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 LINCOLN ROOM 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 MEMORIAL 
 
 the Class of 1901 
 
 ^ founded by 
 
 HARLAN HOYT HORNER 
 and 
 HENRIETTA CALHOUN HORNER 

 
 w 
 
 ie old Corner Book 
 
 Store, Inc. 
 L_x— . Mass.
 
 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 A STORY AND A PLAY 
 BY 
 
 MARY HAZELTON WADE 
 
 Author of the Little Cousin books, etc. 
 
 RICHARD G. BADGER 
 
 THE GORHAM PRESS 
 BOSTON
 
 Copyright, 19x4, by Richard G. Badger 
 
 All Rights Reserved 
 
 The Gorham Press, Boston, U. S. A.
 
 
 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 A STORY 
 
 AND 
 
 A PLAY
 
 THE STORY
 
 THE STORY OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 THROUGHOUT the United States, 
 boys and girls take delight in cele- 
 brating the twelfth of February. It is 
 because on that day the great and good 
 man, Abraham Lincoln, first opened his eyes on 
 this world. 
 
 The home to which the baby came was poor 
 and bare. It was a tiny cabin in the state of Ken- 
 tucky, which was then a rough, unsettled coun- 
 try. Around the cabin were thick woods where 
 wild animals roamed freely. The cry of cata- 
 mounts and the howling of wolves could be 
 heard in the stillness of the night. Turkeys and 
 deer often ran across the path of the settlers. 
 There were few neighbors, for only brave peo- 
 ple were as yet willing to venture so far into the 
 backwoods. 
 
 Only a short time before there was constant 
 danger from the Indians, who were likely to at- 
 tack the white people at any moment. Abra- 
 ham's own grandfather was killed by one of these 
 
 7
 
 8 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 savages while he was busy with his two older 
 sons making a clearing about his home. The 
 youngest son, Thomas, who was afterwards 
 Abraham's father, was playing near them. 
 When their father fell, the older boys ran off to 
 get help, telling Thomas to watch his father's 
 dead body. 
 
 As soon as the child was left alone, the Indian, 
 who was hiding near by, saw his chance. Terri- 
 ble in his war paint, he crept up towards the child 
 and was about to seize him and carry him away, 
 when one of the brothers came hurrying back. 
 Whiz flew a bullet from his rifle ! The savage 
 fell dead and the boy was safe. 
 
 In this kind of life, so full of danger, the boy 
 Thomas grew up. There was no school where he 
 could learn to read and write. The days were 
 spent out of doors, cutting down the trees of the 
 forest near by, hunting wild animals, and tending 
 the little garden. 
 
 When Thomas became a young man he mar- 
 ried a girl named Nancy Hanks who had been 
 brought up in better circumstances than he. She 
 had been to school, and though she had always 
 lived in the "backwoods," she had the gentle and 
 beautiful nature of a true lady.
 
 THE STORY 9 
 
 In the new home where she went to live with 
 her husband, the young wife did not have the 
 comforts to which we are used. There were no 
 carpets to spread over the rough unpainted floor 
 and only a few pieces of homemade furniture. 
 The cooking was done before a big fireplace from 
 which the burning logs gave the only light after 
 the sun had set. 
 
 After Abraham's sister was born, the family 
 moved to a different place, called Rock Spring 
 Farm. The country around was quite beautiful, 
 and near the cabin, half hidden by a clump of 
 trees and bushes, was a deep spring of clear wa- 
 ter. On this farm the little Abraham first saw 
 the light, and here he lived until he was seven 
 years old. 
 
 In the woods near by he could watch the squir- 
 rels and rabbits at play. There was the spring 
 close at hand with its song of gladness; there 
 were berries to pick and nuts to gather. Yet the 
 little boy must often have been lonely, since he 
 had few playfellows. Then, when night came, 
 there was no cosy, cheerful home with its bright 
 light to welcome him— only a small, dark cabin 
 with its bare walls and floor, and a hard bed un- 
 der the roof, through whose cracks the rain could
 
 io ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 beat down on the child's face below. 
 
 Abraham could not have been happy in those 
 days. Afterwards, when he became a man, he 
 seldom spoke of them, even to his dearest friends. 
 There was a small school-house not far from 
 the farm, and here Abraham and his sister learned 
 their a-b-e's. Afterwards, they went for a short 
 time to another school four miles away. 
 
