brokenly, laying her hand on his arm, but he could not 
 speak. 
 
 Silently he followed her up the stairs. She opened the door, 
 and he passed in. A long agonized hour of farewell followed. 
 Then Lincoln came out, so woefully distressed that he passed 
 unheeding all who would have spoken with him. Soon after 
 Anne passed into unconsciousness, and, a few days later, on 
 August 25, 1835, she died. 
 
 The effect upon Lincoln was terrible. He was plunged in 
 the deepest gloom. The death of one who was dear to him al- 
 ways affected him like a blow. When his mother died he had 
 refused to be comforted. And now, with all the deep, reflective 
 melancholy which was his inheritance from her, he grieved over 
 Anne. His work, his study, his friends were neglected. He did 
 not seem to care for anything. 
 
 He wandered alone by the river, or rambled through the 
 woods, or over the prairies, muttering to himself. And the 
 people of New Salem, who were like one great family, were 
 troubled over him, for he seemed in the shadow of madness. 
 They took counsel, and his friend, Squire Bowling Green who 
 was devoted to him, resolved to take him to his own home. 
 
188 LINCOLN 
 
 Going in search of him he found him in the Concord Ceme- 
 tery, the country burying-ground where they had buried 
 Anne, sitting by her grave. He looked up as Squire Green laid 
 his hand on his shoulder. 
 
 "My heart is buried here, Uncle Bowling," he said bro- 
 kenly. 
 
 "Yes, Abe; I know," spoke the squire soothingly. "But I 
 want you to come home with me now. Nancy wants to see you." 
 
 And Lincoln followed him to his little log-cabin, under the 
 brow of a big bluff all covered with timber, a half mile from 
 New Salem. Nancy, the good wife of the squire, bustled for- 
 ward at their entrance. 
 
 "Why, Abe Lincoln, you look terribly peaked," she cried. 
 "Now you jest set right up to that table, and get some hot 
 vittles inside you. Try to make out a supper, Abe. My men 
 folks are so lazy that they don't keep me in firewood so that I 
 can do the baking I'd like to; but maybe you can find some- 
 thing that you can eat." 
 
 "I'll cut you some firewood, Aunt Nancy," spoke Lincoln. 
 
 "There now! You hear that, squire? Abe will cut me some 
 wood, and I'll get some baking done as is baking." 
 
 Thus, with sweet guile she kept him cutting wood, picking 
 apples, digging potatoes, and doing light chores a'bout the 
 house, while her great-hearted husband sought to lure him 
 back to interest in general things by talking of crops, the petty 
 cases that were to come before him, and of the great future 
 which it was said lay in store for the thriving new town of 
 Chicago in the north. Under their loving care Lincoln slowly 
 regained control of himself, and after many weeks returned to 
 his law studies and his surveying. But he was a changed man. 
 
IN THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW 189 
 
 As poverty had taught him the lessons of brotherhood, so 
 now in the crucible of sorrow he gained insight into the woes 
 of others, and his heart made common cause with all who suf- 
 fered and who tried to rise. 
 
CHAPTER FIFTEEN 
 
 "the long nine" 
 
 In December, 1835, the members of the Legislature were 
 called to an extra session, and young Lincoln laid aside his law 
 books and surveying instruments and went to Vandalia. There 
 were two reasons for the calling of this extra session. The popu- 
 lation had increased so greatly, as was shown by a recent cen- 
 sus, that it had become necessary to reapportion the Legisla- 
 tive districts, a growth which excited the imagination of the 
 State. 
 
 The absorbing topic of the session, however, was the Con- 
 vention system of nominations for public office which had re- 
 cently come into vogue. Up to this time it had been the custom 
 for candidates for office to nominate themselves, and so long 
 as their personal qualifications were considered rather than 
 their politics this method of nomination was possible. With 
 party organization, however, it was obliged to change; for the 
 strength which the Convention system gave a party was too 
 great to be ignored. Its use became an absolute necessity, as 
 it spread rapidly through the States, and eventually the Whigs 
 adopted it as well as the Democrats. 
 
 It was a short session, and at its close Lincoln returned to 
 his surveying in New Salem. As a new Legislature was to be 
 
 190 
 
"THE LONG NINE" 191 
 
 elected this year, in June he announced himself as a candidate 
 for the Tenth Assembly. He began his canvass by the follow- 
 ing circular which appeared in the "Sangamon Journal": 
 
 "New Salem, June 13, 1836. 
 
 "To the Editor of the 'Journal'— 
 
 "In your paper of last Saturday I see a communication, over the 
 signature of 'many voters,' in which the candidates who are announced 
 in the 'Journal' are called upon 'to show their hands.' Agreed. Here's 
 mine. 
 
 "I go for all having the privilege of government who assist in bear- 
 ing its burdens. Consequently, I go for admitting all whites to the 
 right of suffrage who pay taxes or bear arms (by no means excluding 
 females). 
 
 "If elected, I shall consider the whole people of Sangamon my con- 
 stituents, as well those that oppose as those who support me. 
 
 "While acting as their Representative, I shall be governed by their 
 will upon all subjects upon which I have the means of knowing what 
 their will is; and upon all others I shall do what my own judgment 
 teaches me will best advance their interests. Whether elected or not, I 
 go for distributing the proceeds of the sales of public lands to the 
 several States, to enable our State, in common with others, to dig 
 canals and construct railroads without borrowing money, and paying 
 interest upon it. . . ." 
 
 It was an outspoken declaration of principles and intentions, 
 but it suited the temper of the times. It was the custom to avow 
 openly one's platform, although Lincoln was more candid than 
 his friends deemed necessary or wise. It was also the custom 
 to promise exact obedience to the will of the people, and the 
 two questions — suffrage for aliens and the disposition of the 
 proceeds of the sales of public lands — were the vital issues of 
 
192 LINCOLN 
 
 the hour. The young politician left no doubt as to how he stood 
 upon both of them. 
 
 The campaign which Lincoln began with this letter was 
 in every way more exciting for him than those which had pre- 
 ceded it. By the Apportionment Act which had passed the 
 winter before, Sangamon County became entitled to seven 
 Representatives and two Senators, and so many candidates in- 
 creased the enthusiasm of political meetings. 
 
 There were joint discussions, and party lines being more 
 sharply drawn than ever before in the county, there were times 
 when much feeling was exhibited among the candidates. Within 
 a week after he had announced his candidacy, a Colonel Robert 
 Allen, a rival candidate, came through New Salem, during Lin- 
 coln's absence, and stated publicly that he was in possession 
 of facts which, if known to the public, would entirely destroy 
 Lincoln's prospects at the coming election ; but he declared that 
 he thought so much of Lincoln that he would not tell what 
 he knew. 
 
 Lincoln was much exercised over the matter when his friends 
 told him what the man had said. He knew that he had been 
 guilty of no action upon which Allen could base any such 
 charges; so, in an effort to "smoke him out," he wrote to him: 
 
 "Dear Colonel — : 
 
 "I am told that during my absence last week you passed through 
 the place and stated publicly that you were in possession of a fact or 
 facts, which if known to the public would entirely destroy my pros- 
 pects at the ensuing election, but that through favor to me you would 
 not divulge them. No one has needed favors more than I, and gen- 
 erally few have been less unwilling to accept them, but in this case 
 favor to me would be injustice to the public, and therefore I must 
 beg your pardon for declining it. 
 
'THE LONG NINE" 193 
 
 "I find myself wholly unable to form any conjecture of what fact 
 or facts, real or supposed, you spoke; but my opinion of your veracity 
 will not permit me for a moment to doubt that you at least believed 
 what you said. ... I do hope that on mature reflection you will view 
 the public interest as a paramount consideration and therefore let the 
 worst come." 
 
 Now Allen was in politics the most unreliable man in Sanga- 
 mon County, so it was a foregone conclusion that he would not 
 answer the letter ; but Lincoln was thoroughly warmed up and 
 waited the outcome with blood in his eye. However, as every 
 one foresaw, the Colonel was glad to crawl to cover, and noth- 
 ing more was heard from him. 
 
 It was amazing how Lincoln's popularity was extending to 
 all parts of the county. He was gaining in power, too, as an 
 orator. He always had something to say, and his powers 
 of persuasion were extraordinary. So able was he becom- 
 ing in his speeches that he was sweeping everything before 
 him, and his opponents realized that something must be 
 done to stem his progress. It was determined to attack him 
 publicly. 
 
 A few days before the election a great mass meeting was 
 held at Springfield for a public discussion by the opposing 
 candidates of the questions involved in the canvass, and a large 
 number of citizens gathered in the court-house to hear the 
 speeches. All the candidates had spoken, leaving Lincoln as the 
 last on the programme. He made a very able speech, using 
 with great power and originality all the arguments used to 
 sustain the principles of the Whig party as against its great 
 rival — the Democratic party. The speech produced a profound 
 impression — the crowd was with him, and he swayed it as he 
 pleased. So deep an impression did he make that George For- 
 
194 LINCOLN 
 
 quer, a man of prominence and ability, and of much celebrity 
 as a sarcastic speaker, arose and asked the people to hear him. 
 "Mr. Forquer was not a candidate; he had been a Whig, but 
 had recently joined the Democratic party, and almost simul- 
 taneously with the change had been appointed Register of the 
 Land Office, which office he then held. At the same time he 
 had completed a neat, frame house — the best house then in 
 Springfield — and over it had erected a lightning-rod, the only 
 one in the place." 1 
 
 Mr. Forquer began his speech by saying that this young 
 man would have to be taken down, and that he was sorry that 
 the task devolved upon him. He made what was called one of 
 his "slasher-gaff" speeches, booming Lincoln's opponent, and 
 ridiculing Lincoln himself, and, with much pomposity, derid- 
 ing him as an "uncouth youngster." 
 
 Lincoln stood near with arms folded, never interrupting him. 
 He was laboring under a good deal of suppressed excitement 
 as was evidenced by his flashing eyes and pale cheeks. When 
 Forquer 'had finished speaking he took the stand, and replied 
 in a speech characterized by great dignity and force; ending 
 with: 
 
 "The gentleman commenced his speech by saying that this 
 young man would have to be 'taken down, and he was sorry the 
 task devolved upon him.' I am not so young in years as 
 I am in the tricks and trade of a politician; but live long or 
 die young, I would rather die now than, like the gentleman, 
 change my politics and simultaneously with the change receive 
 an office worth three thousand dollars a year, and then have 
 to erect a lightning-rod over my house to protect a guilty con- 
 science from an offended God." 
 
 i Herndon. 
 
"THE LONG NINE" 195 
 
 The effect upon the audience was electrical. There came a 
 roar of applause; then, with a mighty shout, they rushed for- 
 ward, seized Lincoln, and bore him from the platform upon 
 their shoulders. It tickled their fancy to have the tables turned 
 upon the pompous, vain-glorious man by the youngster he was 
 deriding, and it was many a long day ere George Forquer 
 heard the last of his lightning-rod. 
 
 Men were careful after that how they attacked Lincoln. 
 
 The election came off in August, and this time Lincoln led 
 the ticket. Hitherto the Democrats had always carried Sanga- 
 mon County, but this year the Whigs completely defeated 
 them. The delegation chosen was one famous in the annals of 
 Illinois. Each of the nine men composing it was over six feet 
 in height, and in weight over two hundred pounds. Sangamon 
 County at once gave them the name of "The Long Nine"; Lin- 
 coln being the tallest of the lot. 
 
 As soon as the election was over Lincoln took his examina- 
 tion at Springfield, and was admitted to the Bar, receiving his 
 license September 9th, 1836. His name was enrolled upon the 
 official list of attorneys and counsellors at law March 1st, 
 1837. He made his first appearance in October of 1836 in the 
 case of Hawthorne against Woolbridge. 
 
 Lincoln still continued his surveying, however. It did not 
 seem wise to drop it until he was more fully established as a 
 lawyer, and for many weeks at a time he was absent from New 
 Salem laying out new towns or locating new roads. But in De- 
 cember he dropped everything to go to Vandalia for the open- 
 ing of the Tenth Assembly. 
 
 It was an historic session; chiefly notable for the adoption 
 of a great system of public improvements that called for the 
 expenditure of millions of dollars; the removal of the State 
 
196 LINCOLN 
 
 capital from Vandalia; and for its connection with the begin- 
 ning of Lincoln's anti-slavery history. 
 
 Lincoln voted with his colleagues for a great system of in- 
 ternal improvements, but he took no prominent part in the 
 work. He was chiefly concerned in the removal of the capital 
 from Vandalia, and was anxious to secure it for Springfield. 
 To him had been entrusted the task to accomplish the measure. 
 It took patient and clever manipulation to put the bill to secure 
 the capital for Springfield through, but at length all obstacles 
 were surmounted and only a short time before the close of the 
 session it was passed by a joint vote of both houses. Springfield 
 was to be the capital of the State, and to Lincoln was conceded 
 the credit of obtaining it. 
 
 And then, as the distant muttering of thunder foretells the 
 coming storm, so a note of warning sounded in the Tenth As- 
 sembly. 
 
 The agitation of the question of human slavery was just be- 
 ginning to cause uneasiness among slave-holders and politi- 
 cians. A conviction was spreading among men and women of 
 the North that slavery was wrong, and Anti-slavery Societies 
 were being formed in several of the States. The South pro- 
 tested, and the statesmen of the North joined them in their pro- 
 test. Neither North nor South doubted that the Constitution 
 protected the institution of slavery, that the South must be sup- 
 ported in its claims ; and that -agitation against the right to hold 
 slaves must be stopped. 
 
 But the agitation went on, and wherever agitators and pro- 
 slavery sentiment met there was violence. Mass-meetings of 
 citizens were held, the United States Congress, the States Legis- 
 latures, took up the question, and again and again voted reso- 
 lutions assuring the South that the Abolitionists were not 
 
"THE LONG NINE" 197 
 
 supported ; that the country recognized their right to hold slaves. 
 Being largely of Southern blood, and also bound to the 
 States south of the Ohio River by the interests of trade, it is 
 not to be wondered at that the prevailing sentiment of Illinois 
 was in favor of slavery, or in favor of slave-holders in the ex- 
 ercise of their legal and constitutional rights. Both Whigs and 
 Democrats alike hated and despised the Abolitionists, though 
 there was undoubtedly some anti-slave sentiment among the 
 Whigs; but it was weak. The Illinois Legislature, therefore, 
 joined in the general disapproval of the agitation by passing 
 Resolutions, declaring, 
 
 "That we highly disapprove of the formation of Abolition Societies 
 and of the doctrines promulgated by them. 
 
 "That the right of property in slaves is sacred to the slave-holding 
 States by the Federal Constitution, and they cannot be deprived of 
 that right without their consent. 
 
 "That the General Government cannot abolish slavery in the Dis- 
 trict of Columbia against the consent of the citizens of that District, 
 without a manifest breach of good faith." 
 
 Lincoln did not vote for these Resolutions. Instead, he drew 
 up a protest against them, and solicited his colleagues to sign 
 it with him. They all declined, however, save one — Daniel 
 Stone, and the protest was spread upon the "Journal of the 
 House." It read : 
 
 "Resolutions upon the subject of domestic slavery having passed 
 both branches of the General Assembly at its present session, the un- 
 dersigned hereby protest against the passage of the same. 
 
 "They believe that the institution of slavery is founded on both in- 
 justice and bad policy, but that the promulgation of abolition doc- 
 trines tends rather to increase than abate its evils. 
 
 "They believe that the Congress of the United States has no power 
 
198 LINCOLN 
 
 under the Constitution to interfere with the institution of slavery in 
 the different States. 
 
 "They believe that the Congress of the United States has the power 
 under the Constitution to abolish slavery in the District of Columbia, 
 but that the power ought not to be exercised unless at the request of 
 the people of the District. 
 
 "The difference between these opinions and those contained in the 
 above Resolutions in their reason for entering this protest. 
 
 "Dan. Stone. 
 "A. Lincoln. 
 
 "Representatives of the County of Sangamon." 
 
 Certainly the protest was a mild one, but only two men were 
 brave enough to sign it. It was in truth a bold thing to say that 
 the institution of slavery was founded on injustice and bad 
 policy, when the temper of the times is considerd. Lincoln, 
 however, believed that it was his duty to enter the protest, so he 
 did it. All unconsciously he had made the first step towards 
 what was to be the supreme work of his life. 
 
 The Long Nine received a royal welcome when they re- 
 turned to Sangamon County at the end of the session. The 
 greatness of the feat of moving the State capital to Springfield 
 was hailed with acclaim, and the long-limbed group were com- 
 plimented in the newspapers, at public meetings, and even at 
 subscription dinners. At one of these latter, sixty guests sat 
 down, and among the toasts given on this occasion were two 
 in praise of Lincoln: 
 
 "Abraham Lincoln — he has fulfilled the expectations of his 
 friends, and disappointed the hopes of his enemies." 
 
 "A. Lincoln: one of Nature's noblemen." 
 
 After these festivities were ended Lincoln returned thought- 
 fully to New Salem. 
 
CHAPTER SIXTEEN 
 
 THE SANGAMON CHIEF 
 
 He returned to New Salem thoughtfully for Lincoln was 
 considering a proposition that had been made to him. Major 
 John T. Stuart, his former comrade in the Black Hawk War, 
 who, by the loan of sundry books had encouraged him in the 
 study of law, had asked him to come into his office at Spring- 
 field as his partner. William Butler, Stephen Logan, and other 
 friends all believed that the time had come when he should seek 
 a larger field for his activities. Mr. Butler especially urged 
 him to take up his residence at the new seat of government, and 
 Lincoln was considering the matter seriously. He would not 
 be wholly unknown. He had made many speeches there, and 
 had been instrumental in getting the capital for the place 
 which would be a favorable introduction for him. But the 
 thought of leaving New Salem was a saddening one. 
 
 The little village was filled with his friends. There was not 
 a building or a home that was not intimately connected with 
 him in some way. He had entered the place a friendless lad and 
 the people had taken him to their hearts. They had watched his 
 progress with keenest interest, aided him when he needed aid, 
 and loved and appreciated him. The six years he had been there 
 
 199 
 
200 LINCOLN 
 
 had wrought a great transformation in him. He had come to 
 it a strong young fellow, a pioneer, proud of his height and his 
 great strength, able to meet all comers physically ; able also to 
 read and to write ; Was master of a few books, and possessed of 
 a great desire for knowledge. Now he was a competent sur- 
 veyor, a member of the Bar, a Representative in the Legisla- 
 ture, and he had learned to measure his intellectual strength 
 against that of other men. He had been unlearned in many 
 things ; now, though he had very little money, he was reckoned 
 a young man of ability and promise. Still, he would be leaving 
 behind him all the stepping stones by which he had mounted to 
 the elevation he had reached. 
 
 New Salem, however, was "winking out," he told himself. 
 Many of its people were leaving for more accessible communi- 
 ties, taking with them their belongings and their homes. Others 
 were talking of going. The postoffice had been discontinued; 
 the village was in truth "winking out." It was time to go. 
 
 But the new venture was a doubtful one. Going into a law 
 office meant the giving up of his surveying by which he had 
 earned a livelihood, paid on his debts, and kept up his credit. It 
 was a risk, but there is no venture in life that is unattended by 
 risk. Carefully the young man weighed the pros and cons of 
 the matter. He decided to make the move. 
 
 So it came about that, after brief visits and talks with friends 
 and neighbors, on a day in April, 1837, Abraham Lincoln 
 packed all his worldly belongings into a pair of saddle-bags 
 that were none too full, threw them over the back of a borrowed 
 horse, and left the little log-cabin hamlet on the bluff of the 
 Sangamon, and rode forth to take up his residence in Spring- 
 field. 
 
 But it was with no exultation that he entered his new home. 
 
"THE SANGAMON CHIEF" 201 
 
 On the contrary he was filled with misgivings. He had very 
 little money, and there was lodging and board to be provided 
 for while waiting for clients. He was painfully aware of his 
 poverty, his lack of education, and his utter ignorance of the 
 usages of society. Springfield was a small place, but one with 
 many pretensions to elegance. Lincoln knew that he was con- 
 fronting a social world more formidably correct than anything 
 he had yet seen. 
 
 So, a prey to the deepest depression, he tied his horse to a 
 fence, and taking his saddle-bags, entered the general store of 
 Mr. Joshua Speed, a prosperous young merchant from Ken- 
 tucky, and set them dejectedly upon the counter. Mr. Speed 
 came forward at once. 
 
 "What can I do for you, Mr. Lincoln?" he inquired. 
 
 "I want to know what the furnishings for a single bedstead 
 would cost, Mr. Speed," Lincoln answered. 
 
 "Going to move among us, Mr. Lincoln?" queried the young 
 merchant as he took slate and pencil and began to make the 
 estimate. 
 
 "Yes ; and I thought it would be best to hire a room, furnish 
 it, and browse around for my sustenance." 
 
 "The furniture complete will amount to seventeen dollars, 
 Mr. Lincoln," Speed told him after a brief calculation. 
 
 "That is probably cheap enough," said Lincoln sadly; "but 
 I want to say that, cheap as it is, I have not the money to pay. 
 But if you will credit me until Christmas, and my experiment 
 here as a lawyer is a success, I will pay you then. If I fail in 
 that I will probably never pay you at all." 
 
 Speed glanced at him quickly. As he said afterwards he 
 thought he had never seen so gloomy and melancholy a face 
 in his life. He had heard Lincoln speak, and admired him 
 
202 LINCOLN 
 
 greatly. He was from Kentucky, and had heard all the great 
 orators of that gifted State. He was wont to say, however, that 
 he considered Abraham Lincoln the equal of any of them. So 
 now he said quickly : 
 
 "So small a debt seems to affect you so deeply, I think I can 
 suggest a plan by which you will be able to attain your end 
 without incurring any debt. I have a very large room and a 
 very large double bed in it, which you are perfectly welcome 
 to share with me, if you choose." 
 
 "Where is your room?" asked Lincoln. 
 
 "Upstairs," said Speed pointing to the stairs which led from 
 the store to the room above. 
 
 Without a word Lincoln took his saddle-bags on his arm, 
 went up the stairs, set them on the floor, came down again with 
 a face beaming with pleasure and smiles, and exclaimed : 
 
 "Well, Speed, I'm moved." So simply was hospitality given 
 and accepted in those times. "Heart room, house room" was 
 the motto of the country. 
 
 So life began in Springfield. The friendship between him- 
 self and the young merchant became so real, so deep and abid- 
 ing that it can be compared only to that of Damon and Pythias. 
 Abraham Lincoln had the power of drawing friends and unit- 
 ing them to himself with bands of steel. It is doubtful, however, 
 if he ever had a more intimate friend than Joshua Speed. 
 
 The little town of Springfield, with a population of about 
 fifteen hundred, lay between the woods on the north, and the 
 prairie on the south. A large square was in the centre of the 
 place about which, grouped in a straggling line, were the court- 
 house, the churches, the banks, and other public buildings of the 
 village. The houses were mostly of wood, set in rectangular 
 blocks; and there were no pavements or sidewalks. The streets 
 
"THE SANGAMON CHIEF" 203 
 
 were of the black, prairie dirt, the richest of soils, but of un- 
 fathomable depth in time of thaw. A small crude town, but it 
 had high standards of civilization. Families of wealth and cul- 
 ture were there; many of them from the South, but a few of 
 high character from the East were among them. The citizens 
 were imbued with the spirit of push and enterprise ; so, though 
 it seemed to Lincoln that there was a great deal of flourishing 
 about in carriages, he could not have been placed in a better 
 or more appreciative community. 
 
 The county-court had its offices on the first floor of one of 
 the largest buildings on the square, at its northwest corner. 
 The rooms on the second floor were let to lawyers, and directly 
 over the court-room was the law office of the new firm of Stuart 
 and Lincoln. It was a small room, unpretentious in appear- 
 ance. Its furnishings comprised a chair, over which a buffalo 
 robe was flung, in which the junior partner was wont to sit and 
 study, a hard wooden bench, a table which served as a desk, 
 a rude bookcase, and a small bed. 
 
 Lincoln found Suart very deeply absorbed in politics. In 
 fact, he had just been defeated in a race for Congress, and was 
 already preparing for the next campaign, so that most of the 
 responsibility in the management of the business and the con- 
 duct of cases developed upon Lincoln. He brought into his prac- 
 tice the same charity and kindness that he had shown as a la- 
 borer, a storekeeper, and a surveyor. The qualities that had won 
 him the title of "Honest Abe" still stuck to him. He was an 
 honest lawyer; he never undertook a case of doubtful morality. 
 
 Once when it was shown that his client had been guilty of 
 fraud he walked out of the court-room and refused to continue 
 the trial. The judge sent a messenger, directing him to return, 
 but he positively declined. 
 
204 LINCOLN 
 
 "Tell the judge that my hands are dirty, and that I have 
 gone away to wash them," was the answer he sent back. 
 
 He soon became as well known on the streets of Springfield 
 as he had been on those of New Salem. Street discussions were 
 characteristic of the place. "There was scarcely a day or an 
 hour when a knot of men might not have been seen near the 
 door of some prominent store, or about the steps of the court- 
 house, eagerly discussing a current political topic. The men 
 from the country, the farmers and pioneers, always gathered 
 eagerly about these groups and listened with open-mouthed 
 interest, frequently manifesting their approval or dissent in 
 strong words, and carrying away to their neighborhoods a re- 
 port of the debater's wit and skill." It was considered a great 
 treat when Lincoln came among them for then they were sure 
 to have some of the stories for which he already had a reputa- 
 tion. So he became established as an excellent talker, the life 
 and soul of these little gatherings, a story-teller of the first 
 rank, and a good-natured, friendly fellow whom everybody 
 liked and trusted. 
 
 Beside the gatherings about the stores and county-offices 
 there was a society which contained all the culture and talent 
 of the town. It was called "The Young Men's Lyceum," and 
 its meetings were public. Lincoln was asked towards the end 
 of his first year in Springfield, to speak before it, to which he 
 consented with reluctance. Not that he minded making a 
 speech, but the fact that the beauty and fashion of the place 
 would be present filled him with trepidation. Lincoln was at 
 home with all men, no matter what their class or station in life 
 might be ; but he was aware that he was deficient in those little 
 things that please the ladies, and this lack made him timid and 
 bashful with them. 
 
"THE SANGAMON CHIEF" 205 
 
 "I'm like the Irishman, Speed," he said in response to his 
 friend who was rallying him on the subject. "Pat was brave 
 enough when no danger was near, but he invariably retreated 
 without orders at the first charge of the engagement. On being 
 asked why he did so, he replied, 'Captain, I have as brave a heart 
 as Julius Ca3sar ever had, but somehow or other whenever dan- 
 ger approaches, my cowardly legs will run away with it.' And 
 so, no matter how bold a front I put up, whenever I meet with 
 society women my heels itch to carry me away from them." 
 
 "You must get over that, Lincoln," said Speed laughing. 
 
 But, despite the fact that he was to deliver the speech be- 
 fore an audience that would include fashionable women, Lin- 
 coln prepared his address carefully. There were now three 
 other young men in the room above the store beside himself 
 and Speed, and long after the others had gone to sleep he 
 would lie sprawled on the floor with his pillow and candle work- 
 ing on his speech. It was finished at length, and delivered with 
 such effect that "The Sangamon Journal" published it in full, 
 and it created for the young orator a reputation which ex- 
 tended beyond the limits of the locality in which he lived. 
 
 He had taken for his subject the "Perpetuation of Our Free 
 Institutions"; the inspiration and burthen of which was Law 
 and Order. It was the address of a thinking man, an ardent and 
 devoted patriot. It was a speech appropriate to that time, and 
 to all times. 
 
 Lincoln was being recognized as a man of mark and power, 
 and as foremost among the Whigs in the Legislature. And so, 
 upon his re-election to the General Assembly in 1838, "the 
 Sangamon Chief," as he had been properly named, was chosen 
 by the Whigs as their candidate for Speaker of the House. The 
 Democratic nominee, William L. D. Ewing, however, was 
 
206 LINCOLN 
 
 selected by a majority of one vote. Lincoln took part in all 
 the debates of this session which was the last one held in Van- 
 dalia. 
 
 At its close the Governor with the archives and offices of 
 State Government moved to Springfield. The State-house was 
 not yet completed so the churches were used for the meetings 
 when a session of the Legislature was held. The moving of the 
 capital to Springfield called numbers of persons of influence 
 from almost every part of the State to the place, and Lincoln, 
 as a Legislator, naturally met with all of them thus adding to 
 his already extensive acquaintance. 
 
 At this time there lived in Springfield a remarkable group 
 of young men. They were brilliant and promising ; conspicuous 
 figures in Illinois politics, subsequently becoming celebrated 
 throughout the country. They were accustomed to gather 
 around the fireplace in the rear of Joshua Speed's store eve- 
 nings to discuss the issues of the times. Among them were Lin- 
 coln, Stephen A. Douglas, Calhoun, Baker, Lamborne, Jesse 
 B. Thomas, and others. So brilliant and enthusiastic were the 
 discussions of these young statesmen that many of the towns- 
 people came in to listen to them, and they became the talk of 
 the place. 
 
 One evening the conversation turned on political matters. 
 There were as many Democrats as Whigs among the group, 
 and the discussion waxed warm and acrimonious. Stephen A. 
 Douglas was leading on the Democratic side. He charged the 
 Whigs with every blunder and political crime he could think 
 of; ending abruptly by exclaiming vehemently: 
 
 "I challenge any or all of you who differ with me to discuss 
 the matter publicly. This store is no place to talk politics." 
 
 "There are some things," observed Lincoln dryly, "that can 
 
'THE SANGAMON CHIEF" 207 
 
 only be cured by the hair off the same dog. I reckon we'll have 
 to take up that challenge, boys." 
 
 So a political tournament was entered into. It took place 
 in the Presbyterian Church after both sides had assiduously 
 prepared for the trial. Douglas, Calhoun, Lamborne, and 
 Thomas represented the Democrats; and Logan, Baker, 
 Browning, and Lincoln, in the order named, presented the 
 Whig side of the question. One evening was given to each man, 
 and it therefore required over a week to complete the joust. 
 It began with great enthusiasm and crowded houses, but by 
 the time it came to Lincoln's turn to close the debate the peo- 
 ple had grown a little tired, and the audience was small. Lin- 
 coln's spirits were depressed by this fact. He declared that it 
 threw a wet blanket over him, and he feared its effect would 
 be such that he could not do justice to himself. But his speech 
 was considered the best of the series, and there was such a de- 
 mand for it that it was printed, and circulated in the spring as 
 a campaign document. He was very impressive, devoting part 
 of his address to a careful examination of the statements of his 
 opponents, and refuting them by means of public documents. 
 He closed with a fervid climax of devotion and defiance: 
 
 "If ever I feel the soul within me elevate and expand to 
 those dimensions not wholly unworthy of its Almighty Archi- 
 tect it is when I contemplate the cause of my country deserted 
 by all the world besides, and I standing up boldly and 
 alone hurling defiance at her victorious oppressors. Here 
 without contemplating consequences before high Heaven and 
 in the face of the world I swear eternal fidelity to the just 
 cause, as I deem it, of the land of my life, my liberty, and my 
 love." 
 
 The Convention system was now being used by the Whigs, 
 
208 LINCOLN 
 
 and in 1840 they placed Lincoln again upon the Legislative 
 ticket. Though he was being drawn more and more towards the 
 law Lincoln consented to this. As the Legislature now met at 
 Springfield he would be at home, and could have a care that 
 his professional interests were not sacrificed. It was a campaign 
 of noise and fun, filled with the villification of politics. But 
 Lincoln was better able to endure such things now than when 
 he first offered himself to the voters of New Salem. 
 
 A prominent Democrat, Jesse B. Thomas, attacked "the 
 Long Nine" in a speech at the court-house, reflecting some- 
 what more on Lincoln than he did on the rest. When he had 
 finished Lincoln stepped upon the platform and replied in a 
 speech that was both witty and severe, and so caustic that it 
 was long known in political circles as "The Skinning of 
 Thomas." 
 
 Men were beginning to know that Lincoln could defend 
 himself, and he became doubly respected as an opponent, for 
 his good-humored raillery had been already established in his 
 campaigns. 
 
 One evening Lincoln, tired out with a day's campaigning, 
 went to the office and laid down upon the small bed to rest. A 
 young fellow, Milton Hay, who had asked to come into the 
 office to study law with him, was his only companion. The 
 young man was deep in study and all was quiet, when all at 
 once a great uproar sounded from the room below. As has 
 been said, the law office of Stuart and Lincoln was directly over 
 the Court-room. Before the building was used for the courts 
 and offices it had been a store-house, and a trap-door opened 
 through the floor into the hall below. A political meeting had 
 been under way, and E. D. Baker, a friend of Lincoln, was 
 addressing the crowd. Mr. Baker was a fiery, impulsive young 
 
"THE SANGAMON CHIEF" 209 
 
 man, and during his remarks he assailed the Democrats very 
 hotly. This angered some of the rough element of the audience, 
 and instantly a tumult arose. With cries of — "Pull him down! 
 Throw him out!" there came a rush towards the platform where 
 Baker stood. 
 
 Just then Lincoln threw back the trap-door, thrust a pair 
 of long legs through the aperture, and then dropped lightly to 
 the platform below, and stood by the side of Baker. Motion- 
 ing with his hand for silence, he shouted: 
 
 "Hold on, gentlemen, this is a land of free speech. Mr. 
 Baker has a right to be heard. I am here to protect him and no 
 man shall take him from this stand, if I can prevent it." 
 
 Lincoln's reputation for courage and muscle were such that 
 the crowd knew that he would do what he said. Quiet was re- 
 stored, and Baker was allowed to proceed. 
 
 The local campaign, however, was overshadowed by the 
 Presidential one of that year. Martin Van Buren was nomi- 
 nated by the Democrats, and General William H. Harrison 
 by the Whigs. Lincoln was one of the Presidential electors on 
 the Harrison ticket. He threw himself heart and soul into the 
 campaign, making speeches, and going on long expeditions for 
 the sake of his candidate. Harrison lived in Ohio, where he 
 had been one of the earlier pioneers. "The dwelling of the 
 pioneer, of course, was a log-cabin ; his favorite drink was sup- 
 posed to be hard cider." In a very short time the Harrison cam- 
 paign became the "log-cabin and hard-cider campaign." Even 
 in the staid old-fashioned cities and towns of the Eastern 
 States, log-cabins were built as rallying-places. Campaign 
 songsters, flags, and all sorts of inventions to stir up the people 
 were scattered broadcast over the country. 
 
 The monster political meetings held throughout the State 
 
210 LINCOLN 
 
 did much to widen Lincoln's reputation, particularly one held 
 in Springfield in June. Twenty thousand people attended this 
 meeting, delegations coming from all directions. "They came 
 in carriages and wagons, on horseback and on foot. They came 
 with log-cabins drawn on wheels by oxen, and with coons, coon- 
 skins, and hard cider. They came with music and banners ; and 
 thousands of them from long distances." * There were a number 
 of distinguished speakers of the Whig party of Illinois present, 
 but Abraham Lincoln made the principal address of the day. 
 
 He was but thirty-one years of age, and yet he was regarded 
 as one of the ablest Whig speakers in the campaign. Even 
 then he was the subject of popular regard because of his can- 
 did and simple mode of discussing and illustrating political 
 questions. 
 
 The campaign ended in his election to the Legislature. He 
 was again the Whig candidate for Speaker of the House, but, 
 as before, was beaten by the Democratic nominee, William L. 
 D. Ewing, by a small majority. Abraham Lincoln was grow- 
 ing. Wise men began to have confidence in his future. 
 
 i General T. J. Henderson. Tarbell's Life of Lincoln. 
 
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 
 
 A TEMPESTUOUS COURTSHIP 
 
 As has been said, Lincoln was not a "Ladies' Man," but as 
 his acquaintance widened his social horizon expanded also. Be- 
 ing a rising young lawyer, and a man who had already suc- 
 ceeded in obtaining no "inconsiderable political recognition," 
 with a future full of promise before him, he numbered many 
 men of wealth and standing among his friends; therefore he 
 was welcomed into the best homes of Springfield. Women 
 thought him odd and homely ; but once they pierced through his 
 "peculiar manner," they found him simple, kindly, honest, and 
 sincere. They noticed that while he seemed to enjoy the com- 
 pany of ladies he did not care much for society. And, in truth, 
 while Lincoln had by this time overcome to a great extent his 
 shyness in the presence of society women, he never felt thor- 
 oughly at ease at the fashionable balls, parties, and other social 
 functions with which the prairie capital enlivened its evenings. 
 
 There were many attractive young ladies in Springfield, but 
 
 in 1839 there came one whose advent caused quite a furore 
 
 among the young men of the place. Miss Mary Todd was the 
 
 daughter of a banker of Lexington, Kentucky, and the sister 
 
 of the wife of Ninian W. Edwards, one of Springfield's most 
 
 211 
 
212 LINCOLN 
 
 prominent citizens. This daughter of a long line of distin- 
 guished ancestors at once took a leading position in society, 
 becoming one of its belles by virtue of her graces and attrac- 
 tions as well as by right of birth. 
 
 Miss Todd was twenty-one years old when she came to 
 Springfield, and was a brilliant, vivacious, highly-educated 
 young girl, ambitious and spirited. She had rich dark brown 
 hair, grayish-blue eyes, was of medium height, proud in her 
 bearing, with charming and affable manners. The Edwards 
 mansion, which kept open house with true Southern hospitality, 
 became gayer than ever after she became a member of the f am- 
 
 ily- 
 
 "Have you called on the new belle, Lincoln?" asked Joshua 
 Speed one evening shortly after the young lady's arrival. 
 
 "The new belle? Whom do you mean?" asked Lincoln in- 
 differently, picking up a book, and settling himself for an eve- 
 ning's reading. 
 
 "Why, Miss Todd, of course. Haven't you heard of her? 
 The town talks of no one else." 
 
 "I believe Stuart did speak of her." Lincoln fingered his 
 book longingly, but Speed persisted: 
 
 "Aren't you interested, Lincoln? Why, she's as brilliant and 
 dainty as a butterfly. She may be your fate!" 
 
 "Hardly," laughed Lincoln. "Butterflies don't mate with 
 bears." 
 
 "Don't you ever think of getting married, old fellow?" que- 
 ried his friend. 
 
 "I used to; but I have about come to the conclusion never 
 again to think of it." 
 
 "But why? Sometimes a wife is a good thing for a man. 
 Look at Mrs. Edwards! Ninian couldn't get along without 
 
A TEMPESTUOUS COURTSHIP 213 
 
 her. But coming back to Miss Mary; I am going over to call 
 this evening. Come along! You must pay your respects to her 
 sometime; why not now?" 
 
 "Oh, well!" sighed Lincoln. "As well tonight as any time. 
 I'll have to slick up a little though." 
 
 So Lincoln accompanied his friend to call on Miss Todd. He 
 found a stylishly dressed young woman who entertained them 
 charmingly. She was brilliant, vivid, witty, and accomplished; 
 possessed of all the graces and amenities of the aristocrat. She 
 had been educated in the best schools of Kentucky, could read 
 and speak French fluently, was versed in belles-lettres, and 
 was much interested in politics, as were most girls of the 
 period. Lincoln had never met any one like her. She was a 
 revelation to him. So deeply impressed was he by her grace and 
 charm and fine manners and beauty that he talked about her 
 with enthusiasm after he and Speed took their leave. Speed 
 smiled wisely as he listened ; a smile that frequently came to his 
 lips in the days that followed as he noted that this visit was 
 succeeded soon by another, and another; and still others. 
 
 But Lincoln did not have the field to himself. There were 
 many young, unmarried men in Springfield, drawn there by 
 politics, and Miss Todd was the recipient of much attention 
 from them. And among them was Stephen A. Douglas. As a 
 "society man Douglas was infinitely more accomplished, more 
 attractive, and more influential than Lincoln," and he became 
 unremitting in his attentions to the lady. Indeed, it seemed 
 fated that Douglas and Lincoln should be pitted against each 
 other in every walk of life, social as well as political. To the 
 amazement of all her friends, however, Mary Todd soon 
 showed that she preferred the sad-eyed, homely, and awkward 
 Lincoln to Douglas or any of her many suitors. She was pos- 
 
214 LINCOLN 
 
 sessed of an intuitive judgment of men and their motives, and 
 she had glimpsed Lincoln's rare personality. 
 
 She had heard him speak, and had watched the change his 
 appearance underwent under the stress of his feeling. She had 
 seen the wonderful fires of the deep-set gray eyes under the 
 broad idealistic brow when the sensitive soul of the man flashed 
 flamelike with strong emotion. At such times his form lost its 
 awkwardness, and his face took on a noble and impressive 
 beauty. She had the insight to recognize his power and the 
 strength of his spirit. 
 
 So Lincoln found his visits encouraged. They went about 
 together everywhere, and he found himself more and more at- 
 tracted by her sagacity and wit. At this juncture, Mr. and 
 Mrs. Edwards protested. 
 
 "He is a good, honest, sincere young man," they told Miss 
 Todd. "We admire him greatly, but he is not suited for you, 
 Mary. And, furthermore, he comes of a poor and humble fam- 
 ily, and you are an aristocrat. There are other young men who 
 would be far more congenial and suitable than he." 
 
 "Pooh!" spoke Miss Todd contemptuously. "He's worth 
 more than all the others put together. Where are your eyes?" 
 
 "But, Mary," cried Mrs. Edwards, "what about your ambi- 
 tions ? You have always declared that you were going to marry 
 a President." 
 
 "And so I shall if I marry Abraham Lincoln," declared Miss 
 Todd. "There is more probability of Abraham Lincoln being 
 a President than of any one else in Springfield." 
 
 "Why, Mary," ejaculated her sister. "He may come to the 
 Governorship of the State; Ninian thinks it very likely. He 
 may even be a Congressman, but President — No. And, too, 
 Mr. Lincoln uses queer pronunciations for some words. Why, 
 
A TEMPESTUOUS COURTSHIP 215 
 
 he says 'cheer' for chair; 'legislatur' for legislature; and uses 
 other old-fashioned pronunciations." 
 
 This was a fact, and to the end of his life Lincoln adhered 
 to such usages. But Miss Todd only laughed. She loved Lin- 
 coln, and being a young lady of determination she continued 
 to encourage her ungainly suitor. 
 
 Matters were at this stage during the campaign of 1840 into 
 which Lincoln threw himself with enthusiasm. It had been long 
 since he had been so happy. Financially things were easier for 
 him than they had ever been. He had an extensive practice; 
 though the cases were not such as would warrant large fees 
 they yet brought in enough for a livelihood. He was slowly but 
 surely getting out of debt, and by the August election was 
 again made a member of the Legislature. Above all else, there 
 was a brilliant and fascinating woman, who, he was beginning 
 to believe, would be willing to link her life with his. So, when 
 the National Election ended in November with the election of 
 William Henry Harrison as President, he came back from a 
 campaign expedition for his candidate with the determination 
 to put his fate to the test by asking Miss Todd to be his wife. 
 
 There was to be a monster celebration by the Whigs in honor 
 of their victory, and he was to escort Miss Todd. Accordingly, 
 he hastened to the Edwards mansion, just across from the new 
 State House, where he found her waiting for him in the par- 
 lor. 
 
 "To the victor belongs the spoils," she cried gaily as he 
 entered. She had not seen him since the result of the election 
 had become known. "What shall you ask as a reward for your 
 work, Mr. Lincoln? Do you wish to be a Cabinet member, or 
 an Ambassador? Mr. Harrison should give you whatever you 
 want. I'm sure you have earned it." 
 
216 LINCOLN 
 
 "Mr. Harrison can not give me what I want more than any- 
 thing else," said Lincoln with a look that made Miss Todd 
 tremble. "Mary, could you by any possible chance care for an 
 uncouth, awkward fellow as I am? Could you?" 
 
 Mary Todd grew pale. She loved Abraham Lincoln. "I not 
 only could, but I do," she said in a low tone. 
 
 And so they became engaged. 
 
 Up to this time the courtship had progressed smoothly, but 
 before long there came clashes that were inevitable between 
 people whose upbringing had differed so materially. Miss Todd 
 was young, and she loved parties, dances, all kinds of social 
 gayeties. Lincoln was thirty-one, and neither his breeding nor 
 inclination fitted him for such things. He frequently failed to 
 accompany her to the merry-makings, and she resented it. She 
 had been courted and flattered all her life; was accustomed to 
 assiduous attentions from her suitors, and it seemed to her like 
 neglect or indifference when Lincoln did not play the gallant 
 to her notion. She was exacting, expecting him always to be 
 at her side. When he missed being with her she accepted at- 
 tention from others. The handsome and dashing Stephen A. 
 Douglas was always ready to play the escort, and he became 
 very devoted, much to the amazement of the straightforward 
 Lincoln to whom an engagement was almost as sacred as a 
 marriage. There were tears, reproaches, misunderstandings. 
 They fell out, made up, and fell out again. Other fundamental 
 differences in opinions began to manifest themselves, until Lin- 
 coln, puzzled, bewildered, pained, began to wonder if — after all 
 — they were compatible. 
 
 Perhaps if he had known more of women he might have mas- 
 tered the situation, but he had known only a few women inti- 
 mately; his mother, step-mother, his sister, and the women of 
 
A TEMPESTUOUS COURTSHIP 217 
 
 New Salem. These were all simple, pioneer women with no 
 subtlety in their make-up. He wondered if it lay in his power 
 to make this brilliant lady happy. He wondered if he really 
 loved her. 
 
 He missed the over-mastering rapture of the love he had felt 
 for Anne Rutledge, not knowing that the ecstasy of first love 
 is never felt but once. Had he been more of an adept in the 
 tender passion he would have known that while such transports 
 may be lacking there may come a second love that is tender, 
 true, and abiding. Not knowing this doubts of his own feelings 
 took possession of him. If he did not love her it would be com- 
 mitting a great wrong to marry her. He became profoundly 
 miserable. 
 
 Meantime, Miss Todd was beginning to entertain the same 
 ideas towards him. Perhaps her friends were right after all, and 
 she and Mr. Lincoln would not be congenial together. So, when 
 Lincoln, after much unhappiness, had come to the conclusion 
 that he did not love her, and with invincible truthfulness told 
 her so, she naturally released him from the engagement. 
 
 The engagement was broken on the first of January, 1841 ; 
 a day that Lincoln ever after referred to as the "fatal first of 
 January." But no sooner was it terminated than he became a 
 prey to the most intense feeling of sadness. He felt the sharp- 
 est anguish at what he regarded as his breach of honor. He felt 
 that he could no longer trust himself in matters of importance 
 since he could not keep his word. He had a tender reverence 
 for women, and the knowledge that he had hurt one of them 
 seemed too heinous a crime to expiate. His melancholy despair, 
 his sense of dishonor were evident to every one. 
 
 As the engagement had been known to all their friends its 
 breaking was the subject of a great deal of gossip. The talk 
 
218 LINCOLN 
 
 was gall and wormwood to Miss Todd's proud spirit, but, like 
 the Kentucky thoroughbred that she was, she flung up her 
 little head, and went on her merry way without a word. But she 
 dismissed Stephen A. Douglas as a suitor. 
 
 Lincoln went about his duties his whole being shrouded in 
 gloom. His partner, Mr. Stuart, was at this time in Congress 
 at Washington, and writing to him, he said : 
 
 "I am now the most miserable man living. If what I feel 
 were equally distributed to the whole human family there would 
 not be one cheerful face on earth. Whether I shall ever be bet- 
 ter I cannot tell. I awfully forebode I shall not. To remain as 
 I am now is impossible. I must die or be better as it appears 
 to me. The matter you speak of on my account you may at- 
 tend to as you say, unless you shall hear of my condition for- 
 bidding it. I say this because I fear I shall be unable to attend 
 to any business here, and a change of scene might help me." 
 
 He was ill for a few days after this, but soon recovered, and 
 resumed his place in the House and the leadership of his party. 
 From this time on he was constant in his attendance and active 
 in the routine of the Legislature until it adjourned. 
 
 In April Stuart and Lincoln dissolved partnership, as Stuart 
 found his time too much taken up with politics to give the law 
 the attention that the profession required. It may be said in 
 passing that later he returned to it, becoming one of the most 
 noteworthy lawyers of the State. Lincoln, therefore, was left 
 free to accept an offer from Judge Stephen T. Logan to enter 
 his office as partner. But his melancholy continued to such an 
 extent that his bosom friend, Joshua Speed, became alarmed. 
 
 "See here, old fellow," he said to Lincoln one day, "you need 
 a change. I've sold the store, and as I told you, I'm going back 
 home for a visit. Why not come with me?" 
 
A TEMPESTUOUS COURTSHIP 219 
 
 Lincoln's face lighted up ; then he shook his head. 
 
 "I should be poor company, Speed," he said. "Your folks 
 would get the hypo just from looking at me." 
 
 "No, they wouldn't. Do come. It will do you good just to 
 meet with my mother." 
 
 So Lincoln accompanied his friend to Farmington, a place 
 about three miles from Louisville, Kentucky, where Speed's 
 people lived. It was a fine farm, in the Blue Grass Country, 
 and here among congenial surroundings Lincoln found the rest 
 his sorely perturbed spirit needed. 
 
 It was a happy and pious family into which his friend 
 brought him. First, there was his friend himself to whom he 
 stood closer than to any other man. The ties between these two 
 were never broken and to the end of his life Lincoln could turn 
 to him, certain to get the truth of any matter, equally sure of 
 sound counsel and unselfish fidelity. There was a brother, 
 James Speed, who practiced law in Louisville, with whom Lin- 
 coln read much during his stay, and to whom he talked of his 
 reading, his studies, and his aspirations. There was a young 
 sister whose gayety did much to lighten his gloom. Above all, 
 there was Speed's mother, a God-fearing woman who took him 
 at once under her own especial care, and by her motherly min- 
 istrations and delicate attentions exerted a marked influence 
 for good uj)on him. She gave him an Oxford Bible which Lin- 
 coln accepted gratefully, and always cherished. The visit 
 brought solace and healing to him, and he gained in strength 
 daily, physically as well as mentally. By fall he was entirely 
 himself again, and he and Speed went back to Springfield. 
 
 With new vigor he applied himself to the law. His associa- 
 tion with Judge Logan, who was considered one of the most 
 eminent practitioners in the State, was of great advantage to 
 
220 LINCOLN 
 
 him. His ambition as a lawyer increased, and he grew con- 
 stantly. Eventually he came to be quite a formidable lawyer. 
 
 There were a number of other activities that engaged his 
 attention also. Lincoln was determined that there should be no 
 return of the "hypo," as he called it, and to keep his mind oc- 
 cupied he filled his time with many enterprises. He served this 
 year as a member of the Whig Central Committee, and bore a 
 prominent part in the movement set on foot to check intemper- 
 ance in the use of spirits. 
 
 He did not run again for the Legislature this year. He de- 
 clined the nomination, hoping that later he might make the 
 race for Congress. 
 
 Meantime Speed returned to Kentucky, and married. While 
 Lincoln regretted that his friend had decided to remain in 
 Kentucky, he rejoiced over his happiness, and his letters showed 
 plainly that he was "still unreconciled to his separation from 
 Miss Todd." Just at this juncture he received an invitation 
 from Mrs. Simeon Francis, wife of the editor of "The Sanga- 
 mon Journal," to a gathering at her house. 
 
 Francis was a great admirer of Abraham Lincoln, and his 
 wife shared his admiration. She was also a friend of Mary 
 Todd, and thought it was a pity that the two should be es- 
 tranged. In her judgment a marriage between a man "as 
 promising in the political world as Lincoln, and a woman as 
 accomplished and brilliant in society as Mary Todd, would 
 certainly add to the attractions of Springfield, and reflect great 
 credit on those who brought it about." Therefore, she had 
 arranged this gathering to bring about a reconciliation. 
 
 During the afternoon she came to Lincoln, saying, 
 
 "Mr. Lincoln, I want to present you to a dear friend of 
 
He Found Himself More and More Attracted by Mary Todd 
 and She Encouraged His Visits 
 
A TEMPESTUOUS COURTSHIP 221 
 
 mine, and I want you to promise that you will be extra nice 
 to her." 
 
 " I don't know exactly what you mean by being 'extra nice/ 
 Mrs. Francis," answered Lincoln laughing; "but I'll do my 
 best." 
 
 What was his amazement when the lady brought him to 
 Miss Todd, and presented him, saying as she left them to- 
 gether : 
 
 "Now do be friends again." 
 
 The surprise was mutual, for neither suspected the oth- 
 er's presence. For a moment they stood in silence, looking at 
 each other. Miss Todd flushed and paled, and her lips quiv- 
 ered. Impulsively Lincoln held out his hand. 
 
 "We can at least be friends, can't we, Mary?" he asked 
 simply. And she nodded acquiescence as she laid her hand in 
 his. 
 
 So the two were friends again, but the new courtship was 
 begun with shyness on both sides. They shrank from the com- 
 ments that might be made should it be known that they had 
 made up, so, during the remainder of the summer they met 
 quietly in Mrs. Francis's parlor. And then there came an oc- 
 currence that brought the affair to a climax. 
 
 Among the young men in Springfield at this time was one 
 James Shields, from Tyrone County, Ireland, who had re- 
 cently been elected Auditor of the State. He was a brave, 
 hotheaded man, very vain, and so extremely sensitive that he 
 was a fair mark for ridicule. In August there was issued a 
 circular by the Governor, Auditor, and Treasurer of the State 
 forbidding the payment of taxes in State bank notes. The notes 
 were nearly worthless, but were practically the only circulating 
 
222 LINCOLN 
 
 medium in the State. The order, consequently, met with oppo- 
 sition from every quarter — the Whigs of course losing no 
 opportunity of making it as odious as possible. After the fash- 
 ion of the times Lincoln wrote a letter to "The Sangamon Jour- 
 nal," purporting to come from the "Lost Townships" in which 
 he described the plight to which the new order had brought this 
 neighborhood, and intimated that the only reason for issuing 
 the order was that the State Officers might have their salaries 
 paid in silver. Shields, the Auditor, was ridiculed unmercifully 
 in the letter for his vanity and gallantry. As he pretended to 
 be a widow Lincoln signed the letter "Aunt Rebecca." 
 
 Shields was furious, and ranted about the streets, threaten- 
 ing death and destruction to the unknown author of the satire. 
 Springfield was in throes of merriment over the affair which 
 was the talk of the town. Now Lincoln had confided to Miss 
 Todd that he had written the letter. It was so successful that 
 she and a friend of hers, Miss Julia Jayne, took it upon them- 
 selves to write another the following week, in which the widow, 
 "Aunt Rebecca," offered to square matters with the gallant 
 Auditor by marrying him. A few days later the young ladies 
 published some verses, signed "Cathleen," celebrating the wed- 
 ding. The humor of the thing vanished with the change of au- 
 thorship, but if the second letter and the verses lacked wit and 
 metre they were not wanting in pungency. "It was a case of 
 feminine mischief on one side and exasperation on the other." 1 
 Shields ought to have laughed the matter off ; instead, he went 
 in a rage to the editor, Mr. Simeon Francis, demanding to 
 know the name of the author of the attacks. In his dilemma the 
 editor appealed to Lincoln, saying that Shields would fight, 
 and that he, the editor, did not want to fight. Naturally Lin- 
 
 i Nicolay & Hay. 
 
A TEMPESTUOUS COURTSHIP 223 
 
 coin did not want either the name of Miss Todd or Miss Jayne 
 to appear in the matter, so he told Mr. Francis to say that 
 he — Abraham Lincoln — was responsible for the whole af- 
 fair. 
 
 Lincoln was just leaving Springfield for a long trip on the 
 circuit when Mr. Francis came to him, and unconcernedly he 
 proceeded on his way. At the time duelling was common. Cus- 
 tom had established it as the mode of setting a man right "when 
 his honor had been assailed before the community." Therefore, 
 Lincoln was not surprised when, a few days later, two of his 
 friends, William Butler and Dr. E. B. Merryman, drove has- 
 tily into Tremont where he was at Court, and told him that 
 Shields with a friend was coming to challenge him. They had 
 come to be of whatever assistance they could in the matter. 
 What was he going to do about it ? 
 
 "I am opposed to duelling," replied Lincoln slowly, "as you 
 both know. I will do anything to avoid taking part in such a 
 thing except that which will degrade me in the estimation of- 
 my friends. But, if such degradation or a fight are the only 
 alternatives, I will fight." 
 
 "We are here to stand by you, Lincoln," said Dr. Merry- 
 man. "We shall see to it that no advantage is taken of either 
 your honor or your life." 
 
 It was not long before Shields and his friend, General White- 
 sides, drove up. Shields opened negotiations with such an of- 
 fensive note that Lincoln was barred from making the explana- 
 tion he had stood ready to give. After much talk the affair 
 ended by Lincoln accepting the challenge which Shields sent 
 him. 
 
 Being the challenged party the terms, by the code, were left 
 to Lincoln, and he "certainly made no grudging use of the 
 
224 LINCOLN 
 
 privilege." * The weapons were to be cavalry broadswords of 
 the largest size, and the combatants were to stand on either 
 side of a board placed on the ground, each to fight in a limit of 
 six feet on his own side of the board. The place of meeting was 
 to be on Bloody Island, neutral territory lying on the Missis- 
 sippi River, between Illinois and Missouri. 
 
 After all these matters were arranged the duelling party 
 started for Alton where they were to take the ferry for the 
 place of meeting. Lincoln and his second, Dr. Merryman, 
 drove together in a buggy, in the bottom of which rattled the 
 weapons to be used. On their way to Alton the two stopped at 
 Whitehall for dinner where an acquaintance of Merryman's 
 lived. He was not long in finding out what was on foot, and as 
 soon as the duellists had started on, he drove to Carrollton, 
 where he knew that Colonel John J. Hardin and several other 
 friends of Lincoln were attending Court, and told them of the 
 trouble. Hardin and one or two others set off immediately for 
 Alton. 
 
 In the meantime, the entire duelling party had arrived at 
 Alton, had taken the ferry, and were now at the place of meet- 
 ing. The principals had taken their places, and were ready to 
 engage when they were interrupted by a shout, and Colonel 
 Hardin and Dr. English leaped from a canoe in which they 
 had paddled across the Mississippi, and implored the combat- 
 ants to listen to them. The upshot of the matter was that 
 Shields was persuaded to withdraw his offensive challenge, and 
 then Lincoln gave the explanation he had been ready to make 
 from the beginning. He acknowledged that he had written the 
 one letter, saying that it had been done solely for political ef- 
 fect, and without any intention of injuring Mr. Shields per- 
 
 i Nicolay & Hay. 
 
A TEMPESTUOUS COURTSHIP 225 
 
 sonally. So matters were adjusted "with honor" to all con- 
 cerned. 
 
 Miss Todd was so filled with contrition for her part in 
 bringing Lincoln into such a plight that she tried to make 
 amends in every way she could ; but Lincoln, now that the mat- 
 ter had ended comically, treated the whole matter mirthfully. 
 Much to his surprise he had found himself entirely willing to 
 fight for the young lady. Indeed, he knew at last that nothing 
 would delight him more than to fight her battles always. He 
 told her so. They decided to be married and that very soon. 
 
 A few weeks later, on the morning of November Fourth, 
 Lincoln went to the room of his friend, James H. Matheney, 
 before he was out of bed, and told him he was to be married 
 that evening, and that he wished him to attend. 
 
 Later in the day, as he was attending to the license and the 
 wedding ring, in which he had the jeweller to engrave, "Love 
 is eternal," he encountered Ninian W. Edwards, Miss Todd's 
 brother-in-law. He told him that he and Mary were to be mar- 
 ried that evening in the Episcopalian Church. 
 
 "If you and Mary wish to be married this evening, that is 
 all right, Lincoln," said Mr. Edwards, gravely. "But Mary is 
 my ward, and the wedding must be at my house." 
 
 And so, on Friday evening, November Fourth, 1842, in the 
 midst of a small circle of friends, with the elements doing their 
 utmost in the way of rain, Abraham Lincoln and Mary Todd 
 were married by the Reverend Charles Dresser, Rector of the 
 Episcopalian Church, at the home of Ninian W. Edwards. 
 
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 
 
 THE RISING POLITICIAN 
 
 Lincoln took his wife to live at the Globe Tavern, a very 
 well kept inn run by Widow Beck. Room and board for the 
 two of them cost him four dollars a week, a style of living 
 suited to his means. 
 
 Mrs. Lincoln proved to be a devoted wife. She was very 
 proud of her tall, ungainly husband, and had great faith in 
 his future. She watched his every move with keenest interest, 
 and as he struggled for advancement in his profession and poli- 
 tics she shared in his sacrifices without a murmur. If at times, 
 the high-strung lady lost patience when he sprawled on the 
 floor with a pillow under his head and a book in his hand, or 
 went to the door to admit lady callers in his shirt sleeves, it 
 was because she wanted others to see him as she knew him — 
 the embodiment of noble manhood, and she knew the value of 
 external appearance to produce such an impression. Nothing 
 irked her more than to have him called homely. 
 
 "If people were only aware of it," she would say, "Mr. Lin- 
 coln's heart is as big as his arms are long." 
 
 She took him sharply to task about his clothing to which 
 Lincoln submitted good-naturedly. He knew that he was lack- 
 
 226 
 
THE RISING POLITICIAN 227 
 
 ing in this respect, and was perfectly willing to be "reformed" 
 in this particular. But, despite all his wife's efforts, though 
 she wrought a change for the better in his personal appearance, 
 the fact remained that Abraham Lincoln always appeared a 
 carelessly dressed man. But he was scrupulously clean, and his 
 linen was immaculate. All in all, they got along together very 
 well, and Lincoln developed in mind and character. 
 
 He found to his surprise and pleasure that there was a new 
 stimulus to his love for politics; for his wife encouraged his 
 ambition in every way that she could. He wanted to go to 
 Congress, and frankly announced his desire. Lincoln believed 
 that if a man wished an office, and was fitted for it, there was 
 no reason why he should not try to get it. And he never felt 
 rancor if any of his friends desired the same position that he 
 did. Therefore, in the spring of 1843, he prepared to bring 
 himself before the people as a candidate for Congress. He 
 wrote to a friend at this time: 
 
 "If you should hear any one say that Lincoln don't l want to 
 go to Congress, I wish you, as a personal friend of mine, would 
 tell him you have reason to believe that he is mistaken. The 
 truth is I would like to go very much. Still, circumstances may 
 happen which may prevent my being a candidate." 
 
 Circumstances did prevent. A mass meeting of the Whigs of 
 the district was held in Springfield on the 1st of March, 1843, 
 for the purpose of organizing the party for the elections of the 
 year. There were still some Whigs who were opposed to the 
 convention system, and a committee, of which Lincoln was a 
 member, was appointed to prepare an "Address to the People 
 
 i I used "don't" instead of "doesn't" because Lincoln did. While exact in his 
 language in speeches Lincoln was not so particular in his everyday idiom, and in 
 his friendly letters. As a matter of fact, I have stuck closely to Lincoln's own words 
 and phrases throughout the book, wherever it was possible to do so. 
 
228 LINCOLN 
 
 of Illinois," defending the Convention System. This was so 
 convincing in its arguments showing that in unity only there 
 was strength, that the Whigs forthwith adopted the system 
 without dissension. In accordance with the new policy the 
 Whigs of the various counties in the Congressional District 
 met and chose delegates. To Lincoln's keen disappointment the 
 Sangamon County meeting named Edward D. Baker as its 
 choice for Congressman. He was very popular, and had been 
 a lifelong resident of the county, so his claims antedated those 
 of Lincoln. Moreover, Lincoln was appointed a delegate to 
 the District Convention which meant that he must work to get 
 Baker the nomination. Great as was his disappointment the 
 matter struck Lincoln humorously. 
 
 "In getting the nomination for Baker," he wrote to Speed, 
 "I shall be fixed like a fellow who is made groomsman to a 
 man who has cut him out, and is marrying his own dear gal." 
 
 But he stood by Baker nevertheless, and worked as hard for 
 him to get the nomination as he would have done for himself. 
 There were certain of his constituents, however, who were not 
 so complacent, and who urged him to try for the nomination 
 in spite of his instructions as a delegate. This was particularly 
 the case with his old friends of New Salem and vicinity, but 
 Lincoln, while pleased with this demonstration of their friend- 
 ship for him, declined to consider any move that would work 
 against Baker. "I feel myself bound not to hinder him in any 
 way from getting the nomination; I should despise myself 
 were I to attempt it," he told them. 
 
 It was soon evident, however, to both Baker and Lincoln 
 that John J. Hardin of Jacksonville was probably the strong- 
 est candidate in the District. Therefore, when the Convention 
 
THE RISING POLITICIAN 229 
 
 met at Pekin, in May, 1843, Baker declined the candidacy, 
 and Hardin was elected by acclamation. 
 
 As Lincoln had supported Baker so now he supported 
 Hardin. He was a loyal .party man, believing in the necessity 
 of unity and concord that his party might make its entire 
 strength felt. When at last the election was over, and Hardin 
 elected, Lincoln busied himself with the law and local politics. 
 He had an added incentive to work now, for a baby boy had 
 come to the Lincoln household. A boy whom they named Rob- 
 ert Todd Lincoln, after Mrs. Lincoln's father. Lincoln had 
 always been fond of children, and the deeps of tenderness in 
 his nature were stirred by the bliss that this little child brought. 
 He delighted to watch the growth of his small son, and he 
 resolved that this boy should have the advantages of education 
 which he himself had missed. 
 
 One of the secrets of his strong hold on the affections of his 
 friends was his sympathy for them in their disappointments 
 and misfortunes. So, as Baker had been most grievously dis- 
 appointed in his expectations of getting the nomination for 
 Congress, Lincoln told him he would do his utmost to help him 
 get it the next year; a promise that he fulfilled. He had that 
 consideration for others that is part of a big nature, and his 
 friends were held as part of himself. Nor was it possible for 
 him to regard his clients simply in the light of business. An 
 unfortunate man was an object of his sympathy, no matter 
 what his business relation to him might be. A Mr. Cogdal met 
 with financial disaster, and employed Lincoln as his lawyer 
 to settle up his business. At the close of the matter he gave to 
 Lincoln a note to cover the fees. Soon thereafter the man lost 
 his hand by the accidental discharge of powder. Lincoln met 
 
230 LINCOLN 
 
 him some time after the accident, on the steps of the State 
 House. 
 
 "How do you do, Mr. Cogdal?" he said in greeting. "How 
 are you getting along?" 
 
 "Badly enough," answered Mr. Cogdal. "I am both broken 
 up in business, and crippled. By the way, I have been thinking 
 about that note of yours." 
 
 "Well, you need not think about it any more," said Lincoln 
 taking the note out of his pocket, and handing it to him. 
 
 "Oh, but—" protested Mr. Cogdal. "I did not intend— I only 
 meant that you would have to wait a little. I — " 
 
 "Cogdal, I wouldn't take that money if you had it," spoke 
 Lincoln earnestly. "Why, I've been in tight boats myself, and 
 I always took a helping hand when it was held out to me. I 
 would not feel right about taking money from you." And he 
 hurried away. 
 
 Yet at the time he was writing to Speed that he could not 
 afford to bring his wife to Kentucky for a visit that summer 
 because of his poverty. Still, his affairs were improving. His 
 debts were gradually lessening, he was keeping his expenses 
 in hand, and finances were wearing a brighter face than they 
 had ever done. He was becoming known as one of the best 
 lawyers who rode the circuit. He studied his cases with great 
 thoroughness, and was so uniformly successful that the people 
 regarded him as having no equal. His practice was growing. 
 
 "Riding the circuit was a peculiar business, and tended to 
 develop peculiar traits of character." Each District had its 
 presiding judge whom the lawyers followed from county to 
 county as he held court at each county-seat. For the most part 
 the lawyers travelled horseback, with a change of raiment, a 
 few law books, and other articles indispensable to the travel- 
 
THE RISING POLITICIAN 231 
 
 ler in his saddle-bags. Some few attorneys, quite often the 
 judge, rode in gigs. Sometimes the cavalcade stopped at cabins 
 by the way to eat, or sleep, or feed the horses ; more often the 
 evenings were spent at the country taverns. The life was rich 
 with incidents, and Lincoln loved it. It was on these jaunts that 
 he picked up many of the stories that in after years made him 
 famous as an impromptu story-teller. 
 
 Once, while riding the circuit, Lincoln was missed from the 
 party, having loitered apparently near a thicket of wild plum- 
 trees where the company had stopped to water their horses. 
 
 "Where's Lincoln?" was asked from one to another. "Do you 
 know where Lincoln is?" they queried of one of their number 
 who rode up at this moment. 
 