 Abraham's father was "easy going" as people 
 say. He liked talking with his friends and 
 dreaming dreams better than hard work. Stories 
 came to him of a richer country in Indiana where 
 he might have a better farm. 
 
 "I will go there and look the country over," 
 he said to his wife. It was a long ways off, but 
 as he was a good carpenter he decided to make 
 a flat boat on which he could float down Knob 
 Creek, which was only a short way from his 
 home. Then, moving from one river to another, 
 he would at last reach Indiana. 
 
 The boat was soon made and Mr. Lincoln 
 started out on his journey. When he reached the 
 new country he was much pleased, and there, in 
 the midst of a forest, he decided upon the place 
 for a home. He would return at once for his 
 family. He could not float his flatboat up stream,
 
 THE STORY n 
 
 however. So sold it to a settler near by, and 
 started on foot for Kentucky. 
 
 At this time Abraham was seven years old and 
 his sister Sarah was nine. Like all other chil- 
 dren, they were probably pleased when their 
 father got back and told of the new home which 
 they were to seek in Indiana. They could not 
 walk all the way, because the country was too 
 rough and wild. But the father got two horses 
 on which the children and their mother rode dur- 
 ing the first part of the journey. 
 
 Towards the end they travelled in a farm 
 wagon which Mr. Lincoln hired from one of the 
 settlers along the way. At last they reached a 
 stretch of thick forest, and there in its midst they 
 made ready to settle. Winter was near and shel- 
 ter must be put up at once. Abraham's father 
 set to work and built what is called a half-faced 
 camp. That is, the house had only three sides. 
 The fourth was left open. 
 
 There was no floor, neither were there win- 
 dows or chimney, and the wind and rain were 
 free to beat their way inside. For about a year 
 this was the only home that the family had. 
 
 Abraham was tall and strong for his age, and 
 he worked hard, helping his father clear the land
 
 12 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 for a farm. From morning till night his long 
 arms were busy felling the trees or ploughing 
 the ground for a garden. When his mother 
 needed meal for making bread, the boy would 
 fill some bags with corn, and then carry it on 
 horseback to the mill seven miles away, to have 
 it ground. 
 
 By the end of the year the boy had helped his 
 father make a better home than the poor half- 
 faced camp, but even now there were neither win- 
 dows nor door nor floor. Soon afterwards Abra- 
 ham's mother, who had borne so many hardships, 
 suddenly became very ill. 
 
 There was no doctor at hand to save her, and 
 she died, leaving her two children with their 
 father to get along as best they could. How 
 deeply Abraham had loved this tender mother, 
 who had already done so much for him! He 
 never forgot her, and whenever he spoke of her 
 afterwards his voice grew soft and tender. He 
 called her his "angel mother." 
 
 After she died, Abraham's sister Sarah, who 
 was then only eleven years old, became the house- 
 keeper. She cooked and sewed for her father 
 and brother as best she could. It must have been 
 hard work for the poor child, and she was prob-
 
 THE STORY 13 
 
 ably glad when the next year her father went back 
 to Kentucky, to marry a widow whom he had 
 known in her girlhood. 
 
 School Days 
 
 The new stepmother brought a large wagon- 
 load of furniture and clothing to her Indiana 
 home. One of the pieces was a bureau which had 
 cost fifty dollars. It must have seemed very won- 
 derful to Abraham and Sarah, who had been 
 used to rough homemade furniture all their lives. 
 
 When Mrs. Lincoln looked around her new 
 home she said she would not be satisfied until a 
 floor had been laid. The house must also have 
 windows and a door. When these had been at- 
 tended to, and the furniture set in place, Abra- 
 ham was more comfortable than he had ever been 
 in his life. 
 
 The stepmother had a loving heart, and though 
 she had three children of her own, she trtated 
 Abraham and Sarah very kindly and did all she 
 could to make them happy. 
 
 "Even if we live in these backwoods, they 
 must have book learning," she declared. "They 
 shall not grow up ignorant."
 
 i 4 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 There was a small schoolhouse not far away, 
 and soon after the stepmother had taken charge 
 of the family, the children began to go to school. 
 There they studied "readin', writin' and ci- 
 pherinV 
 
 There were few books in the school, and 
 neither paper nor ink, as it was nearly impossi- 
 ble for people living in the midst of the forest to 
 get such things. The school-house itself was 
 small and dark. When the door was closed the 
 only light came through squares of greased paper, 
 which were used instead of glass for windows. 
 