 "Lincoln? Well, when I saw him last, he had caught two 
 young birds that the wind had blown out of their nest, and 
 was hunting for the nest to put them back." 
 
 "We might as well start on," said another. "If Lincoln has 
 started hunting that nest he'll keep on until he finds it, if it 
 takes him all day. I never knew a man to be so tender-hearted 
 towards animals." 
 
 "Did you ever hear of the pig he rescued?" cried another as 
 the cavalcade started slowly on. "No? Well, it was several years 
 ago when Lincoln first began to ride the circuit. He was riding 
 by himself on this occasion, and all at once he saw a pig strug- 
 gling in a deep slough. The slough was so deep, and the pig so 
 weak from the efforts he had made to get out that Lincoln saw 
 that the animal could not help himself. He had on a new suit 
 of clothes, and it was pretty deep mud that the pig was in, so 
 that if he tried to free the animal he was almost certain to 
 get his new clothes muddy. So he rode on ; but he couldn't rid 
 his mind of the picture of the pig struggling in the mire. After 
 
232 LINCOLN 
 
 riding two miles he stopped, turned, and deliberately rode back 
 to the place. Tying his horse, he went to work to build of old 
 rails a passage to the bottom of the hole. When it was finished 
 he went down, seized the pig, and dragged him out, getting 
 nicely bespattered the while. Then he washed his hands in the 
 nearest brook, wiped them on the grass, and rode along. 
 
 "When he reached court, and we rallied him on his muddy 
 clothes, he told us about it. When we laughed at him for exhib- 
 iting so much sympathy for a dumb brute, he said that it was 
 not benevolence on his part, but pure selfishness. That he did it 
 to 'take a pain out of his own mind.' " 
 
 The lawyers laughed at this new view of the nature of sym- 
 pathy, and while they were still chuckling Lincoln himself 
 rode up. 
 
 "Did you find the nest, Lincoln?" was his greeting. 
 
 "Yes," Lincoln told them briefly. Then, as they rallied him 
 on his tender-heartedness he added: "I could not have slept 
 unless I had restored those little birds to their mother." 
 
 The months passed away, and brought Lincoln to the great 
 political contest of 1844. In May of that year, at the District 
 Convention, he was made a Presidential Elector, an honorable 
 and laborious post. As it had been determined to elect the 
 candidates for Congress a year before vacancies were to oc- 
 cur Baker became the party's nominee for Congress. 
 
 Lincoln flung himself into the campaign with all his heart, 
 for the candidate for President was his beloved and idolized 
 leader, Henry Clay. When he was a young fellow, working at 
 Posey's Landing on the Ohio, he had read the Life of Clay, 
 and he had been a student of his public life ever since. The 
 principles of the great Whig leader he had made his own, and 
 it was with enthusiasm that he travelled to the remotest parts 
 
THE RISING POLITICIAN 233 
 
 of the State to talk to the people in their dialect, with their own 
 habits of thought and feeling in favor of the Whig candidate. 
 
 The campaigning was simple and informal — a Democrat and 
 a Whig travelling together, and discussing matters before 
 gatherings of men of the different neighborhoods in the most 
 friendly manner. Often one tried to outstrip the other by mak- 
 ing himself agreeable to the women of the household ; for many 
 votes were still cast in Illinois out of personal liking. 
 
 At one time, William L. D. Ewing, a Democrat, accompa- 
 nied Lincoln on a campaign. Both men were eager to win 
 the favor of one of their hostesses, whose husband was an im- 
 portant man in the neighborhood. Neither had made much 
 progress during the afternoon, so, at milking- time, as the woman 
 took her pail and started for the yard, Mr. Ewing sprang to 
 her side and took the pail from her hands. 
 
 "Let me do the milking, madam," he said insistently. "It 
 will give me great pleasure." 
 
 The hostess demurred, but Mr. Ewing persisted, and, with 
 a glance of triumph at Lincoln, sat down by the cow and went 
 to milking, talking loudly to the lady all the while. Not re- 
 ceiving any answer he looked around, only to see her and Lin- 
 coln leaning comfortably over the bars, engaged in an animated 
 discussion. Much chagrined, for he believed that he had exe- 
 cuted a masterly stroke, Mr. Ewing finished his task. His 
 hostess received the foaming pail with many thanks. 
 
 "I appreciate it the more because it gave me a chance to 
 have such a pleasant talk with Mr. Lincoln," she added. 
 
 Ewing's glance was eloquent as he met Lincoln's twinkling 
 eyes. 
 
 "What would you have done, Lincoln, if I hadn't milked?" 
 he asked as they passed on their way. 
 
234 LINCOLN 
 
 "I would have done the milking myself," chuckled Lincoln. 
 
 In the latter end of the canvass Lincoln was asked to speak 
 in Indiana, the invitation being given by prominent Whigs 
 who had heard him speak in Illinois. He accepted, being much 
 moved by the prospect of speaking in his former home. He 
 spoke at Bruceville, at Rockport, his old county-seat, and near 
 Gentryville, his old home. Many of his one-time friends and 
 neighbors came to hear him, proud and delighted that the boy 
 of whom they had prophesied great things should justify their 
 predictions. He was a prominent man, they told each other, and 
 he had grown up among them. They crowded about him, 
 pleased that he remembered them, pleased too at the cordiality 
 with which he greeted them, and touched by his emotion at be- 
 ing with them once more. 
 
 In those days an Indiana audience measured the importance 
 of a speaker by the number of books and pamphlets he brought 
 with him. Lincoln came without a printed page, and it bothered 
 Josiah Crawford who had come to hear him speak. 
 
 "Where's your books, Abe?" he asked. 
 
 "I haven't any, Uncle Josiah," answered Lincoln laughing. 
 "Sticking out my lip is all that I need." * 
 
 The answer tickled Mr. Crawford who, it will be remem- 
 bered, used to twit Lincoln when he was working for him with 
 studying with his lip. He told the story often afterwards. 
 
 After the speaking was over Mr. Crawford asked Lincoln 
 to go home with him, an invitation he accepted eagerly, pleased 
 with the opportunity to talk over old times with him. To return 
 after a long absence of years to one's childhood home brings 
 a sort of Rip Van Winklish feeling to one. To observe the 
 changes which have taken place in familiar tilings brings one to 
 
 i This incident given by Miss Tarbell in "Footsteps of the Lincolns." 
 
THE RISING POLITICIAN 235 
 
 a realization of the passage of Time as nothing else does. So 
 Lincoln was deeply moved as he stood again by the lonely 
 grave in the forest where rested the form of that mother whom 
 he had loved so well. Vivid memories of his boyhood were 
 awakened. To visit all the old familiar spots was saddening 
 yet it was pleasurable too, and he found his whole being 
 stirred to the utmost by his trip. 
 
 The annexation of Texas was one of the most hotly discussed 
 questions of the campaign of 1844. The Whigs opposed the 
 annexation, but it was to their cost. For Texas, which had 
 achieved its independence of Mexico, was filled with Ameri- 
 cans, and its annexation was inevitable. 
 
 In consequence of this opposition the "gallant Harry of 
 the West" went down to defeat. Probably no defeat of a great 
 party ever brought to its members so much of personal sor- 
 row as did the defeat of Henry Clay by James K. Polk of Ten- 
 nessee. Clay was the idol of his party, and it was completely 
 demoralized by his overthrow. To Lincoln his defeat was a keen 
 and personal grief. 
 
CHAPTER NINETEEN 
 
 THE HONORABLE ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 Realizing that a tavern was no place for a young child Lin- 
 coln and his wife decided to buy a home for themselves. He 
 was still in debt, but was gradually emerging therefrom; so he 
 bought a house and lot on the corner of Eighth and Jackson 
 Streets, a few blocks from the public square. It was a plain, 
 two-story house, with a barn, a small garden spot, and a door- 
 yard. A retaining wall, surmounted by a picket fence, lifted 
 it above the street. It was painted white with green blinds, and 
 was set in the midst of great shade trees, — a simple and unpre- 
 tentious home, like its neighbors. 
 
 When Lincoln was not away, making speeches or riding the 
 circuit, he milked the cow, took care of the horse, and attended 
 to the garden. For a number of years, until they were out of 
 debt, they were unable to keep a maid, and Mrs. Lincoln did 
 her own work. She liked everything orderly, and the house was 
 always spick-and-span. "Her table became famed for the ex- 
 cellence of many rare Kentucky dishes, and for the venison, 
 wild turkeys, and other game then so abundant." So well did 
 she manage that Lincoln trusted her implicitly with all house- 
 hold matters. She kept up social connections that would be of 
 
 236 
 
THE HONORABLE ABRAHAM LINCOLN 237 
 
 benefit to him politically, and was "quick to detect those who 
 had designs upon and sought to use them. She was an excellent 
 judge of human nature, and a better reader of men's motives 
 than her husband." 1 Though the home was simple and modest 
 it soon became a centre of attraction in the little capital, be- 
 cause of the cordial welcome given to guests by the hostess, and 
 Lincoln's wit, humor, anecdotes, and conversation. 
 
 In the meantime, as Judge Logan wished to take his son 
 David into the office with him, he and Lincoln dissolved part- 
 nership, and Lincoln opened an office of his own. A partner 
 was indispensable to a lawyer at the time, so that one could 
 remain in the office while the other rode the circuit. As soon, 
 therefore, as Lincoln's office was well under way he went to 
 the quarters of William H. Herndon, and invited him to be- 
 come his partner. 
 
 William H. Herndon was nine years younger than Lincoln. 
 They had become acquainted in Joshua Speed's store where 
 young Herndon had been a clerk. He was also one of the 
 young men who had roomed with Speed and Lincoln. He was 
 well-educated, had studied law after his experience in clerking, 
 and Lincoln understood and liked him. Overwhelmed by the 
 invitation, for the younger man had but little practice and 
 Lincoln's was extensive, Herndon refused the offer. 
 
 "I haven't much experience, Mr. Lincoln," he said. "I'm 
 afraid that I wouldn't be much of a credit to you." 
 
 "Billy," returned Lincoln earnestly, "I can trust you, if you 
 can trust me." 
 
 Gratefully the young man accepted the generous offer ; and 
 thus was formed a partnership that was never dissolved. The 
 office of Lincoln and Herndon was in a brick building on the 
 
 i Herndon's Life of Lincoln. 
 
238 LINCOLN 
 
 public square, opposite the State House. One went up a flight 
 of stairs and then passed along a hallway to the rear office, 
 which was a medium sized room. There was one long table in 
 the centre of the room, and a shorter one running in the op- 
 posite direction, forming a T, and both were covered with green 
 baize. There were two windows which looked into the back 
 yard. In one corner was an old-fashioned secretary with pigeon- 
 holes and a drawer, and here the partners kept their law papers. 
 There was also a book-case containing about two hundred vol- 
 umes of law as well as miscellaneous books. 
 
 The firm kept no books. They divided their fees without tak- 
 ing any receipts or making entries in books. When Lincoln 
 went out on the circuit, his partner was usually at home looking 
 after things. Sometimes he took up and disposed of cases that 
 were never entered at the office. In receiving the fees for such 
 cases he divided the money into halves, wrapped his partner's 
 share in a piece of paper, wrote his name upon it, and the case 
 in which it was received, placing it in a separate compartment 
 of his pocketbook where it remained until he could turn it over. 
 There was never any misunderstanding or question of money 
 injustice between Lincoln and his partner. 
 
 March 10, 1846, Lincoln's heart was gladdened by the birth 
 of another boy. They called him Edward Baker. 
 
 "We have another boy," he wrote a few weeks later to his 
 friend Speed. "He is very much such a child as Bob was at his 
 age, rather of a longer order. Bob is 'short and low,' and I ex- 
 pect always will be. He talks very plainly — almost as plainly 
 as anybody. He is quite smart enough. I sometimes fear he is 
 one of the rare-ripe sort that are smarter at about five years 
 than ever after. He has a great deal of that sort of mischief that 
 is the offspring of such animal spirits. 
 
THE HONORABLE ABRAHAM LINCOLN 239 
 
 "Since I began this letter a messenger came to tell me Bob 
 was lost ; but by the time I had reached the house his mother had 
 found him, and had whipped him, and by now, very likely, he 
 is run away again." 
 
 After Baker's election in 1844, it was generally taken as 
 a matter of course in the District that Lincoln was to be the 
 next candidate of the Whig party for Congress. There was a 
 sort of tacit understanding among the Whigs that whoever 
 should, at each election gain the honor of representing the 
 District, should be satisfied with one term, and not be a can- 
 didate for re-election. And this because there were so many can- 
 didates, and but one Whig District in the State. The retiring 
 member, however, was not always convinced of the propriety 
 of this arrangement. 
 
 The Convention was held at Petersburg on the 1st of May, 
 1846, and Lincoln was nominated unanimously. The Spring- 
 field "Journal," said, in its announcement of the fact: "This 
 nomination was of course anticipated, there being no other can- 
 didate in the field. Mr. Lincoln, as we all know, is a good 
 Whig, a good man, an able speaker, and richly deserves, as he 
 enjoys the confidence of the Whigs of this District and of the 
 State." 
 
 The Democratic Convention was held almost immediately 
 afterwards. Lincoln was out of town when the news of the re- 
 sults were made known, and he did not know until his return 
 who had been chosen as his opponent. Herndon turned a grave 
 face towards him as he entered the office. 
 
 "Have you heard who is to be your Democratic rival, Mr. 
 Lincoln?" he asked. 
 
 "No, Billy; and I've been anxious to know. Who is 
 he?" 
 
240 LINCOLN 
 
 "Peter Cartwright, the old Methodist Preacher," answered 
 his partner. 
 
 Lincoln gave a long whistle. 
 
 "Well, Billy, it's not going to be any circus to defeat him; 
 is it? He is the best known man in the District, or the State 
 for that matter. I am afraid that when he gets through with 
 this canvass there won't be enough left of me to make a little 
 yellow dog. You know there was a fellow once who advertised 
 that he had made a discovery by which he could make a new 
 man out of an old one and have enough of the stuff left to 
 make a little yellow dog. My chances for even the dog are 
 slim." 
 
 Herndon laughed, then said earnestly: 
 
 "We've all got to work, Mr. Lincoln. We can't let any grass 
 grow under our feet. Mr. Cartwright will be hard to beat." 
 
 Other of Lincoln's friends felt the same way, and went en- 
 ergetically into the canvass. Peter Cartwright, the famous 
 backwoods preacher, was now about sixty years of age, and 
 in the height of his popularity. He had already been in the 
 Legislature twice, and had a personal following which, begin- 
 ning with his children and grandchildren and extending 
 through every part of the district made him an adversary to be 
 respected. 
 
 Joshua Speed came up from Kentucky to do what he could 
 to help his friend, and the Whigs contributed a purse of tw;> 
 hundred dollars to defray Lincoln's personal expenses during 
 the campaign. The election was held in August, and Lincoln 
 was elected by a large majority. Indeed, it was the largest 
 vote ever given to a candidate in the District, his majority over 
 his opponent being 1511. 
 
 After the election was over Lincoln handed Speed $199.25 
 
THE HONORABLE ABRAHAM LINCOLN 241 
 
 of the two hundred dollars which had been given him, request- 
 ing that he would return it to the subscribers. Speed demurred. 
 
 "See here, old fellow," he said; "that was for your personal 
 expenses." 
 
 "I did not need the money, Speed. I made the canvass on 
 my own horse; my entertainment, being at the homes of my 
 friends, cost me nothing; and my only outlay was seventy-five 
 cents for a barrel of cider, which some farm hands insisted that 
 I treat them to." 
 
 "But we wanted you to spend it," protested Speed. 
 
 "I didn't need it," said Lincoln again, "and I would rather 
 you would return it to those who subscribed it, although I am 
 grateful to our friends for having done it. I would have used it 
 gladly had I needed it." 
 
 "You don't seem particularly elated over the election, after 
 all, Lincoln," commented his friend. 
 
 "It doesn't please me as much as I expected," said Lincoln. 
 
 "It will later," comforted Speed. "You are tired now from 
 the campaign, and naturally feel that the game is not worth 
 the candle. When you are rested you will look at it in a dif- 
 ferent light. Disillusion always comes with success." 
 
 A little more than a year was to elapse 'before Lincoln's de- 
 parture for Washington to enter upon his duties as a member 
 of Congress, and before the time expired the Mexican War 
 had begun. In admitting Texas, Congress had opened the way 
 to serious trouble, for Mexico protested against the admission. 
 This protest was soon followed by a more critical exigency, an 
 active boundary dispute. Texas claimed the Rio Grande River 
 as her western boundary; Mexico held that the Nueces River 
 was the true boundary. Between these two streams lay a broad 
 tract of land claimed by both nations, and which both sought to 
 
242 LINCOLN 
 
 occupy. War arose in consequence of this ownership dispute. 
 
 The efforts to avoid it had not been active. Both countries 
 being ripe for war, both had taken steps to bring it on. Abra- 
 ham Lincoln, in common with other Whigs, opposed the Dec- 
 laration of War, but Congress and the Administration favored 
 it, and called for "fifty thousand volunteers." Though the 
 Whigs opposed the war, when the call for volunteers came, 
 they responded with alacrity. In Illinois some of the bravest 
 men and best legal talent marched with the regiments. Lincoln 
 saw many of his friends go — H'ardin, Baker, Bissell, and 
 Shields, his one time fellow duellist, and others; some of them 
 never came back. Soon the glamour of the victories achieved by 
 American arms blinded the people to the moral aspects of the 
 question, and everything was lost sight of but the issues of the 
 war and the manner of its prosecution. But Lincoln held to 
 his belief that the war was wrongfully 'begun as was evidenced 
 later in Congress. 
 
 In November, 1847, with his wife and the two children, he 
 started for Washington travelling east by stage and steam- 
 boat across the Alleghanies to the city on the Potomac. As a 
 concession to his wife's ideas of what was proper for him in 
 dress, Lincoln wore a neat black cloth suit, and a tall silk hat 
 known as a stovepipe. It was a style of apparel he ever after- 
 wards affected. He found the hat very convenient as a reposi- 
 tory for papers. 
 
 Washington, at this time, was a great straggling village, 
 with unpaved streets which gave forth clouds of dust in sum- 
 mer and were deep in mud in winter. There were a number of 
 public buildings; but, for the most part, though a beautiful 
 city had been planned, it was as yet a city of promise rather 
 than one of fulfillment. But Lincoln was stirred to the depths 
 
THE HONORABLE ABRAHAM LINCOLN 243 
 
 of his being by the knowledge that at last he stood in the Seat 
 of Government. 
 
 As hotel accommodations were limited Lincoln took his fam- 
 ily to live at Mrs. Sprigg's Club, in "Duff Green's Row," 1 on 
 Capitol Hill. Several other members of Congress also boarded 
 with Mrs. Sprigg, and there were a number of "messes," as 
 the boarding-clubs for Congressmen were called, scattered 
 about the neighborhood. Lincoln soon won his way among 
 them, his simple, sincere friendliness and his quaint humor se- 
 curing him recognition from the first. 
 
 The Congress convened on the 6th of December, and at 
 once Lincoln felt entirely at home. The fact that he was the 
 only Whig member from the State of Illinois gave him con- 
 siderable prominence from the start. The Congress held many 
 eminent men at this time. In the Senate were Daniel Webster, 
 Lewis Cass, John A. Dix, Thomas H. Benton, John C. Cal- 
 houn, Jefferson Davis, Stephen A. Douglas, and other well- 
 known statesmen. It is noteworthy that Stephen A. Douglas 
 took his seat as United States Senator for the first time at 
 this session. It seemed destined that the "tallest man in the 
 House, and the shortest man in the Senate" should never lose 
 sight of each other. In the House of Representatives were ex- 
 President John Quincy Adams, Caleb B. Smith, John G. Pal- 
 frey, Robert C. Winthrop, Andrew Johnson, Alexander H. 
 Stephens, and others who were to become famous in the 
 "stormy times then making ready in the distance." Among this 
 illustrious company Lincoln soon became recognized as a man 
 of marked ability. 
 
 As has been said the Whigs abhorred the war, but Lincoln 
 had been cautioned by his friends to say nothing in opposition 
 
 i Now occupied by the Congressional Library. 
 
244 LINCOLN 
 
 to it. He had fully intended not to do so, but the Administration 
 wished to secure from Congress not only necessary supplies 
 and additional men to carry on the war, but also a resolution 
 declaring that the war was just and right. Lincoln voted for the 
 supplies and men ; for money to pay the soldiers, and to reward 
 their bravery in action; but, with others of his party in Con- 
 gress, both Northern and Southern Whigs, refused his sanc- 
 tion to the resolution that the war was just and right; voting 
 on the contrary, a resolution that the war had been "unneces- 
 sarily and unconstitutionally" begun. On December 22nd, he 
 made his debut in the House by a Series of Resolutions, after- 
 wards called the "Spot Resolutions," which were meant to show 
 that the "Spot" where the war began was not in United States 
 Territory. In fact, that the Administration had taken pains to 
 bring on the war. In January he followed up these resolutions 
 with a speech in support of his position. 
 
 His people back home criticised him mercilessly for these 
 resolutions, and for the stand he had taken regarding the war. 
 He found himself compelled to justify his position with even 
 his oldest friends; a hard situation for a politician. 
 
 Surely there was all the more evidence of the patriotism of 
 a man who, doubting the expediency and even the entire justice 
 of the war, nevertheless supported it, because it was the war of 
 his country. The resolutions in the Session made it impossible 
 for him to do otherwise than declare himself. 
 
 In June, 1848, the National Whig Convention met at Phila- 
 delphia to nominate a candidate for the Presidency, and Lin- 
 coln was one of the delegates. It was a campaign of contra- 
 dictions. The Whigs, while they opposed the war, yet chose 
 General Zachary Taylor as their nominee — not because of his 
 
THE HONORABLE ABRAHAM LINCOLN 245 
 
 fitness for the office, but because he had won fame at Buena 
 Vista and other battlefields, and also because he had not been 
 in favor of carrying the war forward to the banks of the Rio 
 Grande. The war was ended now, but all parties were trying 
 to take advantage of the military prestige gained by its partici- 
 pants. Lincoln returned to Washington full of enthusiasm for 
 his candidate. 
 
 "In m} T opinion we shall have a most overwhelming, a glori- 
 ous triumph," he wrote home to a friend. "One unmistakable 
 sign is that all the odds and ends are with us. Barnburners, Na- 
 tive Americans, Tyler men, disappointed office-seekers, Loco- 
 focos, and the Lord knows what. This is important, if in noth- 
 ing else, in showing which way the wind blows." 
 
 It also showed how the parties were beginning to break up, 
 a sign which Lincoln was too astute a politician not to see. Cam- 
 paigning had already begun on the floor of Congress, and the 
 members were daily making speeches for the various candi- 
 dates. A most reprehensible custom, but one then in vogue. 
 On July 27th Lincoln made a speech concerning the points at 
 issue between the two parties, and the merits of the respective 
 candidates, General Cass having received the nomination of the 
 Democratic party. As an electioneering speech it could not 
 have been improved, and was reported the country over by the 
 Whig Press. The last half hour it kept the House in an uproar 
 of merriment, and the Baltimore "American," giving a synop- 
 sis of it, called it "the crack-speech of the day." 
 
 In consequence of this speech, when Congress adjourned in 
 August, the National Whig Committee asked Lincoln to go 
 into Massachusetts to deliver some speeches. Lincoln demurred 
 at first, saying, 
 
246 LINCOLN 
 
 "Why, my hair is full of hayseed, and Massachusetts is the 
 most cultured State in the Union. Its people will not care 
 to hear me." 
 
 In the end, however, he was prevailed on to go, and went 
 early in September. The first speech was to be delivered at 
 Worcester where the Whig State Convention met to nominate 
 a candidate for Governor, and the most eminent Whigs of Mas- 
 sachusetts were present. 
 
 At a mass-meeting of delegates and others, held in Mechan- 
 ics' Hall — an immense building — Lincoln was announced to 
 speak. No one was there who had ever heard him on the stump, 
 and in fact knew anything about him. When he was announced, 
 his tall, angular, bent form, his manifest awkwardness and low 
 tone of voice, promised nothing interesting. But he soon 
 warmed to his work. He rolled back the sleeves of his coat, then 
 the cuffs of his shirt. Next he loosened his necktie, and pres- 
 ently took it off altogether. All this time he was gaining upon 
 his audience. He soon had it by a spell. The people were de- 
 lighted. He began to bubble out with humor. His style and 
 manner were novelties in the East. He repeated anecdotes, told 
 stories admirable in humor and in point, interspersed with true 
 eloquence, which constantly brought down the house, and when- 
 ever he attempted to stop, the shouts of "Go on! Go on!" were 
 deafening. 1 
 
 At the close of this masterly and convincing speech, the audi- 
 ence gave three cheers for Illinois, and three more for the 
 eloquent Whig member from that State. After this speech 
 Lincoln spoke at Dorchester, Dedham, Roxbury, and Chelsea ; 
 and on September 22nd in Tremont Temple, Boston, follow- 
 
 i Ex-Governor Gardiner in a Brief History of the Whig Convention of 1848, 
 Herndon. 
 
THE HONORABLE ABRAHAM LINCOLN 247 
 
 ing a splendid oration by Governor William H. Seward. He 
 made a marked impression on all his audiences, and such was 
 his success that invitations came from all over New England 
 asking him to speak. "The Atlas," to which many of these re- 
 quests were sent, was finally obliged to print with regret the 
 news of his departure for his home in Illinois. 
 
 But Lincoln had gained something by this visit to Massa- 
 chusetts : he had glimpsed the gulf that lay between the attitude 
 of the North towards slavery, and that of the South towards 
 the institution. His own attitude at this time was that it was 
 legally right, morally wrong, and he was opposed to its exten- 
 sion. But after listening to Governor Seward's speech in Tre- 
 mont Temple he felt the seriousness of the situation more 
 deeply : and that night, as the two men sat talking at the hotel, 
 he said gravely to the great anti-slavery advocate : 
 
 "Governor Seward, I have been thinking about what you 
 said in your speech. I reckon you are right. We have got to 
 deal with this slavery question, and got to give more attention 
 to it hereafter than we have been doing." 
 
CHAPTER TWENTY 
 
 IN PRIVATE LIFE 
 
 Lincoln returned to Springfield by way of Buffalo and 
 Niagara Falls. Years before when he had seen the Ohio River 
 for the first time he had exclaimed, "Oh, pa, where does all that 
 water come from?" And now, thirty-two years afterward, the 
 thing that struck him most forcibly was the volume of water, 
 and he vented his wonder in the query: "Where in the world 
 does all that water come from?" 
 
 On reaching Springfield he devoted his time to furthering 
 the cause of General Taylor, and he had the satisfaction of 
 seeing the triumph of the Whigs in his election to the Presi- 
 dency. There were but a few weeks between the close of the 
 Presidential Campaign and the commencement of the second 
 session of the Thirtieth Congress, and Lincoln gave these to 
 arranging his business and home affairs. His younger boy, 
 Edward Baker, was not very well, and Mrs. Lincoln decided 
 to remain at home in Springfield until he was better; so 
 Lincoln departed for Washington without his family in the 
 latter part of November. 
 
 The second session of this Congress was comparatively a 
 
 248 
 
IN PRIVATE LIFE 249 
 
 quiet one. Peace had been ratified between Mexico and the 
 United States at Guadalupe Hidalgo, in February, the Presi- 
 dential Campaign was over, and there was a lull in National 
 Politics for the time being. The session of Congress preceding 
 the inauguration of a new President is apt to be dull, and rou- 
 tine business is about all that is brought forward. 
 
 Lincoln was constantly in his place, serving still upon the 
 Committee on Postoffices and Post Roads to which he had 
 been assigned the previous session. He was chiefly occupied, 
 however, in drawing up a bill to abolish slavery in the Dis- 
 trict of Columbia. In common with many others he thought 
 it a shame and a disgrace that traffic in slaves should be carried 
 on right under the shadow of the Capitol in which Congress as- 
 sembled to carry on national business. Lincoln knew that he 
 could do nothing with such a hill unless he had the support of 
 the voters of the District, so he took counsel with some of the 
 leading citizens of Washington and some of the more promi- 
 nent of the members of Congress before bringing it forward. 
 
 It was a moderate bill. It recognized property in slaves, for 
 it provided that the Government should buy and free the slaves 
 held in the District, but it excited such a storm of protest that 
 it never came to a vote. 
 
 Soon after, Congress adjourned, and he returned to Spring- 
 field. As has been said, there was but one Whig district in the 
 State, and there were many Whigs ambitious to represent it. 
 So it was the custom for no man to serve two terms in succes- 
 sion; therefore, Lincoln was not a candidate for re-election. 
 Rut his practice was dissipated, and he saw that he should have 
 to build it up again. He was urged by many of his Whig 
 friends to become an applicant for the office of Commissioner 
 of the General Land Office, which was an office he would have 
 
250 LINCOLN 
 
 liked, but he had already promised his influence to secure it for 
 others of his friends, and the prize went to Justin Butterfield 
 of Chicago. 
 
 But the Administration felt that something was due to 
 Abraham Lincoln for his efforts in its behalf, so he was of- 
 fered the post of Governor or Secretary of the Territory of 
 Oregon. This offer appealed to Lincoln. It was more suited 
 to him than the other, and he was favorably inclined towards it. 
 He resolved to consult his wife on the matter. 
 
 "Mary, how would you like to go to Oregon as the wife of 
 the Governor?" he asked at dinner one day by way of open- 
 ing the subject. 
 
 "Abraham Lincoln, surely you are not thinking of going to 
 a way-off place like that?'" exclaimed his wife. 
 
 "Well, the Administration has offered me the refusal of such 
 a position," replied Lincoln. "I thought I'd talk it over with 
 you. You see if I were to take it, later — when it is admitted as 
 a State — I might be returned to Congress as its first Senator. 
 Some of my friends think it would be advisable to accept it." 
 
 "I have no doubt of it," ejaculated Mrs. Lincoln with some 
 tartness. "It would get you out of the way of their ambitions." 
 
 "My dear," reproved Lincoln who never believed ill of any 
 one. "I am sure there are no such thoughts in their minds. You 
 see my practice is pretty badly broken up, and will have to be 
 built up again. It may take a long while — " 
 
 "Abraham, you would be throwing yourself away," inter- 
 rupted his wife. "Springfield is as much of a frontier as I care 
 to be in, or to have the children in. As for your practice you 
 are a lawyer of skill and reputation. Mr. Edwards says so, and 
 so do others. It won't be long before you will have all the busi- 
 ness that you can attend to. Your term in Congress will in- 
 
IN PRIVATE LIFE 251 
 
 crease your value. You will have more prestige and standing 
 than you ever had. As for the Senatorship ! There is no reason 
 in the world why you should not be Senator from Illinois 
 some day. Illinois is the place for you in any case." 
 
 "Perhaps you are right," observed Lincoln thoughtfully. 
 He was amazed at his wife's quick grasp of the situation. "Any- 
 way we won't go if you don't want to go. But don't delude 
 yourself with hopes of my getting the Senatorship. My po- 
 litical career is over. You see the people didn't like my taking 
 the stand I did on the Mexican War." 
 
 "They'll forget all that, and call on you if any emergency 
 arises," was Mrs. Lincoln's wise comment. "Mr. Edwards says 
 that there isn't another man in the party who can talk to the 
 people as you can; that they depend upon you to reach the 
 people for them. Anyway, whether you go back into politics or 
 not, I would rather stay here." 
 
 "All right, Mary," said Lincoln again. His wife's wishes 
 were law to him. "We won't go. I hope that we are making no 
 mistake." 
 
 It was, however, a fortunate deliverance for him, as Lincoln 
 found later. In accordance with the modest view he took of his 
 attainments it was with diffidence that he consulted with Wil- 
 liam H. Herndon. 
 
 "Billy," he said, "Mary wants me to turn down the Oregon 
 proposition, and go on with the law here in Springfield. I 
 reckon I'd better open up another office. While I was in Con- 
 gress the most of my practice passed into other hands, and what 
 business you have has been acquired by your own exertions. It 
 doesn't seem a fair shake to you to come back and share in 
 your practice and profits." 
 
 "But your value has increased as a partner, Mr. Lincoln," 
 
252 LINCOLN 
 
 responded Herndon. "Besides, you aided me and gave me 
 prominence when I was young and needed it. Suppose we let 
 the partnership go on?" 
 
 "AH right, Billy, if you feel that way about it. I shall be 
 happier here with you than with any one else." 
 
 So Lincoln resumed his law practice with more earnestness 
 than ever before, and with more success than he had ever had. 
 As a member of the State Legislature and of Congress, as a 
 lawyer on the circuit he had associated with men of refinement 
 and culture. All these contacts had shown him a certain lack 
 in himself of close and sustained reasoning. To remedy this 
 defect he now applied himself to the study of Euclid, and mas- 
 tered the first six books, retaining thereafter an intimate 
 knowledge of the principles involved. He carried too a well- 
 worn copy of Shakespeare in which he read a great deal in his 
 leisure moments, and familiarized himself with other works of 
 general literature. 
 
 His partner, William H. Herndon, was imaginative, and 
 often grew enthusiastic, sometimes adopting a lofty metaphor 
 by way of embellishment in his speeches. Lincoln spoke to him 
 warningly one day: 
 
 "Billy, don't shoot too high — aim lower and the common peo- 
 ple will understand you. They are the ones you want to reach 
 — at least they are the ones you ought to reach. The educated 
 and refined peoj^le will understand you anyway. If you aim 
 too high your ideas will go over the heads of the masses, and 
 only hit those who need no hitting." 
 
 It was the secret of his own success in speaking to the peo- 
 ple. In the making of points which come home to the general 
 mind Lincoln was never surpassed by any American orator. 
 
 The honesty of his character was always evident in his prac- 
 
IN PRIVATE LIFE 253 
 
 tice. With him justice and truth were paramount. If a thing 
 were not true he wished to have nothing to do with it. At one 
 times Messrs. Stuart and Edwards brought suit against a client 
 of Lincoln and Herndon which involved the title of a consid- 
 erable property. The plaintiffs were pressing for a trial, which 
 the partners were anxious to ward off until the next term of 
 court. During Lincoln's absence Herndon overheard a remark 
 from Stuart indicating his fear lest a certain fact should come 
 into the possession of Lincoln and Herndon. Full of glee Hern- 
 don drew up a skilfully worded plea, framed as though they 
 knew the fact and had the evidence to sustain it ; a plea which, 
 if presented, was certain to bring about the postponement of 
 the suit. Lincoln came into court before the plea was presented, 
 and, as was his custom, looked carefully over the papers in the 
 case. Coming to the false plea, he glanced at it, then asked: 
 
 "Billy, is this seventh plea a good one?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed, Mr. Lincoln," answered Herndon proudly. 
 
 "But is it founded on fact?" asked Lincoln incredulously. 
 
 "No," confessed Herndon. "It isn't; but it's a mighty good 
 plea for all that." He followed up his answer with an explana- 
 tion of what he had overheard wStuart say. "Now, if we put a 
 certain construction on these alleged facts they can be called 
 facts, and our client can obtain the time we need. If we don't 
 he may be ruined. Therefore, I claim that the use of this plea 
 is justifiable," he concluded. 
 
 Lincoln scratched his head thoughtfully. 
 
 "Hadn't we better withdraw that plea, Billy?" he asked. 
 "You know it's a sham, and a sham is very often but another 
 name for a lie. Don't let it go on record. The cursed thing may 
 come staring us in the face long after this suit has been for- 
 gotten." 
 
254 LINCOLN 
 
 Herndon grumbled, but he withdrew the plea. It was by 
 such scrupulous honesty that Lincoln won a standing and a 
 reputation which were worth more to him than fine gold. 
 
 His retention by a man to defend a law suit did not prevent 
 him from throwing it up in its most critical stage if he learned 
 that he was espousing an unjust cause. He never believed in 
 suing for a fee. If a client would not pay on request, he never 
 sought to enforce collection. Nor would he encourage litiga- 
 tion. He always counselled the young men who came into the 
 office to study law: 
 
 "Discourage litigation. Persuade your neighbors to com- 
 promise whenever you can. Point out to them the nominal win- 
 ner is often a real loser — in fees, expenses, and waste of time. 
 As a peacemaker the lawyer has a superior opportunity of 
 being a good man. There will still be business enough." And 
 no man at the Bar ever carried out this advice more conscien- 
 tiously than he. 
 
 It was no wonder that he was one of the best known and best 
 liked men in the Eighth Judicial Circuit. This circuit was a 
 large one, extending over fourteen counties, and was more 
 than one hundred and fifty miles broad, yet there was not a 
 county-seat where his arrival was not made a little festival. 
 The bench and the bar would gather at the tavern where he 
 was expected to give him a cordial welcome. Whatever his 
 cares he never inflicted them upon others. He talked well, but 
 never about himself. "He was full of wit which never wounded, 
 of humor which mellowed the harshness of that new raw life 
 of the prairie. He never asked for help, but he was always 
 ready to give it." x 
 
 If Lincoln could be of service to any one he was always 
 
 i Nicolay and Hay. 
 
IN PRIVATE LIFE 255 
 
 willing to oblige, no matter in what capacity. His fellow law- 
 yers often twitted him on this trait. One day, in December, 
 1849, occurred such an incident. The court was sitting at De- 
 catur, and had been dismissed for the noon recess. The usual 
 crowd of witnesses, clients, itinerant peddlers, showmen, and 
 other curious folk, followed in the wake of the lawyers as the 
 latter made their way to the Macon House. A wagon was 
 backed up to the steps of the front door, completely blocking 
 the entrance. 
 
 "What's in that box in the wagon, Mr. Krone?" some one 
 asked the landlord. 
 
 "That there's a piano," was the answer. "There's a woman 
 stopping here wants it unloaded, but we're short of men. Who 
 will lend a hand?" 
 
 There was a big crowd of men, but none of them offered. A 
 piano was a curiosity at the time, and this particular instru- 
 ment had been shipped down the Ohio to the mouth of the 
 Wabash, and up the Wabash to Crawfordsville, Indiana. From 
 Crawfordsville it had been carted to Decatur in a wagon. The 
 men were so busily discussing the probable route that they did 
 not think of offering assistance. Seeing this Lincoln threw off 
 his big gray Scotch shawl which, in the fashion of the time, he 
 wore around his shoulders, and stepped forward. 
 
 "Come on, Swett," he called to a fellow attorney. "You are 
 the next biggest man." 
 
 Mr. Swett stepped forward and after a few moments' con- 
 versation with the driver of the wagon, Lincoln went into the 
 basement of the hotel where the landlord kept a carpenter shop, 
 and returned with two heavy timbers across his shoulders. With 
 these he established communication between the wagon and the 
 front door steps. Then, amid the jeers and laughter of the 
 
256 LINCOLN 
 
 crowd, the wagon was unloaded with the help of two other men. 
 
 Before the legs had been screwed into place dinner was an- 
 nounced, and there was a scramble for the dining room. At 
 the taverns the judge and the lawyers sat at one end of the 
 table, while the witnesses and prisoners, with the ordinary 
 guests sat at the other. On this day Lincoln sat down at the 
 wrong end of the table among the common folks, Judge Davis, 
 who ruled the whole bar with a rod of iron, called down to 
 him : 
 
 "Come up here where you belong, Lincoln." 
 
 "Got anything better to eat at your end, judge?" drawled 
 Lincoln. He remained where he was. 
 
 After dinner Lincoln, who never left anything uncompleted, 
 superintended the setting up of the piano, even to seeing that 
 it set squarely in the centre of the wall space allotted to it. 
 As Mrs. Johns, the lady to whom the instrument belonged, 
 thanked him for his aid, he said, 
 
 "May we have a tune before we go?" 
 
 "Yes," she answered sitting down at once, and opening the 
 piano. "And further, you have been so kind, Mr. Lincoln, 
 that if you and the others desire it I will give a concert to- 
 night for you." 
 
 "Why that would give us great pleasure, Mrs. Johns," re- 
 turned Lincoln. "We don't often have such a treat on the cir- 
 cuit." 
 
 That evening a notable crowd gathered in the parlor of the 
 Macon House, Judge Davis, and practically all the members 
 of the Eighth Judicial Circuit being present. Mrs. Johns 
 found that some of the men could sing and play and she called 
 on them for assistance. 
 
 She played the "Battle of Prague," the "Carnival of Ven- 
 
IN PRIVATE LIFE 257 
 
 ice," and followed with "Washington's March." She sang 
 Henry Russell's "Maniac," and the "Ship on Fire," then made 
 them shiver with the wild wail of the "Irish Mother's Lament." 
 As an offset to these she followed with "Old Dan Tucker," 
 "Lucy Long," and "Jim Crow." Some of the men sang 
 "Rocked in the Cradle of the Deep," "Bonaparte's Grave," 
 and "Kathleen Mavourneen," and other songs then in vogue. 
 As the musicians paused to rest Mrs. Johns said, 
 
 "Couldn't some of you gentlemen recite something, or make 
 us a speech? We ought to have variety in our entertainment." 
 
 Mr. Swett, who had been one of the singers, turned at once 
 towards Lincoln. 
 
 "Lincoln, what was that piece you were reciting this morn- 
 ing? Mr. Lincoln," he said, turning towards the others, "gets 
 up before his roommates, and either studies or muses before the 
 fire. This morning he recited a poem that seemed to me very 
 fine. Let us hear it, won't you, Lincoln?" 
 
 "It's a poem of which I am very fond," said Lincoln rising 
 slowly. "It seems to me as much like true poetry as anything I 
 ever heard. I do not know the name of the author, or if I ever 
 knew I have forgotten it. It is called 'Immortality.' " * 
 
 "'Oh, why should the spirit of mortal be proud? 
 Like a swift -flying meteor, a fast-flying cloud, 
 A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave, 
 He passeth from life to rest in the grave. 
 
 " 'The leaves of the oak and the willow shall fade, 
 Be scattered around, and together be laid ; 
 And the young and the old, and the low and the high, 
 Shall molder to dust, and together shall lie. 
 
 i This poem is by William Knox, a Scotch pastoral poet. It was Lincoln's favorite 
 poem. 
 
258 LINCOLN 
 
 " 'The infant a mother attended and loved, 
 
 The mother that infant's affection who proved, 
 The husband that infant and mother who blest — 
 Each, all, are away to their dwellings of rest. 
 
 " 'The maid, on whose cheek, on whose brow, in whose eye, 
 Shone beauty and pleasure, her triumphs are by ; 
 And the memory of those who loved her and praised, 
 Are alike from the minds of the living erased. 
 
 "'The hand of the king that the sceptre hath borne, 
 The brow of the priest that the mitre hath worn 
 The eye of the sage, and the heart of the brave, 
 Are hidden and lost in the depths of the grave. 
 
 " 'The peasant whose lot was to sow and to reap, 
 
 The herdsman who climbed with his goats up the steep, 
 The beggar who wandered in search of his bread, 
 Have faded away like the grass that we tread. 
 
 "'The saint who enjoyed the communion of Heaven, 
 The sinner who dared to remain unforgiven, 
 The wise and the foolish, the guilty and just, 
 Have quietly mingled their bones in the dust. 
 
 " 'So the multitude goes, like the flower or the weed 
 That withers away to let others succeed; 
 So the multitude come, even those we behold, 
 To repeat every tale that has often been told. 
 
 " 'Yea, hope and despondency, pleasure and pain, 
 Are mingled together in sunshine and rain ; 
 And the smile and the tear, the song and the dirge, 
 Shall follow each other like surge upon surge. 
 
IN PRIVATE LIFE 259 
 
 " 'Tis the wink of an eye, 'tis the draught of a breath, 
 From the blossom of health to the paleness of death, 
 From the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud — 
 Oh, why should the spirit of mortal be proud?' " 
 
 There was silence for a time after this, and then Mrs. Johns 
 said, as she went again to the piano. 
 
 "That calls for something devout as an appropriate ending 
 to the evening's entertainment." Forthwith she sang, "He 
 Doeth All Things Well." 
 
 When she had finished Lincoln thanked her for the pleasure 
 she had given them, and said gravely, as there came calls for 
 more music from the crowd: 
 
 "Don't let's spoil that song by any more music tonight." 
 
 A sentiment in which the lady concurred. 1 
 
 1 This incident taken from the Reminiscences of Mr6. Jane Martin Johns. Given 
 in "The Soul of Abraham Lincoln," by Dr. Barton. 
 
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE 
 
 THE FALLOW YEARS 
 
 In the weeks that followed Lincoln found it hard to sub- 
 scribe to the belief that all things are for the best. When court 
 on the circuit for the time being was over, and he returned home 
 in January he found that the younger boy, Edward Baker, 
 was quite ill. Mrs. Lincoln met him at the door with the infor- 
 mation. She was worn and pale. 
 
 "What seems to be the matter with him, Mary?" asked Lin- 
 coln anxiously, immediately troubled. 
 
 "Oh, I don't know, Abraham," she uttered brokenly. "Dr. 
 Wallace says it's a childish complaint, but he seems worried 
 anyway. I have about given up all hope. He looks so, so — " 
 and she burst into tears. 
 
 "There, there," spoke Lincoln tenderly drawing her to him. 
 "You are tired and worn out. Perhaps it's not so bad as you 
 fear." 
 
 But he was filled with misgiving as he saw the fever-flushed 
 countenance of his little son, and felt the hot throbbing pulse. 
 
 The child lacked but a month of completing his fourth year, 
 and was an attractive little fellow. Lincoln was passionately 
 
 260 
 
THE FALLOW YEARS 261 
 
 attached to his children, and they idolized him. Now when the 
 little boy saw his father he held out his arms to him. 
 
 "Hold me, papa," he said. 
 
 And Lincoln held him. All night with his wife and the phy- 
 sician he watched over the little sufferer. Days passed in which 
 he scarcely left the child's bedside; days fraught with keenest 
 anxiety. At length there came a time when, at the end of a long 
 night of watching, the physician lifted the still form of the little 
 son who would never call to him again from Lincoln's arms, 
 and laid it gently on the bed. 
 
 "He is past all suffering now, Mr. Lincoln," he said. 
 
 In the dark time that followed it seemed to Lincoln that 
 light had gone out of his life, but he stifled his bitter grief 
 in the effort to comfort his wife. Perhaps there is no anguish 
 so poignant as that which accompanies the loss of a little child. 
 No bereavement that leaves such utter desolation behind. The 
 patter of little feet is heard no more; the soft touch of little 
 hands is no longer felt; the prattle of the childish voice is 
 stilled; the smiles of the little face no longer seen — Ah! the 
 blankness, the desolateness ; the heart so lonely, lonely! 
 
 The rector of the Episcopalian Church, with which body 
 Mrs. Lincoln was affiliated, being out of the city, the Reverend 
 Dr. James Smith, the new pastor of the First Presbyterian 
 Church, was called to officiate at the funeral. 
 
 Dr. Smith was a good man, and spoke such words of com- 
 fort to the bereaved parents that they took him at once into 
 their hearts. Lincoln rented a pew in his church, and Mrs. Lin- 
 coln joined its membership. 
 
 There was always something vaguely familiar about the 
 pastor to Lincoln. Somewhere he had seen him before, but he 
 could not place him. When he was sixteen years of age he had 
 
262 LINCOLN 
 
 heard a sermon by a travelling Presbyterian minister. The sub- 
 ject was: "Is there no Balm in Gilead? Is there no Physician 
 there?" The sermon was delivered at Rockfort, four miles 
 from his father's farm in Indiana, and he had been much im- 
 pressed by it. Soon after the death of his boy he was startled 
 to hear the same sermon preached by Dr. Smith. He sought 
 him as soon as the services were over. 
 
 "Was it you, doctor, who preached that sermon at Rockfort 
 long ago?" he asked. 
 
 "It must have been, Mr. Lincoln," was the reply. "For I 
 delivered this sermon at Rockfort twenty-five years ago. But 
 how strange for you to remember it all these years!" 
 
 "I have never forgotten it," Lincoln told him, "and never 
 shall. It made a deep impression on me at the time." 
 
 Dr. Smith presented him with a copy of his book, "The 
 Christian's Defense," which Lincoln read with close attention. 
 He told Dr. Smith that he regarded its argument as unan- 
 swerable. A mutual and congenial friendship developed be- 
 tween the two. 
 
 The sadness of the household was lightened when, on De- 
 cember 21st of that year, 1850, another boy came to gladden 
 them. They named him William Wallace Lincoln, and his ad- 
 vent did much to heal the soreness of Lincoln's heart. He was 
 never so happy as when he was with his children, and when at 
 home devoted some time every day to them. He played ball 
 or marbles with Bob, as Robert was called, and talked to and 
 fondled the Baby Willie. 
 
 It is said that one death in a family is always followed by 
 another. Lincoln recalled the old superstition when in Jan- 
 uary he received a letter from John Johnston, his step-brother, 
 telling him that his father was very ill; so ill, in fact, that it 
 
THE FALLOW YEARS 263 
 
 was probable that he would not get well. It was impossible for 
 Lincoln to leave home at the time. Mrs. Lincoln was ill, and he 
 was burdened with many cares. So he sent money to get what- 
 ever was necessary for his father's comfort, and wrote to John : 
 
 "I sincerely hope that father may yet recover his health; 
 but, at all events, tell him to remember to call upon and con- 
 fide in our good and merciful Father and Maker, who will not 
 turn away from him in any extremity. He notes the fall of the 
 sparrow, and numbers the hairs of our heads; and he will not 
 forget the dying man who puts his trust in Him. Say to him 
 that if we could meet now, it is doubtful whether it would not 
 be more painful than pleasant, but that if it be his lot to go now, 
 he will soon have a joyful meeting with the loved ones gone 
 before, and where the rest of us, through the mercy of God, 
 hope erelong to join them." 
 
 Lincoln had never lost sight of his father and step-mother. 
 Through all the years he had aided them by gifts of money and 
 comforts, often when he could ill afford to do so. During his 
 first year in Congress he had finished paying off his own in- 
 debtedness from his salary, which left him able to aid them in 
 a more substantial manner than he had ever done. At the close 
 of the second session of the Thirtieth Congress he had re- 
 turned from Washington to Springfield by way of his father's 
 place at Goose Neck Prairie, a small farming community in 
 Coles County where Thomas Lincoln had finally settled, and 
 had paid off the mortgage on the farm thus making him owner 
 of two hundred acres of land, free and clear. 
 
 There had been many appeals to him for monej'- which he 
 had always met very cheerfully, when he had it, and he had in 
 every way shown his filial affection. And not only had he 
 aided his parents but others of his relatives as well. His step- 
 
264 LINCOLN 
 
 brother, John Johnston, who was an easy-going and unthrifty 
 person, applied every now and again for a lift, and usually got 
 it; though Lincoln knew that often these benefactions were 
 imprudently used. He had never held himself aloof but had 
 always shown the greatest consideration for his relatives, go- 
 ing to see them whenever he was in their neighborhood, and he 
 never assumed the slightest superiority to them. 
 
 Thomas Lincoln died in January, 1851, at the age of 73 
 years. He had lived to see his son become one of the best- 
 known men and leading lawyers of the State, and had grown 
 proud of his ability to "talk politics," although, it will be re- 
 membered, that often he had reproved his son for that very 
 thing. 
 
 Lincoln's heart was full when he received word of his death. 
 Faults are forgotten at such a time, and so he thought tenderly 
 of his father, remembering only how happy-go-lucky, and 
 good-natured he had been. Perhaps, after all, his life, lacking 
 in enterprise and ambition though it was, was happier than 
 one filled with the strife for success. Lincoln was growing 
 graver, and was much given to reflection, and wondering about 
 many things: life, death, and the why and wherefore of the 
 universe. His smoothly shaven face was sallow and deeply 
 lined, and moods of abstraction were becoming frequent. And 
 yet it was said of him that "He could make a cat laugh." The 
 truth was that Lincoln was very human, and was honest in the 
 expression of his feelings, whether serious or otherwise. 
 
 Moreover, though out of politics so far as self was concerned, 
 he was far from being indifferent to the course of political af- 
 fairs, and at this time was perturbed over certain enactments 
 of Congress; acts that were supposed to settle forever every- 
 thing pertaining to human slavery in the country, but which 
 
THE FALLOW YEARS 265 
 
 satisfied neither the North nor the South. They were so un- 
 satisfactory to Lincoln that he was much disturbed. Once, 
 when he and Herndon were out on the circuit together, he 
 exclaimed gloomily: 
 
 "How hard, ah, how hard it is to die and leave one's coun- 
 try no better than if one had never lived in it! The world is 
 dead to hope, dead to its own death struggle, made known by a 
 universal cry. What is to be done? Is anything to be done? 
 And how is it to be done? Do you ever think of these things?" 
 
 In 1852 he accepted reluctantly the place of Presidential 
 Elector on the Whig ticket of the State. He simply remarked 
 that he was a "standing candidate for Whig Elector, but sel- 
 dom elected anybody." 
 
 The campaign was one in which General Winfield Scott was 
 pitted against General Franklin Pierce. This time the Demo- 
 cratic nominee, Franklin Pierce, was chosen. Although Lin- 
 coln consented to stand on the Scott electoral ticket, he did not 
 go into the canvass with his customary enthusiasm. The two 
 big parties, Whigs and Democrats, at their Conventions, had 
 solemnly resolved to discountenance any further renewal of 
 the slavery agitation, a stand in which they were upheld by the 
 Organs of the Press and popular opinion. Thus muzzled on 
 the only subject on which he felt deeply Lincoln made few 
 speeches, and these few were not specially noteworthy. So 
 true is it that one can neither speak nor write well except on 
 subjects in which the whole being is interested. 
 
 It may be noted that at this time Lincoln was one of the 
 few lawyers in Springfield who was not afraid to undertake 
 the defense of any one who had been engaged in helping off 
 fugitive slaves. It was a very unpopular business, and few felt 
 that they could afford to engage in it. One who needed such 
 
266 LINCOLN 
 
 aid went to Edward D. Baker, and was refused defense frankly 
 on the ground that, as a political man, he could not afford it. 
 "Go to Lincoln," he advised. "If he is at home he will take 
 your case. I don't know of any other lawyer who would dare 
 do it." 
 
 One afternoon an old negro woman came to the door of the 
 office in which both Lincoln and Herndon sat, and stood hesi- 
 tating upon its threshold. 
 
 "What can we do for you, madam?" asked Lincoln catching 
 sight of her. 
 
 "Is you all Marster Linkun?" she questioned timidly. 
 
 "I am Mr. Lincoln, but not master," said Lincoln kindly. 
 "Come in and have a chair. Were you in any trouble that you 
 wished to see me?" 
 
 "Yas, suh; yas; thank ye, Marster — er Mistah Linkun. I'se 
 in great trubble, suh. You see hit am dis way: I'se bohn in 
 slabery down in ole Kentucky. En' all my chilluns am bohn in 
 slabery too. Well, we 'longed to Marster Hinkle, en de ole 
 Marster tuk hit inter his haid ter mobe ter Illinois. When he 
 got heah he said dat he dassent hole us niggahs as slabes enny 
 moah, fo' dis am a Free State. En what did he do but set us 
 all free. Yas, suh; me en all de chilluns. We am all free nig- 
 gahs, suh." 
 
 "That's fine," said Lincoln heartily. "Fine! And then what 
 happened?" 
 
 "Well, suh, my boy, John, as likely er niggah as you ebber 
 see, — Marster — er — Mistah Linkun, went off ter be er waitah 
 on de ribber boat ; on de Mississip, suh. Dey tuk him down de 
 ribber ter New'leans, en when dey ties de boat ter de dock 
 what does dat fool niggah do but git offen dat dere boat, 
 and goes er walkin' er 'bout de streets. 'Co'se dey nabs him, 
 
THE FALLOW YEARS 267 
 
 en puts him in de calaboose ; den dey tuks him into coht, en den 
 dey fines him, en now deys gwine ter sell him into slabery er- 
 gin ter pay his fine, en de 'spenses." 
 
 "But where was the boat? Wouldn't the officers help him?" 
 
 "De boat had left, suh. En John he gits de preacher man 
 what kums ter de calaboose ter write ter me ter git him outen 
 de jail. Heah am de lettah, suh. En, en you'll git him back fo' 
 his ole mammy; won't you, Mistah Linkun?" 
 
 The tears were streaming down her cheeks as she finished the 
 pitiful story. It was the custom of the times that any negro 
 found wandering about the streets at night without a pass from 
 his owner should be confined in the jail until he was claimed. 
 If he were a negro from another State, he was regarded as a 
 runaway, imprisoned, tried, fined, and often sold to pay his 
 fine and the expenses of the trial. Lincoln read the letter the 
 chaplain had written, and found the story to be just as she had 
 related it. He was much moved, and turned to her compas- 
 sionately. 
 
 "We'll do everything we can to bring him back to you," he 
 promised. "Billy," turning towards his partner, "will you go 
 over to the State House, and ask Governor Bissell if there is 
 not something that he could do to obtain possession of this 
 boy? He is a free negro. Surely there is some way to get him 
 out of jail and bring him home." 
 
 Herndon returned after a short absence, with an exceedingly 
 grave face. 
 
 "The governor regrets very much to say that there is no 
 remedy provided by the Constitution or the laws for such a 
 state of affairs. He says that there is nothing he can do," re- 
 ported Herndon. 
 
 "By the Almighty!" exclaimed Lincoln rising to his feet in 
 
268 LINCOLN 
 
 great excitement. "I'll have that negro back soon, or I'll have 
 a twenty years' excitement in Illinois until the governor does 
 have a legal and constitutional right to do something in the 
 premises!" 
 
 The excitement came in less than twenty years, but not in 
 just the way that Lincoln would have liked. The negro was 
 brought back soon, but the two lawyers sent money of their 
 own to a correspondent in New Orleans who paid the boy's fine 
 and other expenses, and he came back to his mother. 
 
 So, though there was a great desire for peace among the 
 people of both sections, though weary of agitation, agitation 
 went on. The compromise measures of 18.50 were proving a 
 wretched basis for peace, and neither North nor South was 
 satisfied. 
 
 In the office of Lincoln and Herndon there was much discus- 
 sion of the subject between the partners. Herndon was an ar- 
 dent Abolitionist; Lincoln believed slavery to be wrong, but 
 that by the Constitution the South had a legal right to its slaves. 
 That is, the States which alread}^ had slavery. He did not wish 
 that it should be extended. The partners kept the political af- 
 fairs of the whole nation under attention. Herndon kept the 
 office table supplied with the leading Abolition papers of the 
 North. Lincoln subscribed for Southern papers and periodicals. 
 
 "Let us have both sides on our table, Billy," he said. "Each 
 is entitled to its 'Day in Court.' " 
 
 In addition to the full use of the exchanges of the "Illinois 
 State Journal," and the Abolition papers, they had "The 
 Charleston Mercury," "The Richmond Enquirer," and "The 
 Louisville Journal"; also "The Literary Southern Messenger," 
 an able monthly, a political and literary magazine, formerly 
 
THE FALLOW YEARS 269 
 
 edited by Edgar Allan Poe, and later by J. R. Thompson. 1 So 
 that Lincoln kept in touch with all the conflicting opinions of 
 North and South, East and West. Had he known what lay be- 
 fore him it is difficult to see how his preparation could have 
 been more thorough, exact and comprehensive. 
 
 When a farmer wishes a bumper crop he lets the land lie 
 fallow. It lies there; the ground seems unproductive, idle, but 
 it is gathering and storing up the necessary essentials for pro- 
 ducing the crop that is to be. Silently it takes what it needs 
 from the air, the dew, the rain, the frost, and from the grass 
 which is plowed under. When at last it is ready, the ground 
 seeded, a great harvest is obtained. 
 
 And so with Lincoln. To all appearance these years were 
 quiet, peaceful ones, devoted to his family and his profession. 
 But he was studying, reading, reflecting, and progressing men- 
 tally. How far he had gone men were later amazed to learn. 
 He kept in touch with the views of all sections, reviewing and 
 sifting opinions, until there was, in truth, no other man who 
 understood so well "how all the people were thinking or why 
 they thought as they did." 
 
 On the 4th of April, 1853, Lincoln's fourth son was born. 
 When he took the little fellow into his arms for the first time 
 the baby cooed and smiled. 
 
 "Why, the little tadpole," exclaimed Lincoln delightedly. 
 
 And, though the child was, in time, named Thomas Thad- 
 deus Lincoln, he was always known as Tad. 
 
 Robert, the oldest son, was now nearly ten years old, and 
 was a sturdy boy. Willie was in his third year, and Lincoln 
 was devoted to them. There were those who claimed that he "in- 
 
 i Personal Recollections of Abraham Lincoln, by Henry B. Rankin. 
 
270 LINCOLN 
 
 dulged" his boys too much. It was a fact that he could deny 
 them nothing. Perhaps he remembered his own hard childhood, 
 and its lack of joys. And too, he had lost a child. One is apt 
 to be over-indulgent to those who are left in such a case. His 
 exceeding love for his own boys made him tender to all boys; 
 so tender that, later, boys who called him "Father Abraham," 
 never appealed to him in vain when they had need of mercy or 
 forgiveness. 
 
 So the days glided by, peacefully, serenely. And then out 
 of a clear sky, there occurred an event in national politics that 
 aroused Lincoln as he had never been roused before. 
 
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO 
 
 THE STATESMAN 
 
 The Compromise measures of 1850 were supposed to set- 
 tle forever the slavery question for the country. As has been 
 said, they had not given complete satisfaction to either North 
 or South, but attachment for the Union was growing, and this 
 sentiment quickly subdued all feeling of discontent. Men were 
 beginning to be willing to yield a great deal in order to pre- 
 serve the Union, and there had been much talk of disunion be- 
 fore the measures passed. But after their passage the people 
 fondly dreamed that they had, in current phraseology, reached 
 a "finality." 
 
 To encourage unity there had been compromise from the 
 very birth of the nation, but in spite of it the agitation concern- 
 ing slavery had continued with the growth of the country, and 
 become intensified with its strength. It seemed always to lie 
 just under the surface of politics ready to burst forth on the 
 least provocation. To further their own ends politicians would 
 drag it forth ; so perhaps it is not to be wondered at that "Fi- 
 nality" did not end the controversy as had been so fondly 
 hoped. 
 
 271 
 
272 LINCOLN 
 
 The discovery of gold in California had caused an era of 
 wonder to dawn upon the country. Plains and mountains 
 swarmed with emigrants and adventurers bound for the new 
 El Dorado. The whole great West clamored for the open- 
 ing up of new routes of travel and emigration, and of new 
 territories to settlement. In answer to this demand Oregon, 
 Utah, New Mexico and Minnesota were organized as Terri- 
 tories, and in 1853 Kansas and Nebraska began to knock at the 
 door of Congress to be organized also. As these lay to the north 
 and west of Missouri they of course came under the prohibition 
 of slavery by the Missouri Compromise of 1820. 
 
 In his position as Chairman of the Senate Committee on 
 Territories it was the duty of Stephen A. Douglas to handle 
 the opening of new territories, and being thoroughly in sym- 
 pathy with the demand, he took up the matter immediately. 
 There had been much trouble between the Indians of the west- 
 ern lands and the emigrants, and Douglas knew that a safe 
 highway to the Pacific Coast was a necessity. Not only was 
 such a highway needed for the thousands who were annually 
 crossing the plains but also for the protection of Oregon and 
 California in time of war and as a bond of union between the 
 East and the West. To this end, therefore, in 1853, he intro- 
 duced two bills in Congress, one following the other, for the 
 organization of the new territories. They were not satisfactory 
 to the members, some fearing that they trespassed upon the 
 Indian lands, so did not pass. And then, in January of 1854, 
 he introduced a bill providing for the organizing of Kansas 
 and Nebraska, declaring that the Missouri Compromise was 
 inoperative, and leaving the question of slavery to the voters 
 of the region. 
 
 Instantly the whole country was in a blaze of excitement. 
 
THE STATESMAN 273 
 
 The Constitution and the Compromises of 1820 and 1850 had 
 settled the status of slavery for every square foot on American 
 soil; right or wrong, the settlement was made. It was a gross 
 blunder to open up the question again. Should the Bill be 
 passed it would take a great mass of territory out of the settle- 
 ment and fling it into the arena as a prize to be contested for 
 by the section; a struggle which would be marked by intense 
 bitterness of feeling, and which would tend to use force as its 
 arbiter. 
 
 There followed four months of fierce controversy in Con- 
 gress during which the North, sadly divided in opposition, pro- 
 tested and appealed in vain. At length, on the 8th of May, 
 1854, amidst the most intense excitement, the Bill was passed. 
 It was perhaps the most momentous Act of Legislation in 
 American history; and one fraught with direst consequences. 
 
 Lincoln in Springfield had been watching the progress of 
 events with great attentiveness. He could not believe that the 
 Bill would be passed. When at last the measure had become a 
 law he was dumbfounded. The news reached him when he was 
 on the circuit. Slowly he went up to his room at the tavern, 
 which he shared with several other lawyers. 
 
 "Well, they've done it," he exclaimed, sinking into a chair 
 before the fire. The May evening seemed suddenly cold. 
 "They've repealed the Missouri Compromise. And now what is 
 to come? A struggle for Kansas and Nebraska, with bloodshed, 
 perhaps. Slavery triumphant there, every Free State may be 
 flung open to the institution. In time the repudiation of the 
 Constitution will follow. What next?" He rose and paced the 
 floor in great excitement. "Why, Billy," he cried turning to 
 Herndon who was present, "we heard Douglas in Springfield 
 declare that the Missouri Compromise had 'an origin akin to 
 
274 LINCOLN 
 
 the Constitution; that it had become canonized in the hearts 
 of the American people as a sacred thing which no ruthless 
 hand would ever be reckless enough to disturb.' You remember 
 that speech; don't you? It was five years ago." 
 
 "Yes; I remember it, Mr. Lincoln," returned Herndon who 
 was almost as badly upset as his partner. "He and the 'Douglas 
 Democrats,' as they call themselves, are intoxicated with the 
 notion that 'squatter sovereignty' will hold the Northern and 
 Southern Democrats together, while it will divide the Whig 
 party to such an extent that it will be destroyed. They believe 
 that what the Democrats will lose from the Northern branch 
 of the party will be more than made up by the recruits from 
 the Southern Whigs. If this becomes the case then Douglas 
 will easily be the nominee of the Democrats for the Presidency 
 in '56." 
 
 "I know he has the itch to be President, and that without the 
 vote of the South he cannot realize that ambition," said Lin- 
 coln. "This very ingenious plan for the extension of slavery is 
 a sop to the South. Oh, that Clay or Webster had been alive 
 to combat it! But they are gone." 
 
 And so he talked, spending the entire evening discussing the 
 repeal, and what it meant to the country. The others went to 
 bed at length, but Lincoln sat by the fire thinking. All night 
 he sat there. Did some vision of what the future would bring 
 come to him, the far-sighted man to whom sometimes it 
 seemed as though the gift of prophecy had been vouchsafed? 
 They found him sitting there in the morning. As though the 
 conversation had not been interrupted Lincoln said, 
 
 "I tell you, this country cannot continue to exist half-slave 
 and half-free. We must stand together. All who are against the 
 
THE STATESMAN 275 
 
 Kansas-Nebraska Bill must stand together if we hope to repeal 
 this iniquitous measure." 
 
 One of the first results of the Act was to throw the parties 
 into chaos. There were Democrats against the measure; Whigs 
 for it. Many men in the North were forced to take position 
 against the Kansas-Nebraska Bill without a party organiza- 
 tion at all, merely calling themselves Anti-Nebraska men. 
 
 It was a year when not only members to the Legislature 
 were to be elected, but Congressmen also. Political excitement 
 ran high, not alone in Illinois, but in every district of the entire 
 country. 
 
 Since his term in Congress Lincoln had taken little part in 
 politics, though he had kept thoroughly in touch with affairs of 
 State. Now, however, roused by the violation of the plighted 
 faith of a generation, he took to the stump again as local pol- 
 itics became active. His Whig friends were delighted with his 
 reappearance in active discussion. "Of old they knew his pe- 
 culiar hold upon the people and his party, and he was sent for 
 in all directions to speak." When he went, however, he dis- 
 tinctly announced that he did not purpose to take up his time 
 with personal controversy. His intentions were to discuss the 
 principles of the Kansas-Nebraska Bill. 
 
 But those who came to be entertained with anecdotes, jokes, 
 and stories as of yore found a new Lincoln. A Lincoln imbued 
 with an unwonted seriousness, an earnest eloquence, a knowl- 
 edge of the institutions of the country, and the history of gov- 
 ernment that held them spell-bound. A Lincoln who chose hu- 
 man rights for his subject and went down to bedrock for his 
 facts, a subject that "furnished material for the inborn gifts 
 of the speaker, his intuitive logic, his impulsive patriotism, his 
 
276 LINCOLN 
 
 pure and poetical conception of local and moral justice." 1 
 Congress adjourned early in August, but it was not until 
 the first week in September that Douglas returned to his home 
 city of Chicago. This was an anti-slavery city, and so great was 
 the storm of indignation that greeted his appearance that he 
 was not permitted to speak in vindication of himself. He began 
 to realize that he had committed a political blunder, and vainly 
 tried to change the popular judgment. A few days of rest 
 served to restore his confidence, and he began a tour of speech- 
 making southward through the State. At these meetings he 
 was accorded a respectful hearing, and as he neared central 
 Illinois his reception became more enthusiastic for the central 
 and southern parts of the State were Southern in sentiment 
 and kinship. The first of October found him at Springfield 
 where the State Agricultural Fair was in progress. 
 
 The Fair was an occasion of great interest. From every 
 corner of the State the people came, drawn by the attractions 
 set forth for their entertainment. But this year, added to glam- 
 our of horse-racing, cattle and stock shows, booths, and side- 
 shows, there was to be a political tournament of speech-making 
 at which Stephen A. Douglas was to speak in justification of 
 his course and in defense of the Kansas-Nebraska Bill. This 
 was expected to be the event of the occasion. Douglas was the 
 leader of his party in Illinois, and was known to the whole 
 nation. He had been in politics for more than twenty years, 
 had had a remarkably successful career, and at the last Presi- 
 dential election had come within a few votes of being his party's 
 nominee for that high office. Naturally, therefore, lie was con- 
 sidered the big drawing card of the speech-making. Naturally, 
 also, he was met on his entrance into the little capital by a 
 
 i N'icolay and Hay. 
 
THE STATESMAN 277 
 
 delegation of leading citizens of the State with a band of fifes 
 and drums, and escorted to the State House where, on account 
 of inclement weather, the speaking was to take place. 
 
 By common consent all eyes were turned to Lincoln as the 
 speaker best qualified to answer him. .Lincoln knew that this 
 was no light task. Douglas was possessed of real ability. "In 
 many qualities of intellect he was truly the 'Little Giant' which 
 popular fancy had named him." He was also possessed of a 
 winning manner, a sonorous voice, and was adept in evasion, 
 adroit and aggressive. Besides, his long official career gave to 
 his utterances the stamp and glitter of oracular statesmanship. 
 Lincoln realized that he was a formidable antagonist. 
 
 But Lincoln had measured strength with him before: at the 
 Bar, in the Legislature, and on the stump. He knew all of his 
 strong points as well as his weak ones, and was not at all averse 
 to being pitted against the author of the raging storm of 
 parties. 
 
 The Representatives' Hall in the State House was densely 
 packed, on that first day of October, 1854. There were many 
 leading men from all parts of the State; many honest voters 
 who were still undecided in their minds about the grave 
 political questions of the day. It was an audience whose 
 enjoyment of the occasion was tempered by seriousness and 
 anxiety. One that felt that a crisis in national affairs por- 
 tended. 
 
 In his opening remarks Douglas said: "I will mention, that 
 it is understood by some gentlemen that Mr. Lincoln, of this 
 city, is expected to answer me. I wish that he would step for- 
 ward and let us arrange some plan upon which to carry out 
 this discussion." 
 
 Lincoln was not present at the moment, and the arrange- 
 
278 LINCOLN 
 
 ments were made later. Douglas then entered into an exposi- 
 tion and defense of his principles and policy with the bearing 
 of a man who has already conquered. He set forth the doctrines 
 of his Kansas-Nebraska Bill with such cleverness that it would 
 deceive all but thinking men and logicians into believing that 
 it was the panacea it pretended to be. He made it appear that 
 the repeal of the Missouri Compromise was in the interest of 
 the whole people and not in the interest of slavery. The speech 
 was ingenious, plausible, and as effective as it could have been 
 in the hands of any living man. 
 
 The speech was four hours long, and men left the Hall, won- 
 dering sadly at Lincoln's temerity in attempting to reply to it. 
 On the next day, at the same place, and to the same dense au- 
 dience, Lincoln spoke. 
 
 And he spoke as he had never spoken before. His whole 
 heart was in his words. He believed that a foul wrong had 
 been done by the repeal of the Missouri Compromise, and 
 his being was stirred to the utmost. He quivered with feel- 
 ing and emotion. His deep-set gray eyes flashed flame-like 
 with the passion that filled him. He was an epic giant as he 
 exposed the fallacies of the Kansas-Nebraska Bill. So con- 
 vincing, so powerful in its logic and so tremendous in its array 
 of facts was his argument that it moved even his opponents 
 to admiration. 
 
 Douglas had dwelt long upon his great panacea for the 
 slavery trouble that the people of the new territories should 
 decide for themselves, subject to the Constitution, whether they 
 should have slavery or not, and also decide for themselves all 
 other questions under the Constitution; that it was an ac- 
 knowledgment of the right of popular sovereignty. He insisted 
 that it was an insult to the emigrants to Kansas and Nebraska 
 
THE STATESMAN 279 
 
 to intimate that the} r were not able to govern themselves, vot- 
 ing slavery in, or out, as they chose. 
 
 Replying to this Lincoln said: 
 
 "My distinguished friend says it is an insult to the emigrants 
 to Kansas and Nebraska to suppose they are not able to govern 
 themselves. We must not slur over an argument of this kind 
 because it happens to tickle the ear. It must be met and an- 
 swered. I admit that the emigrant to Kansas and Nebraska is 
 able to govern himself; but" — rising to his full height — "I 
 deny his right to govern any other person without that person's 
 consent." 
 
 The crowd broke into tumultuous applause. It was the vital 
 point of the whole matter, and showed the difference between 
 him and Douglas. They understood it, and saw through the 
 iniquity of "popular sovereignty," and the Kansas-Nebraska 
 Bill. Again and again they huzzaed to show their apprecia- 
 tion of the clearness and thoroughness of the speaker. 
 
 "At the conclusion of the speech, every man felt that it was 
 unanswerable — that no human power could overthrow it, or 
 trample it underfoot," reported the Springfield "Journal." 
 "The long and repeated applause evinced the feelings of the 
 crowd, and gave token of universal assent to Lincoln's whole 
 argument; and every man present did homage to the man who 
 took captive the heart, and broke like a sun over the under- 
 standing." 
 
 At the close of the speech Douglas hastily took the platform 
 to reply, which was his privilege. He was astonished, angry, 
 disconcerted at the display of oratorical power that Lincoln 
 had exhibited. He began by saying that he had been abused. 
 Then, discerning a hostile movement among the crowd, he 
 added, "but in a perfectly courteous manner." He then at- 
 
280 LINCOLN 
 
 tempted to make some reply to Lincoln's masterly speech, but 
 after a few remarks, concluded by saying that he would con- 
 tinue his address in the evening. But when evening came he 
 was not present, and the remarks promised were never made. 
 
 Previous to this Lincoln had been the leading man of his 
 district, and among the leading men of the State. This speech 
 made him the leader of the State. Urgent calls came to him to 
 speak at all places where Douglas was advertised to speak, 
 and, accordingly, they once more met in debate at Peoria. 
 Douglas opened the debate, but it was noticeable that he had 
 lost something of his assurance. His manner was much modi- 
 fied. Perhaps he had lost confidence in his own position. 
 
 Lincoln's triumph here was even more marked than it had 
 been at Springfield. The harvest of the fallow years was be- 
 ginning, and no man foresaw the greatness and fullness 
 thereof. Some of his utterances were like the clarion call of a 
 trumpet : 
 
 "The doctrine of self-government is right — absolutely and 
 eternally right, — but it has no just application as here at- 
 tempted. Or perhaps I should rather say that whether it has 
 such just application, depends upon whether the Negro is not, 
 or is, a man. If he is not a man, in that case he who is a man 
 may as a matter of self-government do just what he pleases 
 with him. But if the Negro is a man, is it not to that extent a 
 total destruction of self-government to say that he too shall 
 not govern himself? When the White man governs himself, 
 that is self-government; but when he governs himself and also 
 governs another man, that is more than self-government — that 
 is despotism. . . . 
 
 "What I do say is, that no man is good enough to govern 
 another man without that other's consent. . . ." 
 
THE STATESMAN 281 
 
 At the close of this speech Douglas did not even try to re- 
 ply to it. 
 
 Owing largely to Lincoln's efforts a political revolution 
 swept the State, and for the first time since the Democratic 
 party was organized the Legislature was in the hands of the 
 opposition; this opposition being made up of Whigs, Aboli- 
 tionists, and Anti-Nebraska Democrats. This new Legislature 
 had the responsibility of choosing a United States Senator, as 
 successor to James Shields, then a Senator from Illinois, a 
 Democratic colleague with Douglas. Shields was a candidate 
 for re-election, but the fierce excitement that swept the country 
 had endangered his chances. 
 
 The Legislature met in joint ballot, the 8th of February, 
 1855, and the candidates of the several factions were put in 
 nomination. Could the opposition have united they could easily 
 have beaten the Democrats, but their interests seemed too an- 
 tagonistic to do so, and each had its own candidate. Among 
 the Whigs Lincoln, whose speeches had done so much to win 
 the election, was the natural candidate. The Anti-Nebraska 
 Democrats brought forward Lyman Trumbull, an able law- 
 yer and an accomplished debater, as their candidate, and 
 Shields was that of the Democrats. 
 
 After a number of undecisive ballots had been taken it was 
 evident that the opposition would have to harmonize in some 
 way in order to beat the great body of Douglas Democrats, 
 for the latter had dropped Shields and adopted Governor Joel 
 Mattison who was a much stronger man. Should the supporters 
 of Lincoln and Trumbull drop one or the other and unite their 
 forces it was possible to elect one of these gentlemen. 
 
 Lincoln ardently desired the nomination, for he felt that h& 
 might be able to accomplish great things for freedom, but he 
 
282 LINCOLN 
 
 saw that there was actual danger of the Democrats electing 
 their candidate. At this juncture he begged his friends to leave 
 him, and go for Mr. Trumbull. It was long before he could 
 prevail upon them to do so. It seemed like a surrender of the 
 Whig party. At length, however, they yielded to his wishes, 
 though with the sorrow of men assisting at the funeral of a 
 friend. The consequence was the election of Lyman Trumbull 
 as Senator, to the great astonishment of the Democrats who 
 had not believed it possible for the opposition to unite. 
 
 Lincoln's generosity was not lessened by the fact that Judge 
 Trumbull had never been his "political friend, but his op- 
 ponent, and sometimes his unfriendly critic." 
 
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE 
 
 THE GATHERING STORM 
 
 The days came and went bringing with them a widening of 
 the breach between the North and the South. The country 
 seethed with excitement as the natural consequence of the 
 Kansas-Nebraska Bill was manifested in Kansas. Immigra- 
 tion to that territory was directed by both anti-slavery and 
 pro-slavery parties, each determined to control the proposed 
 State Constitution. Then began a struggle that passed into a 
 real civil war, the two factions mustering considerable forces, 
 fighting battles, capturing towns, and paroling prisoners. 
 "Bleeding Kansas" became a phrase in almost every one's 
 mouth. Border ruffians took possession of the polls, and at- 
 tempted to drive out the emigrants who had been assisted to 
 come into the country by the Abolitionists. The result of the 
 legislation on its face made Kansas a slave State, but a great 
 part of the people refused to accept this result; and a conven- 
 tion was held at Topeka which resolved that Kansas should be 
 free even if the law formed by the Legislature should have to 
 be "resisted to a bloody issue." 
 
 Statesmen both in the North and in the South were troubled 
 over existing conditions, and feared the outcome. Unscrupu- 
 
 283 
 
284 LINCOLN 
 
 lous politicians had no such fears, and took advantage of the 
 confusion in State affairs to further their own purposes. 
 
 In the heat of the struggle in Kansas came the Presidential 
 election of 185G. It was a period of transition in politics. The 
 Whig party was almost annihilated; the Democratic party 
 in the North was divided, while the opposition party, not yet 
 united but fighting in factions against the Kansas-Nebraska 
 Bill, only acknowledged political affinity under the general 
 term of "Anti-Nebraska" party. 
 
 By the opening of 1856, however, it became apparent to ob- 
 serving men that the anti-Nebraska struggle was not a mere 
 temporary excitement, but a deep and abiding issue, involving 
 in the fate of slavery the fate of the nation. To meet the exi- 
 gency successfully a party name and party machinery were 
 necessary, and steps were taken to fuse the various elements 
 in order that a National party might be formed. Already in 
 several of the Northern States the party for freedom had or- 
 ganized, fusing the components parts under the name of "Re- 
 publican Party." 
 
 The name "Republican" was the original title of the Demo- 
 cratic party, or rather it was "Democratic-Republican," but 
 the latter had been gradually dropped. The name had always 
 been liked in the North, and it had never passed out of the 
 remembrance of the people, so it was seized upon with avidity. 
 All over the North the States began to organize the opposition 
 party under the new name. 
 
 On Washington's birthday, February 22nd, 1856, the op- 
 position party being still unorganized in Illinois, some fifteen 
 editors met for conference at Decatur, and issued a call for a 
 delegate State Convention of the "Anti-Nebraska" men to 
 meet at Bloomington on the 29th of May for the purpose of 
 
THE GATHERING STORM 285 
 
 effecting an organization. Lincoln was present as guest of 
 honor. 
 
 As late as August, 1856, he still considered himself a Whig, 
 and wrote to his friend Speed, who had written asking how he 
 stood : 
 
 "I think I am a Whig; but others say that there are no 
 Whigs, and that I am an Abolitionist. That is a disputed point. 
 I now do no more than oppose the extension of slavery." 
 
 But Lincoln was thinking. He loved the Whig party, and 
 its associations were very dear to him. It had been a national 
 party, powerful because of its adherents in the South. But as 
 a national party it no longer existed. Its Southern portion had 
 been severed from it by the paramount issue of slavery. The 
 tenets of the opposition were confined almost exclusively to 
 the checking of the further extension of the institution which 
 meant that the new party would be wholly of the North, and 
 therefore sectional. He was a Southerner himself, and it was 
 no light thing to array himself against his own people. But he 
 believed slavery to be wrong; therefore, his logical place was 
 with those who opposed it. He went with the new party. 
 
 The Bloomington Convention came together according to 
 call on the 29th of May. "It was an earnest and determined 
 council of five or six hundred cool, sagacious, independent 
 thinkers, led and directed by the first minds of the State," 
 chief among whom was Abraham Lincoln. It conducted its 
 work with earnestness and dignity. It boldly adopted the 
 Republican name, formulated the Republican creed, nomi- 
 nated a State ticket, and appointed delegates to the coming 
 national convention. 
 
 It was a meeting full of enthusiasm. There were many re- 
 cent happenings that served to excite such feeling. The Con- 
 
286 LINCOLN 
 
 gressional debates at Washington and the civil war in Kansas 
 were each at a culmination of passion and incident. Within ten 
 days Sumner had been struck down in the Senate, and the 
 town of Lawrence sacked by a guerilla posse. It was a time 
 that stirred men's passions. There had been many eloquent 
 speeches, eagerly listened to and applauded, but every one 
 wished to hear Lincoln. 
 
 A silence fell upon the assembly as his tall form appeared 
 upon the platform. He stood for a moment before beginning 
 to speak, visibly impressed by the significance of the occasion. 
 The spell of the hour was upon him. The old Whig party had 
 ignored the question of slavery, and put bonds of silence upon 
 the lips of its speakers. Now he was free, free to speak as he 
 wished, and the smothered flame of his spirit leaped into his 
 face. His eyes blazed, and he seemed to grow taller as he thun- 
 dered : 
 
 "Let us use ballots, not bullets, against the weapons of 
 violence, which are those of kingcraft. . . . Kansas shall be 
 free. . . . We won't go out of the Union, and you shan't! 
 . . . The stars in their courses, aye, an invisible power, greater 
 than the puny efforts of men, will fight for us. . . . Our 
 moderation and forbearance will stand us in good stead when, 
 if ever, we must make an appeal to battle and to the God of 
 hosts." 
 
 Never had he spoken in so impassioned a manner, and the 
 fjudience was taken up and swept away. "Again and again, 
 during the progress of the delivery of the speech, they sprang 
 to their feet and upon the benches," 1 shouting and waving 
 their hats, completely electrified. 
 
 i Scripps. 
 
THE GATHERING STORM 287 
 
 He closed with a thrilling appeal to the people to join the 
 Republican standard, to 
 
 "Come as the winds come, when forests are rended; 
 Come as the waves come, when navies are stranded." 
 
 The effect was irresistible; the audience was stampeded. 
 When something like calm was restored the reporters began 
 to look at each other sheepishly. Not one of them had taken a 
 note. They had forgotten to report. 
 
 The Republican party was born. But if things had gone so 
 far that the North and the South were to be arrayed against 
 each other in two great political parties, it was evident that 
 the end was near. The shadow of the gathering storm was 
 creeping ominously over the land. 
 
 At the National Convention of the new party, which met at 
 Philadelphia, June 17th, John Charles Fremont, of California, 
 was nominated for President, and William L. Dayton, of New 
 Jersey, for Vice-President. As an indication of his growing 
 fame Lincoln received some votes for the Vice-Presidency. 
 
 In the meantime, on June 2nd, the Democrats had met at 
 Cincinnati, and had nominated James Buchanan, of Pennsyl- 
 vania, for President, and John C. Breckinridge, of Kentucky, 
 for Vice-President. Stephen A. Douglas was logically the can- 
 didate, but by one of those queer twists that so often deter- 
 mines the choice in political conventions, Buchanan was made 
 the nominee. 
 
 Lincoln was Presidential Elector for the Republicans in 
 Illinois, which involved a laborious canvass of speech-making 
 over the State. He spent the entire summer stumping the 
 State from one end to the other. During this campaign, while 
 
288 LINCOLN 
 
 he was speaking at Charleston, Coles County, a man in the 
 audience called out to him : 
 
 "Mr. Lincoln, is it true that you entered this State barefoot, 
 driving a yoke of oxen?" 
 
 Lincoln paused for an instant, as if at a loss whether to 
 take notice of a question so evidently malicious, and then said: 
 
 "Yes; and I presume that there are at least a dozen men in 
 the crowd, any one of whom is more respectable than my ques- 
 tioner, who can prove that I did; if it is needful to the case 
 in hand." 
 
 But the question seemed to inspire him, and he described 
 with glowing eloquence what free institutions had done for 
 him, and what they would do for any man, and showed how 
 slavery debased the white man, and asked if it were not natural 
 that he should hate it. 
 
 In September, in the midst of the campaign, he received 
 a most pathetic letter from Hannah Armstrong, begging him 
 to come to the aid of her son, Duff Armstrong, who was ac- 
 cused of killing a man. Hannah, it will be remembered, was 
 the wife of Jack Armstrong, the champion of the "Clary's 
 Grove Boys," with whom Lincoln had fought in his early days 
 at Salem. They had always been friends after that, and Lin- 
 coln had stayed at Jack's cabin sometimes for several weeks 
 at a time, and Hannah had performed many womanly services 
 for the impecunious young man. It was she who foxed a 
 couple of buckskins on his breeches to keep the briers from 
 tearing them while he was surveying. 
 
 Jack Armstrong had died in the early part of 1850, leaving 
 his wife to care for a large family. The farm was only a forty- 
 acre tract, and this she tended with the aid of her two boys. 
 Camp-meetings were held at this time all over the country, and 
 
THE GATHERING STORM 289 
 
 it was the custom of the rowdy element to attend. They would 
 pitch their headquarters as near the camp as the law would 
 allow, and with their kegs of whiskey, start up and make the 
 day and night hideous with their revelry. 
 
 Duff Armstrong had been among just such a crowd of row- 
 dies who had pitched their tent in a deep ravine just outside 
 the limits allowed by the law of a camp-meeting, being held on 
 Salt Creek. They carried things with a high hand, the climax 
 being reached on Sunday evening when the crowd began fight- 
 ing among themselves with fists, clubs, rocks, or anything else 
 they could find. In the melee a man named Medscar was killed; 
 struck down by a blow on the neck with a neck-yoke. Duff 
 Armstrong had been arrested, charged with the murder, and 
 thrown into prison. 
 
 Lincoln had never forgotten Hannah's kindness to him; 
 so now, after reading the letter of the almost distracted mother, 
 in which she offered to give him her forty acres as his fee, he 
 wrote immediately that he would come to the boy's aid. But, 
 in consideration of her kindness to him when he was a youth, 
 he would not charge her a cent. Lincoln never forgot a kind- 
 ness. He never forgot his friends, nor outgrew their friend- 
 ship. 
 
 Hannah lived fifteen miles south of Havana to which place 
 the accused youth had been taken. Lincoln found the feeling 
 in Mason County where the murder had been committed too 
 strong to permit of fair treatment, so his first act was to pro- 
 cure a change of venue to Beardstown. 
 
 When the trial came on, the case looked very hopeless to 
 all but Lincoln who had assured himself of the boy's innocence. 
 There was a large army of witnesses ; their evidence was all the 
 same : they all swore that they had seen Armstrong strike Med- 
 
290 LINCOLN 
 
 scar on the back of the neck with a neck-yoke at 10 o'clock 
 P. m., at a camp-meeting on a certain night in September, in 
 the year 1856. The witnesses all agreed on the hour, and when 
 asked how they saw it at that hour of the night, they all swore 
 that the moon was shining as bright as day. 
 
 Lincoln only asked each witness what time of night the mur- 
 der was committed and had them all say that the moon was 
 shining as bright as day. The trial was brought to a close. The 
 prosecutors thought they had a clear case, and did not make 
 much of a plea. Now came Lincoln's turn. He arose, and be- 
 gan to review the evidence in very slow and measured terms. 
 He called the witnesses by their given names; he pointed his 
 long bony finger at John and James and Bill and Jack and 
 Sam, and the rest of them, and said : 
 
 "These witnesses have all agreed in their evidence that they 
 saw the murder committed at ten o'clock p. m., and that the 
 moon was shining as bright as day." He paused a moment, and 
 then rising to his full height, he exclaimed: "These witnesses 
 have sworn falsely and I can prove it." 
 
 He then produced an almanac, in which it was shown that 
 the moon did not rise that night until 10: 30, which settled the 
 time. Then he went farther and showed that the murder was 
 committed in a deep ravine with a bluff east of it which was 
 fifty feet high; further, there was a thick growth of timber on 
 the bluff that was fifty feet higher, and that it would have been 
 twelve or one o'clock at night before the moon could have pos- 
 sibly thrown any light in the ravine. The mass of evidence 
 against the prisoner faded under this convincing argument, 
 and every one in the crowded court-room was certain that the 
 boy was not guilty. Lincoln concluded by making an appeal to 
 the Jury which melted every one to tears. The Jury were out 
 
THE GATHERING STORM 291 
 
 but half an hour, and when they returned their verdict was 
 "Not guilty." Hannah fainted in the arms of her son, who tried 
 stammeringly to thank Lincoln for what he had done. Lincoln 
 parted with the admonition: 
 
 "Take this as a warning, Duff, and keep out of bad com- 
 pany. Go home now, and be a good boy." 
 
 The campaign resulted in the election of Buchanan to the 
 Presidency. In Illinois the contest ended in a partial victory 
 for the Republicans, the candidate for governor on their ticket, 
 with some of the State officers, being elected. But this half 
 triumph was a cause for rejoicing among the members of the 
 new party. If they could do so much when they had just or- 
 ganized what might they not be able to accomplish at the next 
 election ? 
 
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR 
 
 A BATTLE OF GIANTS 
 
 While Lincoln still took charge of important cases in court, 
 and practiced his profession at intervals, his time for the 
 greater part was taken up with politics. Indeed, it could 
 scarcely be otherwise as the great crisis in national affairs 
 drew closer. 
 
 The eyes of the nation centred upon Kansas where the 
 struggle between the pro-slavery and the free State men was 
 still going on. It was the epitome of the great contest to come, 
 and men watched with anxious eyes its outcome. The pro- 
 slavery men had succeeded in electing a Legislature which as- 
 sembled at Lecompton where a State constitution was framed, 
 preparatory to asking admission into the Union. In this elec- 
 tion the free State men took no part, claiming that this Legis- 
 lature had no legal authority. There were but two thousand 
 votes cast at Lecompton while the legal voters numbered more 
 than ten thousand. These latter called a mass-meeting of the 
 actual settlers, elected delegates to a constitutional conven- 
 tion which assembled at Topeka, and framed a constitution 
 excluding slavery from the Territory. Both parties sent their 
 constitutions to Washington for the approval of Congress. 
 
 292 
 
A BATTLE OF GIANTS 293 
 
 Robert J. Walker, the Governor of Kansas, knowing that the 
 Lecompton constitution was fraudulent as an exposition of the 
 wishes of the people of Kansas, hastened also to Washington 
 to protest against its adoption, but before he could reach the 
 Capitol it had been approved by President Buchanan. The 
 free-State officers, acting under the Topeka constitution, were 
 declared guilty of treason, arrested, and lodged in jail; while 
 the Topeka Legislature was dispersed by the regular army of 
 the United States, acting under orders of the President. 
 
 A furor swept the North over the outrage, and agitation of 
 the slavery question was renewed with great vigor. Politicians 
 became known as Lecompton or anti-Lecompton as they fa- 
 vored or did not favor the adoption of the Lecompton con- 
 stitution. 
 
 At this time the Senatorial term of Stephen A. Douglas 
 was drawing to a close, and he wished to be re-elected. He was 
 a shrewd politician, keenly alive to the political revolution that 
 was taking place, and he saw that the injustice to which the 
 settlers of Kansas were subjected was driving many of his con- 
 stituents into the ranks of the Republican party. He realized 
 that, as the originator of the Kansas-Nebraska Bill which had 
 made this state of things possible, he would be held responsible. 
 Indeed, his seat was in actual danger. To be consistent he 
 ought to support the Lecompton constitution, but by so doing 
 he would place a weighty weapon in the hands of the Republi- 
 cans to wield against him. He was an astute politician, so he 
 stole the Republican thunder. Allying himself with the Re- 
 publican members in the Senate, he labored side by side with 
 them, in the session of 1857 and 18.58, against the adoption of 
 the Lecompton constitution. It is but just to say that, what- 
 ever his motive, he waged such a gallant fight that the Le- 
 
294 LINCOLN 
 
 compton constitution was not adopted, though by so acting he 
 incurred the enmity of the administration which was of his own 
 party. On the other hand, he gained the sympathy of the 
 Eastern Republicans to such an extent that they advised the 
 Republicans of Illinois to vote to return him to the Senate. 
 
 The Republicans of Illinois, however, felt that they knew 
 Mr. Douglas better than their Eastern friends, and refused 
 their advice. Douglas had already been endorsed by the Demo- 
 cratic convention, which had met the 21st of April, to suc- 
 ceed himself, and being against the Lecompton constitution 
 was the only tenet that he held in common with the Republi- 
 cans. Therefore, when the Republican convention met at 
 Springfield, June 16th, in 1858, the following resolution was 
 brought forward and adopted unanimously: 
 
 "The Honorable Abraham Lincoln is our first and only 
 choice for United States Senator, to fill the vacancy about to 
 be created by the expiration of Mr. Douglas's term of office." 
 
 So Lincoln and Douglas were again to be pitted against 
 each other. It seemed Destiny that these two men who had en- 
 tered the State about the same time, both penniless youths, 
 both self-made men, both achieving eminence by sheer force 
 of character and ability, should always be arrayed against each 
 other. The present time was to prove a crisis in the life of each. 
 
 Lincoln had known that he would be endorsed by his party 
 for the Senate, and had prepared his speech in acknowledg- 
 ment with unusual care. It had been decided that the address 
 should be delivered to the members of the convention at the 
 State House in the evening of the day on which he was en- 
 dorsed. On the night before the convention Lincoln invited a 
 dozen or so of his friends into the library of the State House to 
 
A BATTLE OF GIANTS 295 
 
 read his speech to them. The expression of their faces changed 
 to dismay as Lincoln read the opening paragraph: 
 
 "If we could first know where we are, and whither we are 
 tending, we could better judge what to do, and how to do it. 
 We are now far into the fifth year, since a policy was initiated 
 with the avowed object and confident promise of putting an 
 end to slavery agitation. Under the operation of that policy, 
 that agitatioii has not only not ceased, but has constantly aug- 
 mented. In my opinion, it will not cease, until a crisis has been 
 reached and passed. 'A house divided against itself cannot 
 stand.' I believe that this government cannot endure per- 
 manently half-slave and half-free. I do not expect the Union 
 to be dissolved — I do not expect the house to fall — but I do 
 expect, it will cease to be divided. It will become all one thing, 
 or all the other. Either the opponents of slavery will arrest the 
 further spread of it, and place it where the public mind shall 
 rest in the belief that it is in the course of ultimate extinction; 
 or its advocates shall push it forward, till it shall have become 
 alike lawful in all the States, old as well as new, — North as 
 well as South." 
 
 "That is true, Mr. Lincoln," spoke one of his friends as he 
 paused. "But it is not good policy to give utterance to such 
 sentiments." 
 
 "You give that speech," said another slowly, "and it will be 
 fatal to your hopes of the Senate." 
 
 "It may permanently destroy your political prospects," com- 
 mented a third. 
 
 "It is too bold," spoke a fourth. "It is almost an endorsement 
 of the old anti-slavery doctrine of disunion. It is not discreet to 
 give it now." 
 
296 LINCOLN 
 
 "But it is the truth," protested Lincoln. "It is the truth 
 and the nation is entitled to it. 'A house divided against itself 
 cannot stand.' That is an illustration that is familiar to every 
 one, and he who reads may run. The proposition has been true 
 for six thousand years. I will deliver it as it is written. I would 
 rather be defeated with these expressions in my speech held 
 up and discussed before the people than be victorious without 
 them. I shall deliver the speech as it is written." 
 
 And he did; with such telling effect that men were aroused 
 to deep consideration of the grave political issues confronting 
 the nation. 
 
 A short time after this Douglas came on from Washington 
 and opened his campaign by making a speech in Chicago, his 
 home city. He was accorded a magnificent reception which 
 gave him much gratification. In this speech he spoke of his 
 work against the Lecompton fraud, and claimed that the Re- 
 publicans who fought by his side, had endorsed his "Popular 
 Sovereignty" doctrine — the right of a people of a Territory to 
 form their own constitution. 
 
 He spoke of Lincoln at length, and of Lincoln's speech at 
 Springfield, taking from the opening paragraph of the speech 
 the words: 
 
 " 'A house divided against itself cannot stand.' I believe 
 that this government cannot permanently endure half-slave 
 and half-free. I do not expect the Union to be dissolved — I do 
 not expect the house to fall — but I do expect it will become all 
 one thing, or all the other." 
 
 "Mr. Lincoln," said Douglas, "advocates boldly and clearly 
 a war of the sections, a war of the North against the South, of 
 the free-States against the slave- States, a war of extermina- 
 tion to be continued relentlessly, until one or the other shall 
 
A BATTLE OF GIANTS 297 
 
 be subdued, and all the States shall either become free or shall 
 become slave States." 
 
 He then took up other paragraphs of the speech, comment- 
 ing upon them unfairly. He was a master in taking an op- 
 ponent's assertions and twisting them into inferences ridicu- 
 lous and monstrous, almost inverting the propositions. 
 
 Lincoln sat near him on the platform, and heard it all. He 
 bore the misrepresentation good-naturedly. During the ensu- 
 ing campaign he had much need of good nature for often he 
 was shamefully belied. But he bore all patiently, allowing no 
 word of remonstrance or complaint to escape his lips, bearing 
 himself with such dignity as to command the respect of all 
 who heard him. 
 
 At the close of Douglas's speech it was announced that Lin- 
 coln would reply to it on the following evening. The greeting 
 which he received was quite as enthusiastic as that which was 
 given Douglas on the previous evening. After a few intro- 
 ductory remarks Lincoln took up the points of his opponent's 
 speech and treated them fully. 
 
 "I am not in the first place unaware that this government 
 has endured eighty-two years, half-slave and half-free," he 
 said. "I believe — and that is what I meant to allude to — I be- 
 lieve that it has endured, because during all that time, until 
 the introduction of the Nebraska Bill, the public mind did 
 rest in the belief that slavery was in the course of ultimate ex- 
 tinction." . . . He then went on to state that he believed the 
 framers of the Constitution expected that, in the course of 
 time, slavery would become extinct; they had decreed that 
 slavery should not go into territory where it had not already 
 gone, and when he said that the opponents of slavery would 
 place the institution where the public mind would rest in the 
 
298 LINCOLN 
 
 expectation of its ultimate extinction, he only wanted to say 
 that they would place it where the fathers originally placed it. 
 
 "We were often — more than once at least — in the course of 
 Judge Douglas's speech last night, reminded that this govern- 
 ment was made for white men," said Lincoln. "That he believed 
 that it was made for white men. Well, that is putting it into 
 a shape that no one wants to deny it ; but the Judge then goes 
 into his passion for drawing inferences that are not war- 
 ranted. I protest, now and forever, against that counterfeit 
 logic which presumes that because I do not want a negro 
 woman for a slave, I do necessarily want her for a wife. My 
 understanding is that I need not have her for either, but, as 
 God has made us separate, we can leave one another alone, 
 and do one another much good thereby." 
 
 With this opening the contest for the United States Senator- 
 ship began. From Chicago Douglas went to Bloomington, and 
 thence to Springfield, devoting himself on both occasions to 
 Lincoln's previous speeches. And closely upon his heels fol- 
 lowed Lincoln, speaking from the same platform though not 
 to the same assemblages. If Douglas spoke in the afternoon, 
 Lincoln followed either on the evening of the same day or on 
 the afternoon of the next day. But this was unsatisfactory, and 
 the Republican leaders wanted closer work. They wanted the 
 people to have the privilege of hearing both candidates upon 
 the same occasion that they might judge for themselves as to 
 their respective merits. Douglas was arrogant, pompous, wrap- 
 ping himself in his Senatorial toga which had its effect upon 
 the masses. He had in truth done much for Illinois. During the 
 tenure of his many offices he had secured magnificent grants of 
 land which contributed to the development of the State; and 
 in return the State had showered many honors upon him. There 
 
A BATTLE OF GIANTS 299 
 
 was no need, however, for the superior airs he was assuming. 
 It was decided in Republican councils, therefore, that Lincoln 
 should challenge him to joint public debate. Accordingly, Lin- 
 coln dispatched a note to the Senator asking if it would be 
 agreeable to him for an arrangement to be made whereby they 
 might address the same audiences. 
 
 Douglas demurred at first, but his own followers, as well 
 as those of Lincoln, were eager for the contest ; so he at length 
 consented that arrangements should be made for seven joint 
 debates to be held in the Congressional districts where they had 
 not already spoken. After Lincoln had accepted this proposi- 
 tion Douglas designated the times and places where such de- 
 bates should be held. Each speaker was to alternate in open- 
 ing and closing discussions. Although Douglas had reserved 
 four opening and closings to Lincoln's three, the latter agreed 
 to the terms without quibbling; saying to those friends who 
 remonstrated : 
 
 "I am not wholly unselfish in consenting to it, for I suspect 
 that if it were understood that the Judge were entirely done, 
 the Democrats would leave and not hear me. But, by giving 
 him the close, I feel confident that they will stay for the fun 
 of hearing him skin me." 
 
 About three weeks intervened between the date of the agree- 
 ment for the joint debates and the first appointment, and both 
 candidates employed the time in independent campaigning. 
 Douglas travelled in great pomp. He had a special train with 
 bands of music aboard, and a brass cannon fastened to a flat- 
 car attached to the train, which announced his arrival at the 
 places where he was to speak. Douglas was a Judge, a 
 Senator, and a potential Presidential Candidate. It seemed 
 proper to the people that the goings and comings of so great 
 
300 LINCOLN 
 
 a man should be accompanied by blare of brass bands and 
 smoke of gunpowder. 
 
 Lincoln, on the contrary, travelled simply, and as one of the 
 people. Sometimes Douglas would roll magnificently past 
 Lincoln sidetracked in an accommodation or freight train. 
 Once, as he thus waited for Douglas to go by, the brass bands 
 blaring, he convulsed the friends who were with him by taking 
 a French Harp * from his pocket, and playing Yankee Doodle. 
 
 "I reckon we can have some music of our own," he com- 
 mented dryly. 
 
 Lincoln did not underrate the severity of the contest in 
 which he was about to engage, but he believed that he was right 
 in his views, and to believe thoroughly in one's cause is to make 
 a man almost invincible. Certain of his friends, however, were 
 genuinely frightened. Of course they remembered that he had 
 made good replies to Douglas on several occasions, but they 
 were troubled, and doubted that he could stand up against so 
 great a man hour after hour on the same platform. Judge 
 Douglas was ranked as one of the greatest debaters in the 
 country, and for Lincoln to try to face him for seven debates 
 — No wonder they were anxious. 
 
 The first meeting at Ottawa showed the Republican leaders 
 that they had been wise in forcing a joint debate upon Doug- 
 las, for now the two candidates were on an equal footing. 
 Both spoke as the representatives of two equally great parties 
 from the same platform. Bands and processions, bunting and 
 banners, cheers and applause balanced applause and cheers, 
 banners and bunting, processions and bands. While Douglas 
 was escorted to the place of meeting in a coach drawn by six 
 white horses, Lincoln was conveyed thither, with a canny re- 
 
 i Now called a mouth organ. 
 
A BATTLE OF GIANTS 301 
 
 gard for democracy, in a Conestoga wagon drawn by six 
 black steeds. 
 
 A vast assemblage, comprised of the Republican and Demo- 
 cratic voters of the neighboring counties, awaited the two dis- 
 putants. It was astonishing how deep an interest in politics the 
 people took ; an interest that never waned all through the won- 
 derful discussions that followed. Over long, weary miles of 
 dusty prairie they came — on foot, on horseback, in wagons 
 drawn by horses or by mules, eager and attentive partisans, 
 welcoming the opportunity to hear the principles of govern- 
 ment set forth. There had never been such debates. 
 
 At this meeting Douglas, who had the opening, commented 
 on Lincoln's "House divided against itself" speech, and as 
 usual slid into talk about the inferiority of the negro. "I do not 
 question," said he, "Mr. Lincoln's conscientious belief that the 
 negro was made his equal, and, hence, his brother ; but for my 
 own part, I do not regard the negro as my equal, and positively 
 deny that he is my brother, or any kin to me whatever. I care 
 more for the principles of just government, or the right of 
 the people to rule, than I do for all the negroes in Christen- 
 dom." 
 
 He then charged Lincoln with betraying the Whigs into the 
 hands of the Abolitionists, and closed by putting seven ques- 
 tions to him concerning his creed. 
 
 In replying to Douglas, Lincoln simply denied the charges 
 made against him, and stated his exact position on the subject 
 of slavery. He acknowledged how difficult it was to get rid of 
 it. "But," said he, "the law which forbids the bringing of a 
 slave from Africa, and that which has long forbidden the tak- 
 ing of them to Nebraska, can hardly be distinguished on any 
 moral principles." 
 
302 LINCOLN 
 
 At the close of the half hour which Douglas employed in his 
 reply to Lincoln, the latter was literally borne away upon the 
 shoulders of his friends in a frenzy of enthusiasm. 
 
 And so began the great debates of 1858. Debates that at- 
 tracted the attention of the entire nation. It was a memorable 
 canvass, but in all their windings the debates centred about 
 the extension of slavery, and the effect the Dred Scott Deci- 
 sion would have upon it. Issues that were national. 
 
 Douglas contended that it was a matter that should be left 
 to the people of a territory. It was nothing to him whether it 
 was "voted up, or voted down." And yet he upheld the Dred 
 Scott Decision which was paradoxical. 
 
 Just the year before, 1857, Chief- Justice Taney, of the Su- 
 preme Court of the United States, had declared that under the 
 Constitution slaves were property, — and as such every Ameri- 
 can citizen owning slaves could carry them about with him 
 wherever he went. That therefore slavery existed in all the 
 territories, and that Congress had no right to prohibit it. "A 
 decision that set the South wild with joy, and cast a gloom over 
 the North." Therefore, the Legislatures of Territories might 
 pass all the laws they chose, yet their settlers might bring with 
 them all the slaves they pleased. 
 
 Lincoln, on the contrary, placed himself squarely on the Dec- 
 laration of Independence that all men are created equal, and 
 are by Heaven endowed with certain inalienable rights, such 
 as life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. He recognized 
 the negro as a man, coming under the broad sweep of the Dec- 
 laration. He believed in popular sovereignty, under the Con- 
 stitution, but he believed that the Dred Scott Decision was a 
 direct denial of it. 
 
The Debate Between Lincoln and Douglas 
 
A BATTLE OF GIANTS 303 
 
 The debates ranged about these issues, and both North and 
 South watched their progress closely. 
 
 At Ottawa Lincoln had supposed that his mere denial of the 
 charges made by Douglas was all that was necessary, but in his 
 closing remarks Douglas had taken the ground that Lin- 
 coln had not replied to his questions specifically because he was 
 afraid to do so. In preparing for the second debate at Free- 
 port, which was to take place six days later, Lincoln carefully 
 enumerated the seven questions that Douglas had asked, and 
 replied to them fully. In addition, he turned questioner, and 
 asked Judge Douglas some questions. Ah ! Douglas little knew 
 the skill with which his antagonist would use the weapon he 
 had put into his hands. 
 
 Lincoln consulted with his friends concerning the four ques- 
 tions he was going to ask, and they objected to them. 
 
 "It will not matter if you put the first, third, and fourth 
 questions," they declared; "but don't put the second." 
 
 But Lincoln, believing that the principle point for debate 
 was Douglas's doctrine of popular sovereignty, in connection 
 with the Dred Scott Decision, — the two things in his opinion 
 being in direct antagonism, — wished to obtain a public declara- 
 tion of his stand in the matter. 
 
 The night before the debate was to take place his friends 
 came to his room at the hotel in the little railroad centre of 
 Mendota, where Lincoln was catching a few hours' rest, to 
 consider the ominous question once more. All their advice was 
 against putting the interrogatory to Douglas, but he persisted 
 in his determination to do so. 
 
 "But see here, Lincoln, if you put that question to him," 
 cried his friend Mr. Judd, "he will perceive that an answer, 
 
304 LINCOLN 
 
 giving practical force and effect to the Dred Scott Decision in 
 the territories, inevitably loses him the battle ; and he will there- 
 fore reply by offering the decision as an abstract principle, but 
 denying its practical application." 
 
 "But if he does that, he can never be President," replied Lin- 
 coln. 
 
 "That is not your lookout," responded his friends. "You are 
 after the Senatorship." 
 
 "Gentlemen," said Lincoln, "I am killing larger game. The 
 battle of 1860 is worth a hundred of this." 
 
 Bands were playing the next morning as they drew into 
 Freeport. Line upon line of men, women, and children, cheer- 
 ing and waving, pressed about Lincoln at the station, and fell 
 into the procession which escorted him to the hotel where the 
 candidates were supposed to rest before the afternoon discus- 
 sion, but in reality where they passed the time in greeting the 
 incoming delegations. 
 
 A great crowd filled the town, and swarmed the grove where 
 the discussion was to take place — a vast outpouring of people 
 from the neighboring regions. The air was full of noise and 
 excitement. Drums throbbed, and fifes shrilled their thin pip- 
 ings. There were delegations on horseback, delegations on foot, 
 and delegations in wagons ; and each and every delegation was 
 gaily bedecked with bunting, and carried banners. A wagon 
 in which sat thirty-two girls, dressed in white, to represent the 
 thirty-two States, wearing red sashes and blue caps wreathed 
 in green and bearing a single white star, paraded the streets, 
 their great banner reading: 
 
 "Westward the star of Empire takes its way. 
 The girls link on to Lincoln; their mothers were for Clay." 
 
A BATTLE OF GIANTS 305 
 
 Douglas had his banners and bunting too. The neighbor- 
 hood of Freeport was a stronghold of Northern Democrats, 
 who were ardent supporters of the Little Giant. So the town 
 exhibited a gala appearance. 
 
 But the noise and excitement quieted almost magically as 
 the two disputants appeared on the rude wooden platform in 
 the grove. A stillness like that of the forest settled over the 
 great concourse of people, as the speaking began. A stillness 
 disturbed only by the sweep of the prairie wind in the treetops, 
 and the twitter of feathered songsters. 
 
 Lincoln had the opening speech this day, and he began by 
 answering Judge Douglas's questions which the latter had 
 asked him at Ottawa. He was ever a man transformed when he 
 began to speak, and the present occasion was no exception. His 
 tall form straightened; his gray eyes flashed, and his counte- 
 nance was transfigured with the inner light of inspiration. His 
 voice, shrill at first, mellowed into clear ringing tones which 
 played upon the heartstrings of those who listened, like a musi- 
 cian upon an instrument. 
 
 After he had given his answer to those queries which had 
 been asked him, he proposed his four in return, the second of 
 which was the fateful question: 
 
 "Can the people of a United States Territory, in any law- 
 ful way, against the wish of any citizen in the United States, 
 exclude slavery from its limits, prior to the formation of a State 
 Constitution?" 
 
 Stephen A. Douglas, astute politician though he was, failed 
 to see that he was caught. Whichever way he answered that 
 question he would inevitably lose the support of the North or 
 the South. He was after the Senatorship, and he did not look 
 beyond the moment. He did not seem at all disturbed as he 
 
306 LINCOLN 
 
 stepped to the front of the platform and began to speak. Skil- 
 fully he disposed of the first question, and then, as the silence 
 of the people vibrated with tense feeling, he took up the second. 
 He said : 
 
 "It matters not what way the Supreme Court may hereafter 
 decide, as to the abstract question whether slavery may or may 
 not go into a Territory under the Constitution, the people have 
 the lawful means to introduce it, or exclude it as they please, 
 for the reason that slavery cannot exist a day, or an hour, any- 
 where, unless it is supported by police regulations. These po- 
 lice regulations can only be established by the local legisla- 
 ture; and if the people are opposed to slavery, they will elect 
 representatives to that body who will, by unfriendly legislation, 
 effectually prevent the introduction of it into their midst." 
 
 The answer was the turn of the tide in his political fortunes. 
 Designed to please Illinois Democrats it offended the South, 
 and made his support by it in 1860 an utter impossibility. He 
 had uttered what was thereafter called the Freeport Heresy 
 which was taken up and commented upon by the newspapers 
 all over the Union. 
 
 As the debates progressed it became evident not only to the 
 people of the State, but to the nation at large, that while Doug- 
 las was actuated solely by the desire to win the Senatorship, 
 Lincoln was endeavoring to lead public opinion to loftier and 
 nobler conceptions of political duty. 
 
 And now, when the minds of the people were attuned to re- 
 ceive grave impressions, there appeared in the northern sky a 
 celestial visitor; a comet that filled all hearts with awe not un- 
 mixed with dread. Was it a harbinger of war, a portent of 
 struggle to come? And nightly men turned thoughtful glances 
 toward the sky where the mysterious traveller hung suspended 
 
A BATTLE OF GIANTS 307 
 
 in space, its flaming tail extended towards the zenith like the 
 avenging sword of an angel. The nation was sick; would it have 
 to answer with blood for its sins? And people asked themselves 
 these questions more often as the great debates went on. And 
 the voice of Lincoln penetrated every nook and corner of the 
 State, like the voice of a prophet of old : 
 
 "This mighty issue is the eternal struggle between right and 
 wrong. They are the two principles that have stood face to 
 face since the beginning of time; and will ever continue to 
 struggle. The one is the common right of humanity, and the 
 other the divine right of kings. It is the same principle in what- 
 ever shape it develops itself. It is the same spirit that says, 
 'You work and toil and earn bread, while I eat it.' No matter 
 in what form it comes, whether from the mouth of a king who 
 seeks to bestride the people of his own nation and live by the 
 fruit of their labor, or from one race of men as an apology for 
 enslaving another race, it is the same tyrannical principle. 
 
 "In this mighty issue upon which, perhaps, hangs the des- 
 tinies of the nation, the United States Senatorship is absolutely 
 nothing. I charge you to drop every paltry and insignificant 
 thought for any man's success. It is nothing; I am nothing; 
 Judge Douglas is nothing. But do not destroy that immortal 
 emblem of humanity — the Declaration of Independence." 
 
 For a period of nearly one hundred days Douglas and Lin- 
 coln travelled in the heat and dust of midsummer, addressing 
 the people. Frequently journeys by night were necessary, and 
 often they made two and sometimes even three speeches in a 
 single day. But at length the days of excitement, of intense 
 mental strain, of arduous physical exertion came to an end. 
 The United States Senatorship went to Douglas. Lincoln 
 polled a majority of the popular vote, but in the counting by 
 
308 LINCOLN 
 
 districts in the Legislature Douglas was victor. The people at 
 large, however, felt that Lincoln was the moral victor, and he 
 had made for himself a name that should endure as "long 
 as men love liberty and regard justice." 
 
 A friend asked him how he felt when the returns came in 
 that insured his defeat; he replied: 
 
 "Why, I reckon about like a stripling does when he stubs 
 his toe — too badly to laugh, and too big to cry." 
 
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE 
 
 THE MAN FROM ILLINOIS 
 
 Byron awoke one morning and found himself famous. To 
 his surprise Abraham Lincoln discovered that, in spite of the 
 fact that he had been defeated for the Senatorship, he had be- 
 come a national figure. Letters filled with commendation 
 poured in upon him, not alone from personal friends, but from 
 all over the country. There were also numerous invitations 
 from all quarters of the North asking him to assist in the battle 
 being fought in each State. And not only was his presence 
 desired, but his counsels were sought for all manner of prob- 
 lems. The debates had made him the leader of his party in the 
 West. 
 
 In fact, throughout the West his name was a household 
 word. He was one of the people, their friend, the champion of 
 freedom and free labor, the man who had beaten the "Little 
 Giant" in the popular vote of the Democratic State of Illinois. 
 His peculiarities, his quaint sayings, his stories, were passed 
 from house to house as though he were a member of every 
 man's family. 
 
 "You have made a noble canvass, which, if unavailing in this 
 State, has earned you a national reputation and made you 
 friends everywhere," wrote his friend Mr. Judd of Chicago. 
 
 309 
 
310 LINCOLN 
 
 And it seemed as though all those friends, East as well as 
 West, wanted to know him personally. There had never been a 
 local canvass since the formation of the government which so 
 attracted the attention of politicians of other States as this. 
 But it was a thorough presentation of the issues upon which the 
 next national battle was to be fought, and no two men in the 
 nation better understood the real nature of the struggle be- 
 tween the North and the South than Lincoln and Douglas. 
 
 Lincoln knew that the fight was not ended, and that even 
 though he fought in the ranks, he must go on with it. For the 
 present, however, he wished to rest, and to straighten out his 
 professional business which had necessarily suffered during his 
 absorption in politics. So during the Winter of 1858-9 he de- 
 voted himself to his own private affairs. 
 
 As has been said, it had been an arduous campaign, and, 
 while Lincoln was weary, he emerged from it with no visible 
 mark of fatigue upon him. Douglas, on the other hand, was 
 greatly exhausted. His voice was almost gone, and he scarcely 
 spoke above a whisper. But he too had an iron constitution, and 
 was soon himself again. Then he started on a brief tour of the 
 South, making speeches as he travelled. He realized that he 
 had lost ground by his anti-Lecomptonism, and especially by 
 his Freeport doctrine, and he wished to regain his prestige. 
 
 So, while Douglas was virtually continuing the debate by 
 constantly referring to Lincoln and to Lincoln's speeches, Lin- 
 coln himself had patiently taken up the dull commonplace of 
 daily routine. If he felt the sting of defeat he did not show it. 
 He was never so full of his own disappointments that he had 
 not time for comfort and cheer and consolation for others. 
 Even the griefs of childhood claimed his sympathy at all times. 
 Men loved him for this. 
 
THE MAN FROM ILLINOIS 311 
 
 Often in his legal capacity he found occasion to act the part 
 of comforter. Such an incident occurred during the summer. 
 
 "Greene," said Lincoln one day to Gilbert J. Greene, a 
 young printer living in Springfield at the time, "I've got to 
 ride out into the country tomorrow to draw a will for a woman 
 who is believed to be on her deathbed. I may want you as a 
 witness. If you haven't anything else to do I'd like to have you 
 go along/' 
 
 "I'll be glad to go, Mr. Lincoln," answered the young fellow 
 greatly pleased. 
 
 On the way to the farmhouse the lawyer and the printer 
 chatted delightfully, cementing a friendship that was fast 
 ripening into real affection. They soon reached the farmhouse 
 and found the woman to be near her end. With great gentle- 
 ness Lincoln drew up the document disposing of the property 
 as she desired. Neighbors and relatives were present making 
 it unnecessary to call on Greene to witness the instrument. 
 After the will was signed the woman turned to Lincoln and 
 said, with a smile: 
 
 "Now I have my affairs of this world arranged satisfac- 
 torily. I am thankful to say that long before this I made prep- 
 arations for the other life I am about to enter. I do not fear 
 death, Mr. Lincoln. I am really glad that my time has come." 
 
 Lincoln, evincing sympathy in every look and gesture, bent 
 towards her and said: "Your faith in Christ is wise and strong; 
 your hope of a future life is blessed. You are to be congratu- 
 lated in passing through life so usefully, and into the life be- 
 yond so hopefully." 
 
 "Mr. Lincoln," said she, "won't you read a few verses out of 
 the Bible for me?" 
 
 A member of the family offered him the Family Bible. In- 
 
312 LINCOLN 
 
 stead of taking it, Lincoln began reciting from memory the 
 Twenty-third Psalm, laying emphasis upon — " 'Though I 
 walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no 
 evil, for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff they com- 
 fort me.' " 
 
 Still without referring to the Bible he began with the four- 
 teenth chapter of John: " 'Let not your heart be troubled; ye 
 believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father's house are 
 many mansions; if it were not so I would have told you. I go 
 to prepare a place for you.' " And so on, through all that 
 wonderful chapter. 
 
 And as he continued to give other quotations from the Scrip- 
 tures those about the bedside wondered where he had learned 
 so many of them. Where? Ah! where but back in the hills of 
 Kentucky where his mother recited these passages as she went 
 about her work. Thought of her now crowded into Lincoln's 
 mind, and with a tenderness and pathos that enthralled every 
 one in the room he recited the last stanza of the hymn, "Rock 
 of Ages": 
 
 " 'While I draw this fleeting breath, 
 When mine eyes shall close in death, 
 When I rise to worlds unknown, 
 See Thee on Thy judgment throne, 
 Rock of ages, cleft for me, 
 Let me hide myself in Thee.' " 
 
 While he was reciting this stanza a look of peace lighted up 
 the countenance of the dying woman, and quietly she passed 
 away. 
 
 The journey back to Springfield was begun in silence. It 
 was the younger man who finally said: 
 
THE MAN FROM ILLINOIS 313 
 
 "Mr. Lincoln, ever since what has just happened back there 
 in the farmhouse, I have been thinking that it is very extraor- 
 dinary that you should so perfectly have acted as pastor as 
 well as attorney." 
 
 For a long time Lincoln did not speak; finally he said: "God, 
 Eternity, and Heaven were very near me today." 1 
 
 But Lincoln was not left long to pursue the peaceful practice 
 of his profession. There was an excited condition in public af- 
 fairs that made many demands upon him. The political pot 
 was bubbling, and naturally he was drawn into it. In May, 
 1859, he was appealed to by Dr. Theodore Canisius, a Ger- 
 man citizen of Illinois, to say, as a possible candidate for the 
 Presidency, what were his views concerning the attempts made 
 in some States to curtail the political privileges of naturalized 
 foreigners. One such attempt had recently been made in Mas- 
 sachusetts. Lincoln, while declining to criticise Massachusetts, 
 said that he should be sorry to see any such proposition brought 
 up in Illinois, and he would oppose it whenever he had the right 
 to do so. 
 
 There were numerous queries addressed to him to obtain his 
 views upon matters of various kinds, and to them all he re- 
 turned full and seemingly satisfactory answers. In September 
 he was called to Ohio to answer Douglas who had been invited 
 thither by the Democrats of the State to help in the canvass for 
 Governor. Lincoln made two speeches, one at Columbus and 
 another at Cincinnati; speeches that were considered among 
 the best efforts of his life. The Republicans of the State won 
 a decided victory at the polls in October, and ascribed the suc- 
 cess in a large measure to Lincoln's speeches. Thereupon the 
 State Executive Committee resolved to publish in cheap book 
 
 i Charles T. White . . . "Lincoln the Comforter." 
 
314 LINCOLN 
 
 form the full Illinois Joint Debates and the two Ohio Ad- 
 dresses to serve as campaign material for the ensuing year. 
 The enterprise proved successful beyond the most sanguine ex- 
 pectations. 
 
 A little later the whole country was thrown into a blaze of 
 excitement by the raid of John Brown, of Osawatomie, Kan- 
 sas, against the United States Arsenal at Harper's Ferry, in 
 Virginia. He was a fanatic who had conceived the idea that the 
 liberation of the slaves could be effected by arming them and 
 inciting them into rebellion against their masters. To obtain 
 the desired arms he marched, with twenty men, against the 
 well-stocked arsenal, seized it, but could not effect the desired 
 uprising. He was captured, and his execution followed as a 
 logical consequence. It was the act of a madman, but one can- 
 not but admire the sincerity of the grim old man who was will- 
 ing to risk all for the sake of a cause he believed to be just. 
 More and more as time went on he became recognized as a 
 martyr to the cause of human liberty. 
 
 The South blazed with wrath, the North fermented with 
 excitement. It was a dramatic climax to a series of political 
 sensations that had been ushered upon the country by the re- 
 peal of the Missouri Compromise. Closer and closer the crisis 
 was approaching. 
 
 In the midst of the excitement Lincoln was asked to visit 
 Kansas, and accepted. He was received by the people of the 
 State with the honor due to one who had done battle for free- 
 dom. As he was returning home from this trip, one day a man 
 of forbidding countenance met him, gazed at him fixedly for 
 a moment, then whipped out a revolver, and thrust it almost in 
 Lincoln's face. 
 
THE MAN FROM ILLINOIS 315 
 
 He did not seem excited, and there was no rancor in his 
 manner. Lincoln was puzzled. 
 
 "Just what seems to be the matter?" he queried mildly. 
 
 "Sir," answered the stranger still regarding him intently, 
 "some years ago I swore that if ever I ran across an uglier 
 man than I was, I would shoot him on the spot. You are he." 
 
 "Shooc," replied Lincoln, "for if I am an uglier man than 
 you are, I don't want to live." 
 
 In October Lincoln received an invitation from the Re- 
 publican Union Club of New York City desiring him to deliver 
 a political lecture during the ensuing month. But his affairs 
 were such that he could not go until February. If that time 
 would suit them, he wrote, he would be pleased to give it then. 
 The time was satisfactory, and arrangements were made for 
 the lecture to take place on the Twenty-seventh of that month. 
 It was first announced that the address would be delivered 
 in Plymouth Church, Brooklyn, of which Henry Ward 
 Beecher was pastor, but later the place was changed to Cooper 
 Institute, New York City. Lincoln, however, did not learn 
 of the change until after he had reached New York. During 
 the fall and winter he was occupied for the greater part of 
 his spare time in preparing this speech. 
 
 In the middle of this winter of 1859-60, the leaders of the 
 Republican party of Illinois met in Springfield, and requested 
 Lincoln to let them present his name to the national convention 
 as a Presidential Candidate. They wished this done more with 
 the idea of securing his nomination as Vice-President than with 
 any expectation that he would secure the nomination. Lincoln 
 consented to this, but built no hopes whatever on national 
 preferment. He did believe, however, that such mention would 
 
316 LINCOLN 
 
 help him in the contest for the United States Senatorship 
 which he intended to make again as soon as Douglas's term 
 should expire. 
 
 He left Springfield for New York in the latter part of 
 February, arriving in the latter city on the Twenty-fifth of that 
 month. It was Saturday afternoon, and as his arrival was per- 
 sonally unheralded he went at once to the Astor House from 
 which place he proceeded to the office of Henry C. Bowen, 
 editor of "The Independent." Mr. Bowen was a prominent 
 member of Plymouth Church in Brooklyn, and had taken the 
 leading part in organizing and promoting the invitation that 
 induced Lincoln to come to New York to speak. 
 
 Lincoln knocked on the door of the office, and when a 
 voice bade him enter, he opened the door and went in. A man 
 sat at a desk so absorbed in his work that he did not turn 
 around at his entrance. Lincoln stood waiting some little time, 
 then spoke: 
 
 "Is this Mr. Henry C. Bowen?' 1 
 
 "Yes," answered the man shortly, still not turning around. 
 
 "I am Abraham Lincoln," announced Lincoln quietly. 
 
 The editor whirled quickly, sprang up, and came towards 
 him, but his expression of welcome changed to one of dismay at 
 sight of his visitor. Lincoln was tall, ungainly, his clothes were 
 badly wrinkled, travel-stained, and he looked tired and woe- 
 begone. Various expressions flitted over the editor's face as 
 he uttered some commonplace words of greeting. He was evi- 
 dently dismayed, and was wondering if this awkward, illy- 
 dressed man could be the man who had worsted the "Little 
 Giant" in debate. Lincoln noted his surprise and spoke with 
 gentleness and dignity: 
 
 "Mr. Bowen, I am just in from Springfield, Illinois, and I 
 
THE MAN FROM ILLINOIS 317 
 
 am very tired. If you have no objection, I will lie down on 
 your lounge here, and you can tell me about the arrangements 
 for Monday night." 
 
 Mr. Bowen hastily arranged the couch. Lincoln's manner- 
 was fast dispelling his first feeling of disappointment. Lincoln 
 led in the subjects of conversation that followed, and pres- 
 ently his powerful and winning personality made itself felt. 
 The editor began to exult in the prospect of the triumph when 
 Lincoln should greet his audience. He was not the first, nor 
 yet the last, whose first impression of Lincoln was changed 
 after a few moments' conversation. Before they separated Lin- 
 coln had accepted his invitation to attend services at Plymouth 
 Church with him next morning. 
 
 On Monday he was taken for a drive about the city, visiting 
 some of the more important streets and places of interest. He 
 met with George Bancroft, the historian, and other men of 
 note. But Lincoln felt sad, and oppressed by a sense of his 
 own insignificance. An oppression that had not left him when 
 he entered the great hall of Cooper Union that evening, and 
 found a large audience awaiting him. An immense audience, for 
 New York people were curious concerning him. 
 
 David Dudley Field escorted him to the platform which was 
 crowded with the Republican leaders of New York and Brook- 
 lyn. William Cullen Bryant presided, and in introducing Lin- 
 coln said: 
 
 "It is a grateful office that I perform, in introducing to you 
 an eminent citizen of the West, hitherto known only to you by 
 reputation." 
 
 It was a pleasing introduction, but Lincoln was more pleased 
 when Mr. Bryant, in the "Evening Post" — of which he was 
 editor — said in next day's issue: "For the publication of such 
 
318 LINCOLN 
 
 words of weight and wisdom as those of Mr. Lincoln, the pages 
 of this journal are indefinitely elastic." 
 
 Lincoln had never been so embarrassed in his life as when he 
 rose to face this most critical audience of his career. In Illinois 
 the people knew and understood him. His style of speech and 
 mode of reasoning were his own ; and he had misgivings touch- 
 ing their reception among those whose ideas of oratory were 
 derived from other models. He began his address in low, mo- 
 notonous tones, but gaining confidence as he spoke, his voice, 
 that had long been accustomed to out-of-door efforts, rose in 
 strength and gained in clearness, until every one in the great 
 hall heard every word. His manner of speech was so fresh, 
 earnest and sincere, his mode of statement was so clear and 
 simple, every point he assumed was so fair, every conclusion 
 so forcible, and above all his illustrations were so quaint, the 
 listening people followed him with delight. 
 
 As the subject of his discourse he took the words of Senator 
 Douglas, uttered in a speech at Columbus, Ohio, the previous 
 Autumn: "Our Fathers when they framed the government 
 under which we live, understood this question of slavery just as 
 well, and even better, than we do now." 
 
 To this statement Lincoln agreed, and then went on to in- 
 quire what the fathers who framed the government thought and 
 did about slavery. "It was a masterly exposition of the early 
 days of the Republic when the political institutions of the na- 
 tion were in process of formation." 
 
 Lincoln next took up the topic that was in every one's 
 thoughts — that of the strained relations of the North and the 
 South, addressing words of kindly admonition to the South. 
 The concluding section was directed especially to Republicans, 
 and he closed with these words : 
 
THE MAN FROM ILLINOIS 319 
 
 "Neither let us be slandered from our duty by false accusa- 
 tions against us, nor frightened from it by menaces of de- 
 struction to the government. Let us have faith that right makes 
 might, and in that faith, let us, to the end, dare to do our duty 
 as we understand it." 
 
 During the delivery of the speech the vast auditorium was so 
 still thai the sizzling of the gas jets could be heard, save when 
 some telling point was made so forcibly that the people burst 
 into thunders of applause. The man from Illinois had con- 
 quered New York. The rural lawyer had become a lion. 
 
 The speech was one of the most remarkable ever delivered 
 in the city of New York, and its full text was printed in the 
 next day's newspapers. Later it received wide circulation as 
 a campaign document from the rooms of the Republican Com- 
 mittee. "Critics who read the speech marveled at its pure and 
 compact English, its felicity of statement and its faultless 
 logic." It was read not only by New York but by nearly all 
 New England as well. 
 
 In consequence, Lincoln received many invitations to speak 
 on political matters in New England. He accepted a few of 
 these. His speaking was always to immense audiences. 
 
 When speaking at New Haven, a professor of rhetoric in 
 Yale College, who had come to hear him, was so impressed by 
 the speech and its manner of delivery that he made notes of the 
 address, and the next day gave a lecture on it to his class. Not 
 satisfied with that he followed Lincoln to Meriden the next 
 evening, and heard him again, presenting his notes to his class 
 the next day as a model. To Lincoln, with the modest estimate 
 he put on himself and his attainments, this was the most ex- 
 traordinary happening of his success in the East. He had been 
 astonished by the reception accorded his speeches in New York 
 
320 LINCOLN 
 
 and New England, but he was more than amazed that he should 
 produce such an impression upon literary and learned men. 
 His oldest son, Robert Todd Lincoln, was now at Harvard 
 College, and after paying him a short visit, Lincoln turned 
 his face homeward, much gratified by his enthusiastic recep- 
 tion. 
 
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX 
 
 OLD ABRAM IS THE MAN 
 
 The National Conventions were held early this Presidential 
 year of 1860, perhaps because everybody felt that a severe po- 
 litical storm was brewing though few knew what its character 
 would be. Lincoln had scarcely returned home before the first 
 of the National Conventions was held. This was the Demo- 
 cratic Convention which met at Charleston, South Carolina, 
 April 23rd, to nominate a candidate for the Presidency. 
 
 As the Northern Democrats would consider no one but 
 Stephen A. Douglas, and the South, though once it had loved 
 Douglas now would have none of him, there was a stormy ses- 
 sion which resulted in a party split. Each faction, after various 
 meetings and delays, chose its own candidate, Douglas being 
 the candidate of the Northern section; John C. Breckinridge, 
 of Kentucky, being that of the Southern faction. 
 
 On May 10th, the Republican State Convention of Illinois 
 met at Decatur, Macon County. As a matter of course Lin- 
 coln attended; and when his tall form appeared on the plat- 
 form, the delegates rose as one man and cheered again and 
 again, giving him the greatest ovation he had ever received. He 
 was a little surprised at so demonstrative a reception, and won- 
 
 321 
 
322 LINCOLN 
 
 dered no little thereat. The mystery was soon solved. As soon 
 as the balloting for candidates for State Officers was finished, 
 Governor Oglesby, who presided, rose and said: 
 
 "Gentlemen, there is at the door an old-time Macon County 
 Democrat who has a contribution to make to this Convention. 
 What is your pleasure concerning him? Shall he be admitted?" 
 
 It was moved, seconded, and carried that the gentleman 
 should be received, and, amid great enthusiasm, John Hanks 
 with a neighbor marched into the hall bearing on their shoul- 
 ders two old fence rails, gaily bedecked with red, white, and 
 blue ribbons, and carrying the inscription : 
 
 "Abraham Lincoln, the Rail Candidate for the Presidency. 
 Two rails from a lot of three thousand, made in 1830, by John 
 Hanks and Abe Lincoln — whose father was the first pioneer 
 of Macon County." 
 
 The audience almost went wild in its enthusiasm, while Lin- 
 coln was taken completely by surprise. He knew that his name 
 was to be presented to the Convention to be endorsed as the 
 choice of Illinois for the Presidency, but he did not know that 
 it was to be brought forward in this manner. However, he was 
 gratified by the enthusiastic reception, and when the cheering 
 ceased, and he was called upon to tell about the rails, he rose 
 and simply said : 
 
 "John Hanks and I did make some rails for my father's 
 farm in Macon County, in 1830. I wouldn't make my affidavit 
 that those are some of the veritable rails, but if there are any 
 of those rails left, I wouldn't wonder if these are two of them. 
 The fact is, I don't think they are a credit to the makers. But 
 I do know this: I made rails then, and I think I could make 
 better ones now." 
 
 Once more the hall rang with cheers and laughter, and amid 
 
"OLD ABRAM IS THE MAN" 323 
 
 intense excitement, Abraham Lincoln was named as the choice 
 of Illinois for the Presidency. And from that day forward he 
 was known as The Rail- Splitter Candidate. 
 
 By this time the straggling village of Chicago had become 
 a city of a hundred thousand people, and it was in recognition 
 of the growing power and importance of the great West that 
 the Convention was held there. An immense crowd, from all 
 parts of the country, filled every hotel and lodging house in 
 the city. As there was no public building large enough, a tem- 
 porary structure called "The Wigwam" had been erected for 
 the sessions of the Convention. Lincoln, as one upon whom 
 National preferment might be bestowed, remained at home, 
 but in constant telegraphic communication with his friends 
 there. Consequently, through this means and by the news- 
 papers, he knew everything that took place. Although he had 
 been increasingly mentioned as a Presidential candidate, he 
 did not hope for anything beyond the Vice-Presidency. His 
 friends were more sanguine. 
 
 The first day's session was devoted to organization and other 
 routine business. On the second day, a platform, affirming the 
 right of every man to freedom, was adopted with great en- 
 thusiasm. 
 
 On the third day, everybody was anxious to get down to the 
 balloting. A great throng gathered around the "Wigwam," 
 only a small portion of which could obtain admission. There 
 was some little preliminary business, and then the names of 
 candidates were announced. The ceremony was still in its sim- 
 plicity. 
 
 "I take the liberty," spoke Mr. Evarts of New York, "to 
 name as a candidate to be nominated by this Convention for the 
 office of President of the United States, William H. Seward." 
 
324 LINCOLN 
 
 "I desire," followed Mr. Judd of Illinois, "on behalf of the 
 delegation from Illinois to put in nomination as a candidate 
 for President of the United States Abraham Lincoln of Illi- 
 nois." 
 
 Then followed the usual complimentary nomination of fa- 
 vorite sons of the various States. Their names provoked salvos 
 of cheers from their respective delegations, but only the names 
 of Seward and Lincoln created much enthusiasm. At every 
 mention of these men the whole Wigwam responded vocifer- 
 ously. 
 
 The balloting began. Although this ballot was not expected 
 to be decisive, being the customary tribute of admiration to 
 the complimentary candidates, it was conducted with intense 
 excitement. The announcement of the result was received with 
 great applause. Seward, 17314; Lincoln, 102; the rest scatter- 
 ing. 
 
 On the second ballot Lincoln gained 79 votes, and received 
 181; while Seward, having gained 11, received 184 1 /->, all told. 
 The announcement of the votes given to Seward and Lincoln 
 was received with deafening cheers by their respective hench- 
 men. It was necessary to a choice that one candidate should 
 have two hundred and thirty-three of the four hundred and 
 sixty-five votes cast. 
 
 There was tense interest as the third ballot began. Delegates 
 and spectators alike kept tally as the roll call of the States 
 went on. Steadily the Lincoln figures mounted. Seward's men 
 trembled and turned pale with apprehension. Before the of- 
 ficial tellers footed their columns it was whispered among the 
 people, shivering with suppressed excitement, that Abraham 
 Lincoln had two hundred and thirty-one and a half votes; Sew- 
 
"OLD ABRAM IS THE MAN" 325 
 
 ard, one hundred and eighty. Only one and a half votes more 
 were necessary for a nomination. 
 
 The vast auditorium grew so still that the ticking of the 
 telegraphic instruments at the reporters' tables could be heard 
 distinctly. Changes were in order, and, "while every one leaned 
 forward in intense expectancy," Mr. Carter of Ohio sprang 
 upon his chair, and cried out that four of Ohio's votes were 
 changed from Chase to Lincoln. Abraham Lincoln was nomi- 
 nated. 
 
 There was a moment's pause — men sat unable to grasp what 
 had happened. A teller waved his tally-sheet toward a skylight 
 where a watchman stood waiting, and shouted: 
 
 "Fire the salute! Abe Lincoln is nominated!" 
 
 Realization swept the assembly. The impossible had hap- 
 pened. Abraham Lincoln, the rail-splitter, had beaten the re- 
 nowned William H. Seward. Pandemonium broke loose. The 
 moment's pause was broken by a roar that shook the building; 
 a roar that was answered by the surging masses outside. Men 
 shouted, and sang, and danced, and hugged each other in a de- 
 lirium of joy. Amid the wildest hurrahs delegation after 
 delegation changed its votes to the victor. 
 
 When the din had subsided so that he could be heard, Mr. 
 Evarts, of New York, rose and in a voice trembling with emo- 
 tion, spoke of his sorrow at the defeat of Mr. Seward, and 
 moved that the nomination of Lincoln be made unanimous. 
 This was done, and the Convention adjourned for dinner, later 
 re-assembling to complete its work by electing a candidate for 
 Vice-President. The result was the election of Hannibal Ham- 
 lin, of Maine. 
 
 Lincoln was loved in Chicago, and the city went wild with 
 
326 LINCOLN 
 
 delight. All day and far into the night there were the thunder- 
 ing of cannon over the tossing waters of the lake, the clamor 
 of drums, the glare of bonfires. Decorated and illuminated rails 
 sprang up magically, and were in evidence everywhere. Men 
 and boys were delighted with the idea of a candidate for the 
 Presidency who thirty years before split rails on the Sangamon 
 River. From Chicago the news spread over the country, and 
 from Maine to the Mississippi there was rejoicing. 
 
 At home, in Springfield, surrounded by friends, Lincoln 
 awaited the returns in the office of the Illinois "Journal." The 
 result of the second ballot had been received and commented 
 upon, and the little group sat in silence awaiting the dispatch 
 that would give the decisive news. At length, a messenger from 
 the telegraph office entered, and made his way solemnly to 
 Lincoln's side. As he reached him, he said: 
 
 "The Convention has made a nomination, and Seward is — 
 the second man on the list." Then jumping upon a table he 
 shouted: "Three cheers for Abraham Lincoln, the next Presi- 
 dent of the United States!" 
 
 The cheers were given with a vim, and then the men crowded 
 about Lincoln, congratulating him fervently, as he read the 
 telegram to them which confirmed the messenger's announce- 
 ment. Lincoln shook hands all around, then pocketed the dis- 
 patch, remarking, 
 
 "There's a little woman on Eighth Street who would like 
 to know about this." He walked home to tell the news. 
 
 Mrs. Lincoln was waiting for him. 
 
 "Are you going to be Vice-President, Abraham?" she cried 
 as he entered the hall. 
 
 "No, Mary," responded Lincoln with a shake of the head. 
 And then as a disappointed expression swept over her face, he 
 
"OLD ABRAM IS THE MAN" 327 
 
 added: "Not Vice-President; but they have nominated me for 
 an office that perhaps you will like better." And he handed her 
 the telegram. 
 
 "Oh, Abraham," she cried throwing her arms about him. 
 "I'm so glad! I always said that I'd marry a man who would 
 be President." 
 
 "But I am not elected yet," reminded Lincoln with a smile. 
 
 "No; but you will be," she replied confidently. "Now aren't 
 you glad that I didn't let you go to Oregon?" 
 
 Lincoln laughed; then an expression of melancholy flitted 
 across his countenance. 
 
 "It may be that we shall be sorry that we did not go, Mary. 
 If I should be elected there may be little pleasure for you in 
 Washington. The future looks dark. Prospects and conditions 
 in the country are* alarming. If the South should secede the 
 office of President will be no sinecure." 
 
 "Oh, Abraham, you always see the dark side of things," ex- 
 claimed his wife. "I am sure that everything will clear up once 
 election is over. There has been talk of secession before, and 
 what did it amount to? The North doesn't want to lose the 
 custom of the South, and the South must have some place to 
 sell its cotton. The two sections need each other too much for 
 such a thing to happen. Everything will turn out all right, I 
 am sure. Now come to dinner. There are lamb chops and straw- 
 berry shortcake." 
 
 "Well, that's good enough for the President himself, let 
 alone a mere nominee," said Lincoln. 
 
 As soon as the news became known in Springfield the citi- 
 zens of the little capital could not contain their joy. They 
 fired an hundred guns, and demonstrated in every way their 
 gladness. They idolized Lincoln, and for the rest of the day, 
 
328 LINCOLN 
 
 and the most of the night they paraded, and sang, and shouted, 
 swarming about his house to tender their congratulations and 
 to express their pleasure. When he invited as many as could 
 to come inside the house, saying that he was sorry that it was 
 not large enough to contain them all, they laughingly called 
 back: 
 
 "Never mind. We'll give you a larger one after March 
 Fourth." 
 
 As was the custom, a Committee had been appointed by the 
 National Convention to notify Lincoln formally and officially 
 of his nomination. This Committee, headed by the Honorable 
 George Ashmum, visited Springfield the next day, for this 
 purpose. The Committee was very much pleased with the 
 nominee. The simple earnestness and sincerity with which he 
 received and replied to the speech of notification made by Mr. 
 Ashmum impressed them favorably. They went away feeling 
 assured that the standard of their party could be carried by 
 no better hands. On the 23rd of June Lincoln wrote a formal 
 letter accepting the nomination for the Presidency, and sub- 
 scribing to the platform of the party as set forth in his written 
 notification. 
 
 With the indomitable spirit of America he had reached the 
 culmination of all his hopes and aspirations. The friendless, 
 penniless, pioneer boy had stormed the heights of knowledge 
 and honor, and had been crowned victor. It was again the 
 American Epic demonstrating that from the humblest begin- 
 nings there may be development to highest place and im- 
 measurable service. It was the American spirit, symbol of the 
 character, growth, and achievement of our nation. The spirit 
 which says that no one may be so humble, so poor, so obscure, 
 but that he can, if he will, acquire sufficient education to get 
 
"OLD ABRAM IS THE MAN" 329 
 
 through the world respectably, and be representative of all 
 that is worthily American. But Lincoln, at this time, was not 
 thinking of his humble beginnings, his early struggles, his later 
 development, and rejoicing at his elevation. He felt no exulta- 
 tion, no elation ; only the pressure of a new and great respon- 
 sibility. 
 
 The voters this election had the choice of four candidates, 
 and all parties entered upon the campaign with spirit. Cam- 
 paign songs swept the country like wildfire; their rousing 
 choruses being taken up and made as familiar as household 
 words. The enthusiasm of the people of the North burst all 
 bonds. Rails, representing the hardships of pioneer life, be- 
 came the oriflamme of the leader of the Republican party. 
 Their history and campaign incidents were exploited in the 
 newspapers, and throughout the Union Lincoln's ancient and 
 local sobriquet of "Honest Old Abe," was supplemented by the 
 national epithet of "The Illinois Rail-Splitter." The incidents 
 of his life appealed to the masses of the people. He had been 
 a pioneer, a farm-laborer, a flat-boatman, and a frontier poli- 
 tician; and they saw in him a true representative of America. 
 His success was the ideal of their own aspirations. 
 
 A flood of visitors from every part of the country swarmed 
 into Springfield to see him. Lincoln received every one with 
 the homely and hearty hospitality that he had always shown 
 visitors. Many who expected to find him imbued with a sense 
 of his own importance, found him the same honest, kindly, 
 earnest man he had always been. None of his old heartiness and 
 sincerity left him. He was astonished to find how many friends 
 he had ; but they almost overwhelmed him. 
 
 So great did the throng become that at length a room in the 
 State House was set aside for his use, and here he received the 
 
330 LINCOLN 
 
 public. Transferring all his law business to Herndon, he de- 
 voted himself from morning until night to the reception of his 
 callers, with conscientious care and unwearying patience. Some 
 came from idle curiosity, others honestly rejoicing at his ele- 
 vation; and still others from selfish motives, seeing in the can- 
 didate a possible means to office. But Lincoln was a Man of 
 the People — one of them — and, from whatever motive they 
 came, he gave each one a cordial welcome. 
 
 As the summer passed the political sky darkened. The gath- 
 ering storm was almost ready to burst. The South was making 
 its last stand. Threats of Secession grew louder and deeper. 
 Openly it was declared that if a Republican President were 
 elected the South would leave the Union. Lincoln was often 
 bowed down with despondency as he visioned the future. 
 
 The summer passed; election drew near. His political op- 
 ponents, working desperately in their own organizations, vir- 
 tually conceded his election. Lie had been a wise candidate ; no 
 amount of vituperation could elicit a word in self-vindication, 
 though abuse was heaped upon him unsparingly. He stood 
 upon his record. 
 
 On the Sixth of November the election took place, and re- 
 sulted in Lincoln's triumph. All day there was the greatest ex- 
 citement in Springfield as news from the different sections of 
 the country came thick and fast. Every report of gains for 
 Lincoln was the signal for fresh demonstrations of rejoicing 
 from the citizens of the little capital. On every street men, 
 bearing rails, paraded, singing and shouting. 
 
 A large crowd was massed near the State House, and on 
 its steps E. W. Locke, later called Father Locke when he 
 sang to the boys in the army, was singing a song of his own 
 composition : 
 
"OLD ABRAM IS THE MAN" 331 
 
 "Hark ! hark ! a signal gun is heard, 
 
 Just out beyond the fort ; 
 The good old Ship of State, my boys, 
 
 Is coming into port. 
 With shattered sails and anchors gone, 
 
 I fear the rogues will strand her; 
 She carries now a sorry crew, 
 
 And needs a new commander. 
 
 "Old Abram is the man ! 
 Old Abram is the man ! 
 
 And he'll trim her sails, 
 
 As he split the rails, 
 Old Abram is the man !" 
 
 The shouts, the music of brass bands, the sound of cheering 
 voices wore upon Lincoln, who had been under a heavy strain 
 ever since his nomination, so that he was well tired out in the 
 afternoon, and went home to rest. 
 
 Throwing himself upon a lounge in his chamber he lay idly 
 looking at the objects within the range of his vision. Opposite 
 to where he lay was a bureau with a swinging glass upon it, and 
 looking in the glass he saw himself reflected nearly at full 
 length; but his face had two separate and distinct images, the 
 tip of the nose of one being about three inches from the tip 
 of the other. Lincoln was startled, and lay for a moment gazing 
 at the reflection; then got up and looked into the glass. The 
 illusion vanished, but, on lying down again, he saw it a second 
 time, plainer than before. And then he noticed that one of the 
 faces was about five shades paler than the other. He got up, and 
 again the vision disappeared. Even during the excitement of 
 the rest of the day a memory of the thing would occur, giv- 
 
332 LINCOLN 
 
 ing him a pang as though something uncomfortable had hap- 
 pened. Much of the superstition of pioneer days remained in 
 him, and when the vision came again a few days later, he 
 told Mrs. Lincoln about it. She worried over the matter no 
 little. 
 
 "Abraham," she said earnestly, for like him she was super- 
 stitious, "it is a sign that you will be elected to a second term 
 of the Presidency, but the paleness of one of the faces is an 
 omen that you will not live through the last term." 
 
 "No, Mary," replied Lincoln. "I don't think that. It must 
 be an optical illusion growing out of the state of my nerves. 
 There has been a great deal of excitement, and I reckon I've 
 felt it more than I knew." 
 
 With the election of Lincoln Springfield became the most 
 famous capital in the nation, and crowds thronged its streets to 
 catch sight of the President-elect. The great men of the coun- 
 try jostled shoulders with the poor and humble, and Lincoln 
 made the latter as welcome as he did the former. He was the 
 most important man on the continent. It was hard for him to 
 find time to arrange his Cabinet appointments and to write his 
 inaugural. 
 
 Through it all, however, he preserved a calm exterior, 
 though events were taking place that gave him the most in- 
 tense anxiety. Things in general were going in a bad way. 
 The election, which had filled the North with rejoicing, had 
 exasperated the South to such an extent that shortly there- 
 after the Gulf States seceded. A Southern Confederacy had 
 been formed. Lincoln wore a solemn look as he went about the 
 city. 
 
 In addition to public duties there were private matters to be 
 arranged also; but before looking after these latter Lincoln 
 
"OLD ABRAM IS THE MAN" 333 
 
 packed his carpet bag, and stole away early one morning in 
 January for a last visit to his step-mother at the Goose Neck 
 Farm in Coles County. 
 
 Sally Bush Lincoln welcomed him with gladness. He was 
 nearly fifty-two years old, but he would always be her boy; 
 her good boy who had never given her a cross word or look. 
 Now she held him close, sobbing : 
 
 "Oh, Abe, I'm afraid for you. I'm afraid! I didn't want you 
 to run for President. I didn't want you elected. They'll kill 
 you, Abe. I'll never see you again!" 
 
 "Why, mother, I don't see why any one should wish to 
 kill me," spoke Lincoln reassuringly. "It wouldn't do a bit of 
 good. There would be a Republican President anyway. It 
 might as well be me as any other fellow." 
 
 So he talked until she was her own serene self again. But 
 he did not tell her that he had received letters warning him 
 that he would be killed before he could reach Washington; 
 that his inaugural would never be permitted ; that even though 
 it should be he was facing the most awful crisis the Union had 
 ever encountered. 
 
 And he too had a presentiment that he would never see her 
 again. She was old and infirm, and he sighed as he marked 
 the changes in her appearance. She had been a very tall woman, 
 straight as an arrow, handsome and sprightly, with beautiful 
 hair that curled naturally; she was now bent and worn with 
 labor and sorrow. So these two between whom there had al- 
 ways been a deep and abiding affection talked, each oppressed 
 by vague fears of the future. 
 
 She noticed that he who, until recently, had always been 
 smooth-shaven, now wore a beard, and spoke of it. And he told 
 her that a little girl had written to him saying that she thought 
 
334 LINCOLN 
 
 he would be better looking if he would wear a beard; that he 
 had talked it over with his wife, and they had decided that, 
 because of his long neck, it might be well to follow her advice. 
 And did she like it? 
 
 "Well," she answered hesitatingly, "it makes you look older, 
 and wiser, perhaps; but you'll always be Abe whether you 
 wear a beard or not." 
 
 During his short stay Lincoln visited the neighboring 
 country grave-yard where his father was buried. There was 
 nothing to mark the grave of Thomas Lincoln, so, on a piece 
 of oak board he cut the letters T. L. and placed it at the head 
 of the grave. A few days later he took a last sad farewell of 
 his mother, and went away. 
 
 The last days in Springfield passed quickly. There were re- 
 ceptions to, and receptions given by, the Lincoln family, old 
 and young; the house was leased, the cow, horse, and buggy 
 were sold ; the trunks packed, and by the eleventh day of Feb- 
 ruary everything was in readiness for the departure for Wash- 
 ington. 
 
 The day before leaving Lincoln went to the law office, and 
 sat down for a last talk with Herndon. They spoke of bygone 
 days with much feeling. Suddenly Lincoln said: 
 
 "Billy, how long have we been together?" 
 
 "Sixteen years, Mr. Lincoln." 
 
 "And never a cross word; never a misunderstanding be- 
 tween us." 
 
 "Never," answered Herndon with emotion. 
 
 "Keep the old shingle hanging, Billy. If I live I am coming 
 back, and we'll go on together in the practice of law as if 
 nothing had ever happened." 
 
 The next morning, the eleventh day of February, was the 
 
"OLD ABRAM IS THE MAN" 335 
 
 time of departure. Lincoln, his family, and his suite arrived 
 early at the little brick station where a throng of at least a 
 thousand of his neighbors and friends had gathered to bid him 
 good-bye. It was a cloudy, stormy morning, with a cold drizzle 
 of rain falling. The scene became one of solemnity as Lincoln 
 took a position in the waiting-room where his friends filed past 
 him, shaking hands, wishing him luck, and often merely press- 
 ing his hand in silent emotion. 
 
 The half-finished ceremony was broken in upon by the sig- 
 nal bell for starting. The crowd closed about the railroad car 
 into which the President-elect and his party made their way. 
 Once more the bell gave the signal, but as the conductor 
 paused with his hand lifted to the bell-rope, Lincoln appeared 
 on the back platform of the car, and raised his hand for silence. 
 The people bared their heads to the soft drizzle of the rain, and 
 standing thus, his friends and neighbors heard his voice for 
 the last time : 
 
 "My friends, no one not in my situation, can appreciate my 
 feeling of sadness at this parting. To this place, and the kind- 
 ness of these people, I owe everything. 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 return, 
 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 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 affec- 
 tionate farewell." 
 
336 LINCOLN 
 
 The train started, rolled away, and the mist closed about 
 it hiding him from the sight of his weeping fellow townsmen. 
 
 The years of preparation were ended ; the time of fulfillment 
 had come. 
 
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN 
 
 THE BREAKING OF THE STORM 
 
 The journey from Springfield to Washington extended 
 over a period of two weeks, and was a series of ovations. Some 
 time before leaving Springfield Lincoln had received many in- 
 vitations from the Legislatures of several States asking him to 
 visit their capitals on his journey to Washington. Believing 
 that it would not only be gracious to accept these invitations, 
 but also be the means of establishing more sympathetic rela- 
 tions between him and the people, he consented to visit the 
 cities of Indianapolis, Columbus, Cincinnati, Cleveland, Pitts- 
 burgh, Buffalo, Albany, Trenton, Philadelphia, and Harris- 
 burg. 
 
 With receptions, handshakings, speechifying at all cere- 
 monies, salutes, cheers, military parades and imposing proces- 
 sions the journey was like a triumphal progress. It was over 
 at length, and he arrived in Washington on the morning of the 
 twenty-third of February, and was installed in the spacious 
 parlors on the second floor of Willard's Hotel, fronting on 
 Pennsylvania Avenue. There was but little more than a week 
 to prepare for the inauguration, and this time Lincoln par- 
 
 337 
 
338 LINCOLN 
 
 tially gave up to paying ceremonial calls upon the outgoing 
 President and his Cabinet, to the two Houses of Congress, and 
 to the Supreme Court of the United States. The rest of the 
 time was taken up by the immediate business that would follow 
 his inauguration. 
 
 Inauguration Day, the Fourth of March, fell upon Monday, 
 and was a bright and beautiful day. After his duties at the 
 closing session of Congress were over President Buchanan, 
 accompanied by the Senate Committee of Arrangements, 
 drove to Willard's Hotel, called upon the President-elect, 
 conducted him to the waiting carriage, in which, side by side, 
 they rode between double files of a squadron of cavalry, along 
 Pennsylvania Avenue to the Capitol. Every one felt that 
 another war was impending, and as the atmosphere was at high 
 tension, and there had been rumors of plots to assassinate the 
 President-elect, the utmost precautions had been taken to in- 
 sure public order and the safety of all concerned in the cere- 
 monies. The inauguration was to take place on a platform con- 
 structed at the east front of the Capitol overlooking a large 
 and open esplanade where an immense throng of people stood 
 in waiting. 
 
 When the cheers which greeted the appearance of the Presi- 
 dential party had abated, Senator Baker, of Oregon, a be- 
 loved friend of Lincoln, rose and introduced the President- 
 elect to the audience. The President-elect stepped forward, 
 hat in hand, and glanced about for some place to put it. His 
 eye happened to catch that of Stephen A. Douglas, who 
 smiled, and immediately reached forward and took the hat 
 which he held while Lincoln delivered his inaugural oration. 
 It was a noble act, one which showed Douglas to be a true gen- 
 tleman. Lincoln bowed his thanks as he stepped forward to 
 
THE BREAKING OF THE STORM 339 
 
 read his inaugural. His self-possession was perfect. His voice 
 was firm and resonant, quite reaching the outer fringes of 
 the vast crowd in front. His expression was serious to the 
 point of gravity. 
 
 The inaugural was a model of a reasoning, moderate, and 
 conciliatory address. In common with many others Lincoln 
 hoped that war would be averted and that the South would 
 return peaceably to its allegiance to the Union. In closing he 
 said: 
 
 "In your hands, my dissatisfied fellow countrymen, and not 
 in mine, is the momentous issue of civil war. The government 
 will not assail you. You can have no conflict without being 
 yourselves the aggressors. You have no oath registered in 
 Heaven to destroy the government, while I have the most 
 solemn one to 'preserve, protect, and defend' it. 
 
 "I am loath to close. We are not enemies but friends. We 
 must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it 
 must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic cords of 
 memory, stretching from every battle-field and patriotic grave 
 to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad land, 
 will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as 
 surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature." 
 
 Great cheering greeted the conclusion. Chief-Justice Taney 
 arose, the Clerk opened the Bible, and laying his hand upon it, 
 Abraham Lincoln took the oath as President of the United 
 States. 
 
 The broad battery upon the brow of the hill that com- 
 manded both the approach and the esplanade before the east 
 front thundered its salute, and the ex-President Buchanan and 
 President Lincoln returned to their carriage, and the military 
 procession escorted them from the Capitol to the Executive 
 
340 LINCOLN 
 
 Mansion. Here Mr. Buchanan warmly shook hands with his 
 successor, and with many heartfelt wishes for his personal hap- 
 j^iness and the national peace and prosperity took his leave. 
 
 The first duty of the President was the formation of his 
 Cabinet. He had already made his selections and all that re- 
 mained was to formally designate them, and have them con- 
 firmed by the Senate. The men who had been his rivals for 
 the Presidency were those whom he made the heads of his 
 executive household. 
 
 The day after the Senate confirmed these nominations Lin- 
 coln called them together for an informal meeting. From that 
 time forth he had almost daily meetings with them; for his 
 first Presidential footsteps were treading upon the borders of 
 war — the like of which had never before been seen ; the end of 
 which only God could foresee. But he was not daunted, though 
 the affairs of the country were in a bad way. 
 
 The Confederacy had been organized and in peaceful con- 
 trol of its territory for two months. There was no disposition 
 in the North to coerce it, except among a minority. The pre- 
 dominating sentiment was that nothing could be done ; that the 
 South was acting within its rights however much it was to be 
 regretted. There were many Northerners who believed with the 
 South that the Union was not a nation, but a partnership from 
 which any of the partners had a right to withdraw whenever it 
 saw fit. If Lincoln had fired on the Confederacy half of the 
 North would have risen against him. Therefore, with far-seeing 
 wisdom, he laid upon the South the responsibility of beginning 
 the war, if war it was to be. 
 
 Of all the forts which the nation had placed on the Southern 
 coast, few remained to it. These were the forts near Key West, 
 Fortress Monroe at the mouth of Chesapeake Bay, Fort Pick- 
 
THE BREAKING OF THE STORM 341 
 
 ens at Pensacola, and Fort Sumter in Charleston Harbor. 
 Both the last named were beleaguered by hostile batteries. But 
 the attention of the whole country, North and South, was cen- 
 tred upon Fort Sumter where Major Robert Anderson was 
 in command of a very small force of United States troops. If 
 it were to be held it would have to be reinforced, and pro- 
 visioned which would be no easy task, surrounded as it was by 
 the batteries of the Confederates, and Lincoln conferred daily 
 with his Cabinet as to the best policy to pursue towards it. 
 General Scott advised its abandonment as a military necessity, 
 but there were others who demanded that it should be held at 
 all hazards. 
 
 Lincoln studied possible plans of relief; studied also the 
 strength of his army and navy, enrolled militia for the de- 
 fense of Washington, and quietly made other preparations for 
 action. At length, on the sixth of April, he gave the final order 
 that an expedition should sail to strengthen and provision Fort 
 Sumter. 
 
 Secession had taken away many of the men who had for 
 years managed the Federal Government, and who understood 
 its workings. Hundreds of clerks and many officers of high 
 grade and function had resigned. These places had to be filled, 
 and Lincoln set himself to the work of making appointments. 
 He had not much time for politics, yet he realized that he must 
 give his attention to his appointments or the administration 
 would suffer. The White House was filled with office-seekers. 
 They fairly besieged him; waylaying him in the corridors, on 
 the staircases, in the grounds. They thronged the anteroom to 
 his office from early morn until dewy eve, and sought him 
 out in every available place until they finally got upon his 
 nerves. 
 
342 LINCOLN 
 
 "I am like a man so busy letting rooms in one end of his 
 house that he cannot stop to put out a fire that is burning the 
 other," he commented plaintively to his friends. 
 
 At this juncture came the news that ended the period of 
 breathless waiting of what would come next. The Confederates 
 had taken the official information that supplies were to be sent 
 to Fort Sumter as an overt act, and General Beauregard was 
 commanded to take the fort. Accordingly he sent a demand to 
 Major Anderson for the surrender of the fort, which Ander- 
 son promptly refused. Beauregard gave him an hour for con- 
 sideration, and then began the bombardment. It was Satur- 
 day, the thirteenth of April, that the newspapers contained the 
 startling headlines announcing the beginning of hostilities. 
 
 Every heart was shocked and thrilled by the announcement. 
 It was War. Business was suspended, and men, women, and 
 children flocked to the telegraph and newspaper offices to get 
 the latest news, and to stand about in groups to talk over the 
 intelligence. 
 
 But, while the Sumter telegrams were on every tongue, and 
 excitement reigned supreme throughout the city and the na- 
 tion, Lincoln made little variation in the routine of the Exec- 
 utive office. He was never liable to sudden excitement; his 
 personal manner was one of steadiness of word and act. He 
 said little beyond making inquiries about current reports and 
 commenting upon the probabilities of their details. 
 
 The news that came the next morning, however, put a new 
 face on the matter. Sumter had fallen. The tidings spread over 
 the land as fire sweeps the prairie in a wind. It was Sunday, 
 but the churches were forsaken, and the opening of War was 
 the only topic of conversation. Lincoln called his Cabinet to- 
 gether at once. 
 
THE BREAKING OF THE STORM 343 
 
 "They leave us no choice but to fight," he said sadly; "so 
 I have drawn up a Proclamation calling for troops." 
 
 With this he submitted a Proclamation calling for seventy- 
 five thousand militia for three months, and convening Congress 
 in an extra session on the coming Fourth of July. It was con- 
 curred in by all the members, and was copied on the spot by his 
 secretary, signed, and sent to the State Department to be 
 sealed, filed, and copied for publication in the next morning's 
 newspapers. 
 
 There followed a general stampede from Washington. The 
 Southern Senators and citizens holding public office left their 
 resignations and went home. It was a sad, busy day for Lin- 
 coln. In the evening he sat in the Executive office alone, a prey 
 to melancholy. He did not know how the Call to Arms would 
 be received. He believed wholly in the loyalty of the people, 
 but there had been much uneasiness among them during the 
 winter ; a disposition to concede anything to the South to avert 
 war. Would the firing on the nation's flag find them still averse 
 to coercion? Would their attachment to the Union be strong 
 enough for them to fight to sustain it? He was soon to learn 
 that his forbearance towards the South had been wise ; for now 
 a universal burst of patriotic fervor swept the North at the 
 firing on Fort Sumter. It needed just that to sweep away all 
 party lines and unite the people in one common purpose. He 
 was to learn that the weak federation of States which had ex- 
 isted in the time of the founders had become a mighty nation. 
 With immigration the population of the North had increased 
 enormously, and the immigrants had become citizens, not 
 of any one State, but of the United States. The State Sover- 
 eignty, which animated the South, — which had few immi- 
 grants, — had grown weak in the North where the railroad had 
 
344 LINCOLN 
 
 abolished State lines, and machinery and immigration had 
 made a nation. And Lincoln, sitting alone in his office, facing 
 the dark shadow that hung over the nation, vowed a solemn 
 vow, that come what would, he would save the Union ; that by 
 every means in his power he would strive for a united country. 
 
 In the midst of these conclusions Colonel John Nicolay, his 
 private secretary, entered the room. 
 
 "Mr. Ashmum and Senator Douglas are in the anteroom, 
 sir. They wish to see you." 
 
 "Senator Douglas?" repeated Lincoln in surprise. "Why, 
 he has been fighting the Administration ever since the inau- 
 guration. What can he want?" 
 
 "They did not say, sir. Merely that it was important." 
 
 "Show them in, John. I am always glad to see Ashmum, 
 and Douglas does liven up a fellow. Gentlemen," going for- 
 ward with extended hands as Nicolay ushered in Mr. Ashmum 
 and Senator Douglas, "this is an unexpected honor. Be seated, 
 and tell me what I can do for you." 
 
 There was a moment's silence and then Douglas spoke : 
 
 "Mr. President, this morning there came the news of the 
 fall of Fort Sumter. It has roused me as nothing else could 
 do; and I have come to offer you my sympathy and support 
 in the war that must follow for the preservation of the Union." 
 
 Lincoln started up in quick excitement. 
 
 "Do you mean that, Douglas?" he asked. 
 
 "With all my heart," answered Douglas earnestly. "Po- 
 litically, of course, I don't agree with you, and never shall. 
 But when it comes to preserving the Union I am with you body 
 and soul. I will do everything in my power to help you." 
 
 Lincoln leaned forward and took his hand in both his own. 
 
 "There isn't anybody whose aid I'd rather have," he de- 
 
THE BREAKING OF THE STORM 345 
 
 clared with emotion. "Why, you can be of the greatest service. 
 A word from you to the Democrats of the North, and they 
 will unite solidly in the support of the Administration. And we 
 are going to need the help of every man in the North if we 
 put down the poison of Secession/' 
 
 "Yes," said Douglas. "We will." 
 
 The lifelong antagonists clasped hands. For once they were 
 united in heart and purpose. Mr. Ashmum watched the scene 
 with emotion. After a moment Lincoln took up a copy of his 
 Proclamation, and read it to them. 
 
 "Mr. President," said Douglas, "I cordially concur in every 
 word of that document, except that instead of the call for 
 seventy-five thousand men I would call for two hundred thou- 
 sand." 
 
 And so these two former rivals talked, and Douglas gave 
 Lincoln many suggestions of practical value, and when at 
 length Mr. Ashmum and the Senator took their departure 
 they left a cheered and strengthened man behind them. There 
 was a warm glow at Lincoln's heart as he went to the family 
 apartment from the office. Well he knew how much it had cost 
 the proud Douglas to humble himself as he had to do to come 
 to him. He remembered that Douglas was an ambitious man, 
 that he was a sadly disappointed man, that he himself occu- 
 pied the chair to which Douglas had aspired so many years. 
 But everything had been subordinated to his devotion to his 
 country. Lincoln's heart glowed with admiration and tender- 
 ness. What Douglas had done, others would do. 
 
 After leaving the President Mr. Ashmum said: 
 
 "You have done justice to your own reputation, and to the 
 President, Mr. Douglas, and the country must know it. The 
 Proclamation will go by telegraph all over the country in the 
 
346 LINCOLN 
 
 morning, and the account of this interview must go with it. I 
 shall send it either in my own language or yours. I prefer that 
 you should give your own version." 
 
 "I will write it," replied Douglas. So, as the people of the 
 country read Lincoln's Proclamation calling for seventy-five 
 thousand men to come to the aid of the nation, they read also 
 of Douglas's interview with the President and the pledge of 
 his support. As was expected it helped to swell the tide of 
 loyal sentiment that was rising among all parties and classes 
 to its flood. 
 
 From this time forth Douglas devoted himself to the in- 
 terests of the nation with unwearied devotion. He put down 
 his ambition for himself and set up instead his ambition for 
 his country. During the following month he spoke to large 
 meetings of Union men, urging such measures as would 
 strengthen the hands of the government. "We should never 
 forget that a man cannot be a true Democrat unless he is a 
 loyal patriot," was one of his utterances. Towards the end of 
 May he sickened and died on June Third. Lincoln felt his 
 death keenly. 
 
 The Proclamation was issued on the Fifteenth of April, and 
 was received with the utmost excitement. The great struggle 
 between slavery and the country had come at last. The response 
 from the North to the call was immediate. 
 
 Within forty-eight hours after the Call was published the 
 Massachusetts Sixth Regiment was on its way to the Capital. 
 In passing through Baltimore, however, a mob attacked it, 
 and several of its men were killed and wounded ; the first blood 
 shed in the war. There were no casualties at Sumter. Then, so 
 that no more troops could be sent through the city, the mob 
 burned the bridges north of Baltimore, rousing the North to 
 
THE BREAKING OF THE STORM 347 
 
 fury. Meantime, Virginia seceded, and on the nineteenth of 
 April Lincoln issued another Proclamation, declaring the 
 ports of the seceded States in a state of blockade and closed 
 against the commerce of the world. 
 
 The most dreadful of all Civil Wars had begun. 
 
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT 
 
 FATHER ABRAHAM 
 
 The riot at Baltimore with the burning of the bridges and 
 the breaking up of the railway precipitated a panic in Wash- 
 ington. Those who were not residents became possessed of an 
 uncontrollable desire to get away, and the Capital was soon de- 
 nuded of its redundant population. 
 
 The city was in grave danger of attack. Virginia was in 
 arms on one side, Maryland on the other. The one hope of 
 saving it lay in the swift assembling of the Eastern militia. 
 Which would be the first to reach it — Federals or Con- 
 federates? It was no wonder that gloom and despondency lay 
 over the city, paralyzing its traffic, and crushing out its life. 
 Rumors of all sorts were rife. Nearly all business was at a 
 standstill, and theatres and places of amusement were closed. 
 The only movements seen upon the streets were those of a 
 military nature. 
 
 Rut through all the tense anxiety of that week Lincoln was 
 not daunted. He held his faith that the troops would come 
 when they could; though sometimes, after the business of the 
 day was over and the Executive office deserted, he would walk 
 the floor in silent thought, stopping often to gaze long and 
 
 348 
 
"FATHER ABRAHAM" 349 
 
 wistfully out of the window down the Potomac in the direction 
 of the expected ships. For, the railways being destroyed, the 
 Union troops were compelled to go around Baltimore by sea. 
 A patient sadness grew in his manner, a deeper melancholy 
 dwelt in his countenance, but in the midst of the panic and 
 varying counsels he showed no fear. 
 
 And then, on the Twenty-fifth of April, as though to justify 
 his hope, the Seventh Regiment of New York arrived. In an 
 hour the paralyzed city recovered its health and cheerfulness. 
 Cheer upon cheer greeted the young men as they swung up 
 Pennsylvania Avenue, with gaily floating flags, and the in- 
 spiring music of their regimental band. Doors were opened, 
 windows thrown up, and the people came forth upon the streets 
 as for a holiday. 
 
 By the first of June, there was camped or billeted about 
 Washington the cream of the State soldiery from every Com- 
 monwealth east of the Ohio and north of the Potomac — except 
 Maryland. But it was a motley concourse, which would take 
 time to discipline and train. The call for seventy-five thou- 
 sand militia for three months was quickly followed by a call 
 for a hundred thousand volunteers for three years; and such 
 was the spirit and enthusiasm of the people that the demand 
 was answered to excess. They came dustily forth from the 
 troop trains and went trudging along the length of Pennsyl- 
 vania Avenue, and out to the waiting camps in the suburbs, 
 singing as they marched the most popular song of the day 
 
 "We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand more, 
 From Mississippi's winding stream and from New England's shore ; 
 We leave our plows and workshops, our wives and children dear, 
 With hearts too full for utterance, with but a single tear, 
 We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand more !" 
 
350 LINCOLN 
 
 As Lincoln listened to "his boys," for so he already called 
 them, a mighty resolve filled his heart. They were come to lay 
 down their young lives for a cause that he had told them was 
 holy. He resolved that the sacrifice should not be in vain ; that 
 at whatever cost the Union should be preserved. 
 
 With a promptitude unknown before in modern history, the 
 people sprang to arms. Indeed, so eager were they to furnish 
 men and supplies that they became at once impatient for re- 
 sults. There was on both sides a belief that the war would be a 
 short one. The South, believing that one Southerner was equal 
 to five Yankees, expected that a few victories would establish 
 its independence. The North, regarding secession as little more 
 than a great riot, entertained the equally erroneous impression 
 that it could be extinguished in ninety days. 
 
 Lincoln had a better and clearer appreciation of the task. 
 While discussing the proclamation calling for volunteers with 
 his Cabinet, one of the members made a disparaging contrast 
 of Southern enterprise with the Northern. 
 
 "We must not forget," said Lincoln, "that the people of 
 the seceded States, like those of the loyal ones, are American 
 citizens, with essentially the same characteristics and powers. 
 Exceptional advantages on one side are counterbalanced by 
 exceptional advantages on the other. We must make up our 
 minds that man for man the soldier from the South will be a 
 match for the soldier from the North; and vice versa." 
 
 But the people, the press, and the Congress, which had as- 
 sembled according to proclamation, all clamored for a battle — 
 a battle which would put down the rebellion promptly and 
 decisively. There had already been some skirmishing, and some 
 substantial advantages had been gained by the North ; but they 
 were not of a sufficiently brilliant character fully to satisfy the 
 
FATHER ABRAHAM" 351 
 
 expectation of the excited people. Therefore, the government 
 unwisely yielded to the pressure, and ordered their imperfectly 
 trained troops to advance and attack the Confederates, assem- 
 bled at Manassas Junction, on Bull Run. 
 
 The army began its march to Bull Run on the Nineteenth of 
 July, but it was not until the Twenty-first that Lincoln heard 
 the result. During these days he had walked back and forth 
 between the White House and the War Department to hear 
 whatever news might come from the field. Not at this time, nor 
 through the entire period of the war, did the White House have 
 telegraph communications, and whenever Lincoln wished to 
 hear from his armies in the field, or to send orders or inquiries 
 to the commanders at the front, he would walk over to the War 
 Department Building. 
 
 He was much depressed as he heard what had happened at 
 Bull Run. The Federal army moved against the Confederates 
 with a force about equal in numbers. At first, the attack of the 
 Union forces against their foe was successful, but, after a 
 long hard day of fighting, reinforcements came to the aid of 
 the Confederates, and the tide of battle turned in their favor. 
 The Federals, wearied with long fighting, could not endure the 
 vehemence of the new attack. They had fought bravely and 
 well, but now they broke and fled in wild disorder. Inexperi- 
 enced troops in retreat soon degenerate into a panic-stricken 
 mass of men, and such these now became. In a few hours the 
 army upon which Lincoln and the people had built such high 
 hopes was pouring into Washington, bringing wild and alarm- 
 ing stories of the rout, and crying that the Capital would be 
 taken as the Confederates were in full pursuit. 
 
 Lincoln heard the news with keen distress. He felt the bur- 
 den of it all upon his own shoulders. It was with worn and 
 
352 LINCOLN 
 
 haggard face that he entered the Executive office and sat down 
 at his desk. 
 
 "Mr. President," spoke Colonel Nicolay who was much dis- 
 turbed by the intelligence that the Confederates were advanc- 
 ing upon the Capital, "the fugitives from the army report 
 that the Confederates are coming towards the city in full 
 force. Don't you believe that you would better go to An- 
 napolis for a time? It would not do for our President to be 
 captured." 
 
 Lincoln smiled wanly. 
 
 "Neither would it do for him to run away, John. A captain 
 never leaves his ship when it is in danger. I reckon I'll stay 
 with the old boat." 
 
 "But what about Mrs. Lincoln and the boys? Are they 
 to stay too?" 
 
 "They say so. I just looked in on them to suggest that it 
 might be better for them to go somewhere until after the battle 
 — if there be one — to take the city. They were quite indignant 
 at the mere idea of it. Mary said that she would never leave 
 me, and the boys said they could look after mother. So there 
 you are. This is a bad business, John." 
 
 "It is indeed, sir." 
 
 "I fear the effect on the people," spoke Lincoln musingly. 
 "They are unaccustomed to war, and the list of killed and 
 wounded will seem most dreadful and gory. It has been a 
 needless sacrifice of life. I fear too the effect of victory on the 
 South. The Southerners will be so elated with this first great 
 success that they will keep on in the error of their ways. And 
 I wanted them to come back home, and behave themselves. 
 Now it will postpone their coming for no telling how long." He 
 fell into melancholic reflection. 
 
FATHER ABRAHAM" 353 
 
 But after all the Confederates did not follow up their ad- 
 vantage, and Washington, then at their mercy, was not at- 
 tacked. 
 
 It was the first real battle of the war, and its results were 
 of the greatest importance. Both sides recognized the magni- 
 tude of the undertaking; the indomitable resolution of their 
 opponents, and the need of thoroughly disciplining their 
 troops. 
 
 It followed that while there was much skirmishing going 
 on during the rest of the year, with few real battles, there was 
 no forward movement made. It was a trial of bravery and 
 strategy in which both sides were learning how to fight. 
 
 But the United States Navy had been increased from forty- 
 two vessels at the beginning of the war to about three hundred 
 by the close of this preparatory period. These served to en- 
 force the blockade of the South, which was the first step in 
 the great plan that was to crush the Confederacy. 
 
 With the beginning of the New Year the war began to be 
 pushed with vigor both in the Mississippi Valley and in Vir- 
 ginia. While the country was rejoicing over the victories of 
 Fort Henry and Fort Donelson, Lincoln was facing a great 
 sorrow. Early in February, Willie and Tad, his younger boys, 
 became ill. He could never see suffering without a great yearn- 
 ing to relieve it. Especially was he moved by the distress of a 
 child. As has been said, he was a tender father, and the suffer- 
 ing of his children filled him with intense anguish. Every mo- 
 ment that he could slip away from his duties he spent in the 
 sick room, and during the last four or five days of Willie's life 
 Lincoln watched with the nurse by his boy's bedside. When the 
 boy died, on February 20th, he was almost prostrated with 
 grief. 
 
354 LINCOLN 
 
 "This is hard, hard! Why must it be?" questioned Lincoln 
 over and over, in heartbroken woe. 
 
 But he did not long give way to his sorrow. There were pub- 
 lic duties to attend to, and the affairs of the country could not 
 long be neglected. Moreover, he was now father to the boys 
 of the nation who needed his care and attention. And with a 
 greater compassion than ever Lincoln looked after them. His 
 sympathetic heart bled for the hardships and woes which they 
 endured. If any one of them was in need of mercy and for- 
 giveness and there was any excuse for granting it, he did not 
 ask in vain. 
 
 But the thing that most worried him — that caused him to 
 lose sleep nights — was the power of life and death in the court- 
 martial cases from the army. Every death sentence must be 
 reviewed and passed upon by the President. This was a duty 
 he would not delegate to any one. The mighty compassion that 
 filled his great soul made his pen falter when it came to sign- 
 ing his name to a paper that meant death to a fellow man. 
 Lincoln had great powers conferred upon him during the war, 
 and again and again he abused them on the side of mercy, but 
 not otherwise. 
 
 On one occasion, when there were a number of deserters 
 sentenced by court-martial to be shot, the warrants were sent 
 to him to be signed. He refused. The officer in command came 
 on to Washington to interview him. He said : 
 
 "Mr. President, unless these men are made an example of, 
 the army itself is in danger. Mercy to the few is cruelty to the 
 many." 
 
 "Mr. General," replied Lincoln, "there are already too many 
 weeping widows in the United States. Don't ask me to add to 
 the number; for I won't do it." 
 
"FATHER ABRAHAM" 355 
 
 This sentimentalism of Lincoln's was severely criticised by 
 the military commanders. But, after all, that sentimentalism 
 was the key to Lincoln's strength. His sympathy was more po- 
 tent than military discipline. For the soldiers adored him. He 
 was to them the embodiment of the Cause for which they were 
 fighting. His appearance in camp or on review was always a 
 signal for eruptions of enthusiasm. They never thought of him 
 as President Lincoln. To them he was Father Abraham, or 
 simply "Old Abe." 
 
 During all the operations of the years 1861 and '62 the ques- 
 tion of slavery was an ever-present one. As the Northern 
 armies forced their way southward, escaped slaves flocked to 
 them in great numbers. They were willing to fight, or to per- 
 form any labor, if they would be received, and not returned 
 to their owners. What to do with them was a problem. They 
 could not be armed, and the North still held that whatever 
 was sanctioned by the Constitution should not be interfered 
 with. 
 
 All his life Lincoln had hated slavery. "If slavery be not 
 wrong, then nothing is wrong," he declared. But he was bound 
 by his oath of office to stand by the Constitution. His duty as 
 President was not to destroy slavery, but to save the Union. 
 And he said to his critics : 
 
 "If I could save the Union without freeing any slave, I 
 would do it ; if I could save it by freeing all the slaves, I would 
 do it ; and if I could save it by freeing some and leaving others 
 alone, I would do it." 
 
 But war changes opinions. Lincoln had always believed that 
 a time would come when slavery would be abolished in the 
 whole Union, and he had determined that it should come just 
 as soon as he could justify it to his own conscience and to his- 
 
350 LINCOLN 
 
 tory as a military necessity. In no other event could he take 
 such a step consistently with his oath. 
 
 Through the Spring and Summer of 1862 the army of the 
 Potomac met with misfortune after misfortune. The people 
 were discouraged and depressed. It seemed to Lincoln that the 
 country was being punished because the scourge of slavery 
 was still in the land. He felt the time had come when he 
 must respond to that inner voice which cried to him: "Let my 
 people go." Believing that the North would never be success- 
 ful in the great struggle unless that command was obeyed he 
 set himself to the act. Without consulting his Cabinet, or giv- 
 ing them any knowledge of what he was doing, he prepared the 
 original draft of the Proclamation of Emancipation. 
 
 It was late summer when he called his Cabinet together. 
 None of the members knew the occasion of the meeting, and 
 for a time they were puzzled concerning it. By way of opening 
 the meeting Lincoln took down from a shelf a copy of "Ar- 
 temus Ward — His Book," and read an entire chapter to them. 
 It was a droll effusion, and Lincoln laughed heartily all the 
 while that he was reading it. It was his way of relieving the 
 tension under which he was laboring. He knew that he was 
 taking a tremendous step; which involved the liberty of 
 four millions of human beings, and of others yet unborn; one 
 too which would revolutionize the social institutions of more 
 than a third of the nation. But the scholarly gentlemen of his 
 Cabinet did not understand the necessity of relief which he 
 was experiencing, and were shocked by his levity on so august 
 an occasion as a Cabinet meeting. 
 
 But, the chapter ended, Lincoln's manner changed to one of 
 nobleness, and, rising to his full height, he said: 
 
 "I have brought you together, gentlemen, to read you a Proc- 
 
FATHER ABRAHAM" 357 
 
 lamation of Emancipation, which I have determined to issue. 
 I do not wish to ask advice on the general question, because 
 I have determined that for myself. I wish to inform you of 
 my purpose, and to receive such suggestions upon minor points 
 as you might be moved to make." 
 
 And then in tense silence he read the document. Some of 
 the members approved; others deprecated the policy; but, by 
 Mr. Seward's advice, its issue was deferred until it could be 
 given to the country supported by a military success, rather 
 than after the greatest disasters of the war. 
 
 Meanwhile, the Confederate army, under General Lee, had 
 achieved some important successes, had crossed the Potomac, 
 and was pushing forward to invade Maryland and Pennsyl- 
 vania. The news created something like a panic in the country. 
 Lincoln was deeply stirred, and in his heart he made a vow to 
 God that if the invasion should be repelled he would issue the 
 Proclamation. 
 
 The Confederates were repelled. In the bloody battle of 
 Antietam, which took place on the seventeenth of September, 
 they were routed and driven back across the Potomac, and 
 Maryland and Pennsylvania were saved. 
 
 "The time has come," Lincoln told himself, and thereupon 
 called his Cabinet together. 
 
 "Gentlemen," he said, "I believe that the time has come when 
 the country will sustain this Emancipation policy. It can no 
 longer be delayed. Many of my warmest friends and support- 
 ers demand it; and," he said in a low tone, "I have promised 
 my God that I will do it." 
 
 Mr. Chase, who sat nearest to him, was the only one who 
 heard the last words. Immediately he said: "Did I under- 
 stand you correctly, Mr. President?" 
 
358 LINCOLN 
 
 "I made a solemn vow before God," said Lincoln rever- 
 ently, "that if General Lee should be driven back from Penn- 
 sylvania, I would crown the result by the declaration of free- 
 dom to the slaves." 
 
 On Monday, the Twenty-second of September, 1862, the 
 Proclamation of Emancipation was issued to the country. It 
 was only a preliminary proclamation. It declared free the 
 slaves of those States or sections of States which should be in 
 rebellion on the First day of January, 1863. 
 
 The Proclamation was hailed with great demonstrations by 
 the Northern people. Congress expressed its cordial approval, 
 and a wave of new-born hope rushed over the country. From 
 that time forth the war took on a new aspect. "It was hence- 
 forth a war for the re-establishment of the Union — a Union 
 without slavery." 
 
 On the First of January, 1863, the final Proclamation of 
 Emancipation was issued, and the important act was complete. 
 It was the central act of Lincoln's administration, and the 
 great event of the nineteenth century. 
 
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE 
 
 THE MARTYR 
 
 The long war dragged out its weary length with varying 
 fortunes, and the opening of 1865 found the Confederacy con- 
 vulsed with its dying struggles. There were still pressing prob- 
 lems, sorrow and anxiety, that beset the nation, but Lincoln 
 was more cheerful, more hopeful of a peace that should save 
 the Union than he had been at any time of the war. 
 
 In February he met Commissioners of the Confederate 
 government on a steamer at Hampton Roads, and although the 
 interview led to nothing, he felt that the fact that they had 
 sought to negotiate pointed to a speedy conclusion of the con- 
 flict. 
 
 There were also daily dispatches from General Grant tell- 
 ing of the progress of his campaign against Lee that were 
 gratifying; Sherman had completed his march to the sea, and 
 there was every indication that the war was fast approaching 
 conclusion. No one viewed the approach of peace with greater 
 pleasure than did Lincoln, and it was with this spirit that he 
 wrote his second inaugural address, — for he had been re- 
 nominated and reelected to a second term, — an address so 
 
 359 
 
360 LINCOLN 
 
 fraught with human sympathy, so expressive of his character. 
 
 Lincoln had made no secret, among his personal friends, 
 that he desired to be elected to a second term. To one of these 
 he said: "I am trying to do the best that I can for the country, 
 but if the people desire to change, it is not for me to resist or 
 complain. Nevertheless, between you and me, I think the 
 change would be impolitic. I don't believe it is wise to swap 
 horses while crossing a stream." 
 
 And he had been reelected. In four years of war he had 
 been tried and not found wanting. There was no longer doubt 
 in the hearts of the people, and both at home and abroad Abra- 
 ham Lincoln was acknowledged to be the leading citizen of 
 the United States, and one of the greatest rulers of the world. 
 The nations of the earth, believing with the men, who of old 
 sat on the banks of the yellow Tiber, that a Republican form 
 of government could not endure, had watched with wondering 
 eyes as, under his leadership, the Union emerged triumphant 
 from the storms that rent it. 
 
 Lincoln's second inaugural day, March 4th, 1865, dawned 
 dark and dismal, but the rain ceased when the procession from 
 the White House to the Capitol began. For the first time in 
 the history of the United States, civil associations of negro citi- 
 zens joined in the procession, and a battalion of negro soldiers 
 formed part of the military escort. The ceremonies took place, 
 as before, on the eastern portico of the Capitol, in view of a 
 vast multitude. As Lincoln came forward to deliver his ad- 
 dress, the sun burst through the clouds, irradiating the scene 
 with splendor. His heart jumped, and with that tinge of super- 
 stition that pervaded his being, he received it as a good omen. 
 Another augury might have been found in the fact that the 
 great bronze statue of Liberty, which had stood unmounted on 
 
THE MARTYR 361 
 
 the esplanade at the first inauguration, now crowned the dome 
 of the Capitol. And so, standing bareheaded under the bril- 
 liant March sky, Lincoln delivered his second inaugural ad- 
 dress. 
 
 The diction, the "lofty tone and grand majesty of the ad- 
 dress rivaled the fire and dignity of the old Hebrew prophe- 
 cies." It was like a sacred poem, and the impression made upon 
 the people was profound. Never before had a President found 
 such words in his heart: 
 
 "With malice towards none, with charity for all, with firm- 
 ness in the right, as God gives us to see the light, let us strive 
 on to finish the work we are now in, to bind up the nation's 
 wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle and 
 for his widow and orphans, to do all which may achieve and 
 cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all 
 nations," was the wonderful conclusion. 
 
 Chief Justice Chase then administered the oath of office, 
 after which the people went from the impressive scene with 
 thankfulness that the destinies of the country were in such safe 
 keeping. 
 
 The spring came early that year of 1865, and with it came 
 glad tidings. The capture of Petersburg was announced on the 
 Third of April. A short time later, on the same day, a dispatch 
 told of the fall of Richmond. The end of the war was near. 
 The Capital was in a tumult of triumph and excitement, and 
 gave itself up to an impromptu celebration. But when, on the 
 Ninth of April, the announcement of Lee's surrender to Grant 
 was made, the city went wild with joy. The Departments were 
 closed, and a general holiday was taken. The air resounded 
 with boom of cannon and blare of martial music. But under- 
 neath all the jubilation there pervaded a deep thankfulness 
 
362 LINCOLN 
 
 that the long war was over. Peace had come at last. Govern- 
 ment clerks gathered in the great rotunda of the Treasury 
 Building, and sang "Praise God from whom all blessings 
 flow." The Secretary of War felt with the whole nation the 
 Providence of God in the result, and surrounded the dome of 
 the Capitol with a transparency, reading, "This is the Lord's 
 doings, and it is marvelous in our eyes." 
 
 Crowds thronged the streets, and poured into the White 
 House grounds, calling for Lincoln. When at length the well- 
 beloved form appeared in an upper window of the mansion, 
 and they caught sight of his sad and homely face, marred by 
 the griefs and sorrows of the people, they stretched out their 
 hands to him with cries of love and appreciation. He was one 
 of them, one of the "common people" of whom he said hu- 
 morously, "God must have loved them, because he made so 
 many of them." And because he was one of them, his face and 
 his words have come to be treasured more widely than those of 
 any other man of the ages. Now, as they called for a speech, he 
 congratulated them briefly on the grand result. 
 
 "But," he said, "I understand that there is to be a more 
 elaborate celebration later on, and I shall have nothing to say 
 then if it is all dribbled out of me now." 
 
 The crowd laughed at this, delighted with the homely say- 
 ing, and Lincoln continued: "You have a band with you, I see. 
 There is one piece of music I have always liked. Heretofore it 
 has not seemed the proper thing to use in the North ; but now, 
 by virtue of my prerogative as Commander-in-Chief of the 
 Army and Navy, I declare it contraband of war and our law- 
 ful prize. I ask the band to play 'Dixie.' " Then he proposed 
 three cheers for General Grant and the officers and men of the 
 
Lincoln and Grant in Front of the White House 
 
THE MARTYR 363 
 
 army; and three more for the officers and men of the navy. 
 These were given with good will, after which the crowd dis- 
 persed. 
 
 On the Eleventh of the month the formal celebration, to 
 which Lincoln alluded, took place, and on this occasion he made 
 the last speech he was ever to make. It was not a paean of 
 victory, which had been expected, but was mainly devoted to 
 the problems of reconstruction, a "task," he said, "fraught 
 with great difficulty." 
 
 Events followed fast upon each other. The culmination of 
 the week's rejoicing found expression at Charleston Harbor 
 where, on the Fourteenth of April, the United States flag was 
 raised again over Fort Sumter. 
 
 Lincoln was unable to be present, but he sent Colonel Nic- 
 olay as his representative. It was the fifth day after Appo- 
 mattox, and was one of unusual enjoyment to him. His son 
 Robert had returned from the field with General Grant, and 
 Lincoln spent an hour with the young soldier, discussing the 
 campaign, and his future. He denied himself generally to the 
 throng of visitors, admitting only a few friends. 
 
 General Grant, who had just arrived from Appomattox, 
 called, and Lincoln invited him to attend the Cabinet meeting 
 which was to be held that day, being Friday and its regular 
 time of meeting. Grant was anxious about Sherman, who was 
 confronted by the army of General Joseph E. Johnston in the 
 vicinity of Goldsboro, North Carolina, and expressed a desire 
 for news of him. 
 
 "I think everything is all right with General Sherman," 
 spoke Lincoln quickly. "There is a dream that I always have 
 preceding great events. I had it last night. I had it before 
 
364 LINCOLN 
 
 Antietam, before Murfreesboro, Vicksburg and Gettysburg. 
 My dream must relate to Sherman, as I know of no other im- 
 portant event that is likely to occur." 
 
 "Tell us about the dream, Mr. President," spoke Secretary 
 Seward. 
 
 "It is always the same," said Lincoln gravely. "I seem to be 
 in a singular and indescribable vessel that is moving with great 
 rapidity towards a dark and indefinite shore. A shore that it 
 never reaches, that recedes as the vessel approaches. A great 
 event has always followed its coming," he ended with that curi- 
 ous vein of mysticism which, though constantly held in check 
 by his strong common sense, formed a remarkable character- 
 istic of his nature. 
 
 His manner as he related the dream made a deep impression 
 on the members of the Cabinet. He was more cheerful and 
 happy than they had ever seen him, manifesting in marked 
 degree the kindness and humanity of his disposition. The dis- 
 cussions were broad ones of reconstructing the South, of re- 
 opening avenues of trade and reestablishing State govern- 
 ments. Throughout them Lincoln displayed a depth of charity 
 and love for his fellow men of the South such as he had never 
 before exhibited. He checked any tendency on the part of his 
 associates to be hard with the people who had been in arms 
 against him. 
 
 "We must extinguish our resentments," he said, "if we ex- 
 pect harmony and union. There is too much of a desire on the 
 part of some of our very good friends to be masters, to inter- 
 fere with, and to dictate to those States, to treat the people not 
 as fellow citizens; there is too little respect for their rights. I 
 have no sympathy with such feelings." 
 
 It was his last official utterance to his Cabinet. His charity 
 
THE MARTYR 365 
 
 for all was exemplified in a number of ways that day. In the 
 afternoon he signed a pardon for a soldier sentenced to be shot 
 for desertion. "I think the boy can do us more good above 
 ground than under it," was his comment. An application for 
 the discharge of a Confederate prisoner who wished to take 
 the oath of allegiance he indorsed, "Let it be done." 
 
 He went also for a long drive with Mrs. Lincoln. His mood 
 all day had been very happy and tender. He talked much of 
 the past and the future. What would be best for them and the 
 boys when they should finally leave the White House, at the 
 end of the second term. Mrs. Lincoln wished to visit Europe, 
 and Lincoln was undecided whether it would be best to return 
 to the old home in Springfield, or to go to California, where 
 he thought the boys might have a better start in life than in the 
 older portions of the Republic. 
 
 As President Lincoln and General Grant were the lions of 
 the day the manager of Ford's theatre had not only invited 
 them to be present that night at a benefit for Miss Laura 
 Keene, but had announced in the newspapers that they would 
 positively attend. But General Grant, who had been joined by 
 Mrs. Grant, was anxious to push on to Burlington, New Jer- 
 sey, to see his daughter who was at school there, and asked 
 Lincoln to excuse his attendance; which, of course, Lincoln 
 did. He did not care to attend himself, but rather than disap- 
 point the theatre people, for it was a gala night, he decided 
 to go. To make up a party Mrs. Lincoln invited Miss Clara 
 Harris, daughter of Senator Harris of New York, and her 
 fiance, Major Henry R. Rathbone. 
 
 The Presidential party was late in reaching the theatre, and 
 the first act was about half over. The action of the play ceased 
 as the President entered his box ; the audience rose and cheered 
 
366 LINCOLN 
 
 him enthusiastically, while the band played, "Hail to the 
 Chief." After the party was seated the play was resumed. 
 
 The theatre was one of Lincoln's few relaxations. He could 
 rest there, for he was being hounded to death by office-seekers, 
 and for two or three hours he could get relief from their pur- 
 suit. Now, as he sat with Mrs. Lincoln in the rear of the box, 
 he gave himself up to the enjoyment of the play. Suddenly, 
 during the third act as a ripple of applause died away in the 
 audience, the report of a pistol shot rang out sharply, start- 
 ling the occupants of the box. Mrs. Lincoln screamed as Lin- 
 coln's head dropped and he fell forward insensible. Major 
 Rath-bone sprang to his feet as a man, dropping his smoking 
 weapon and drawing from its sheath a long knife, rushed to- 
 wards the front of the box. The officer grappled with him, but 
 the assassin flung him aside, slashing him severely on the arm 
 with his knife. Then, placing his left hand on the railing of the 
 box, the murderer vaulted lightly to the stage. He would have 
 got safely away but for his spur catching in the folds of the 
 Union flag with which it was draped. He fell on the stage, the 
 torn flag trailing on his spur, but rose instantly as if he had 
 received no hurt, though in fact the fall had broken his leg, 
 turned to the audience, brandishing his dripping knife and 
 shouting the State motto of Virginia: 
 
 "Sic Semper Tyrannis! The South is avenged," then fled 
 rapidly across the stage and out of sight; though not before 
 many people had recognized him as John Wilkes Booth, an 
 actor. 
 
 Pale and bleeding, Major Rathbone had grabbed vainly at 
 his clothing as he was leaping over the railing; now his voice 
 mingled with the assassin's shout, "Stop that man! He has shot 
 the President." 
 
THE MARTYR 367 
 
 Then, not regarding his own grievous hurt, he rushed to the 
 door to summon aid. He found it barred, and on the outside 
 some one was beating and clamoring for entrance. He suc- 
 ceeded in opening it finally, and a young army officer followed 
 by two surgeons entered. 1 
 
 In the theatre excitement now followed the stupefaction into 
 which the swift action of the crime had thrown actors and audi- 
 ence alike. Men rushed upon the stage, and into the alley to 
 find the assassin gone. Women shrieked and fainted. The up- 
 roar was awful; the scene indescribable. 
 
 The stricken President was laid upon the floor, his head sup- 
 ported in the lap of Laura Keene, the actress, who had gone 
 into the box with water and cordials. The surgeons found the 
 wound in the head which was quickly seen to be fatal. 
 
 At first it was thought that the President might be taken to 
 the White House, but the surgeons forbade it; so, by Major 
 Rathbone's direction, he was carried across the street to the 
 nearest house, and laid upon a bed in a small room, at the rear 
 of the hall, upon the ground floor. Mrs. Lincoln followed, half- 
 distracted, tenderly cared for by Miss Harris. Rathbone ex- 
 hausted by loss of blood fainted and had to be sent home. Mes- 
 sengers were sent at once for Lincoln's sons, for the Cabinet 
 members, for the Surgeon-general, and for Doctor Stone, the 
 family physician. The little room was soon crowded by promi- 
 nent men. 
 
 There was no hope although the surgeons worked over him 
 through the night. Mrs. Lincoln, distracted and unable to con- 
 trol a grief destined eventually to unbalance her reason, sat 
 in an adjoining room, a few feet from the death chamber. Her 
 son Robert, manfully subduing his own grief, tried vainly to 
 
 i This account founded upon that of Nicolay and Hay. 
 
368 LINCOLN 
 
 comfort her. Even poor little Tad, Lincoln's idol and solace, 
 endeavored in his boyish way to soothe her, though at times so 
 overcome by his own woe that he could only sob piteously, 
 "They have shot my papa dead! They have shot my papa 
 dead!" At intervals the family crept to the bedside for one 
 more look at the loved face that was plainly marked with 
 death's seal. 
 
 The morning dawned, dark and rainy as though the very 
 skies were weeping in unison with the world-wide sorrow at 
 the passing of Lincoln. The sorrowing faces of the group about 
 the bed were scarcely less haggard than that of the dying man. 
 His breathing grew fainter and fainter; presently it ceased. A 
 look of ineffable peace spread over his features. The great 
 heart so full of mercy and tenderness was stilled forever. Abra- 
 ham Lincoln was dead. 
 
 Lincoln was dead, but the government he had died to save 
 lived on. In the unity of the nation; in the States bound to- 
 gether by bands of steel, he still lives. Dead, and yet he speaks. 
 From the hillside of Gettysburg we still hear the immortal 
 words : 
 
 "Let us here highly resolve, that this nation under God, 
 shall have a new birth of freedom; and that a government of 
 the people, by the people, and for the people shall not perish 
 from the earth." 
 

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