 The benches where the children sat were logs 
 split in halves and set up on legs. Yet Abraham 
 was so glad to get a chance to learn, that he was 
 happy during the short time he was able to go 
 to this school. He loved his studies so much, 
 that after working hard on the farm all day, he 
 used every spare minute of the evening reading 
 the few books he was able to borrow from his 
 neighbors, or doing "sums" with bits of charcoal 
 on the wooden fire shovel. 
 
 There were no lamps nor candles in the house. 
 The boy, however, would stretch out on the floor 
 before the fireplace, and by the light of the burn- 
 ings logs, he managed to do his sums and his
 
 THE STORY 15 
 
 reading. Abraham's stepmother soon discov- 
 ered that he had a bright mind and she encour- 
 aged him to study. She loved him dearly, for he 
 was as thoughtful and kindhearted and truthful 
 as he was eager to learn. 
 
 "Abe never gave me a cross word or look. I 
 must say Abe was the best boy I ever saw or ex- 
 pect to see," she said afterwards. 
 
 When Abraham was fourteen years old he 
 went for a short time to another school, and again 
 when he was nearly seventeen. This last was 
 four or five miles away, but it was better than any 
 of the others. Here the boy had a chance to use 
 pen and ink, and was given a copy-book in which 
 to write. 
 
 The teacher had been "out in the world." So, 
 with the other studies, he taught these backwood 
 pupils what he called "manners." He showed 
 them how to enter a room filled with people. He 
 trained the boys in taking off their hats and 
 bowing politely to the girls when they met them. 
 
 "How much our teacher knows!" thought the 
 pupils, and though they were awkward, they tried 
 their best to follow the master's directions. 
 When Abraham afterwards left his country home 
 and went to live in a city, he was probably very
 
 1 6 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 glad of the "manners" he learned that winter. 
 
 There were other things which he enjoyed 
 greatly in this last school. One of them was the 
 Friday "speaking," when the boys and girls took 
 their turns in standing up before the class and 
 recited the "pieces" they had learned. Then 
 there were compositions. At one time Abraham 
 wrote on "Cruelty to Animals." His tender 
 heart could not bear to have dumb creatures suf- 
 fer. Still another of his compositions was on 
 "Temperance." One of the neighbors admired 
 this so much that he had it printed in a news- 
 paper. 
 
 Abraham never had another chance to attend 
 school. Altogether he spent less than one year 
 in a school-room, yet "between times" he taught 
 himself as best he could, borrowing every neigh- 
 bor's book he could get. 
 
 This borrowing once got him into sad trouble. 
 Abraham was working for a rich man named 
 Crawford. During the day he split rails, 
 ploughed and took care of the cattle. He some- 
 times helped in the house, too, and even tended 
 the baby for Mrs. Crawford, who was very kind 
 to him and loaned him books, which he read after 
 he went to bed at night.
 
 THE STORY 17 
 
 One evening when Abraham had finished read- 
 ing, he tucked the book away between the logs 
 in the wall beside his bed, as he usually did when 
 he was ready for sleep. Before morning a storm 
 arose, and he woke up to find the book drenched 
 through from the rain which had made its way 
 through the chinks of the wall. 
 
 When he took it back, Mr. Crawford said, "I 
 won't accept such a book. You may keep it, but 
 you must pay for it by pulling fodder." Abra- 
 ham felt quite bitter that a wealthy man like Mr. 
 Crawford should be so hard upon him, a poor 
 boy. But he set to work, and in three days he 
 earned his first book. It was Weem's "Life of 
 Washington." 
 
 For weeks afterwards Abraham spent all his 
 spare time in reading and rereading his precious 
 book. Over and over again he followed Wash- 
 ington through the brave adventures of his youth 
 and the battles in which he dared so much. 
 
 While Abraham was poring over the life of 
 the "Father of his Country," the boy little 
 dreamed that he himself would become the wise, 
 "Big Brother." Yes, it would be through his 
 love and foresight that America would be saved, 
 and her people kept together in one great family.
 
 1 8 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 "Robinson Crusoe," "Aesop's Fables," "Pil- 
 grim's Progress" and a "History of the United 
 States" were also great favorites with Abraham. 
 He came to know them almost by heart. Then, 
 of course, there was the Bible, which he had 
 learned to love when a tiny, little fellow. His 
 own mother had often read it to him before he 
 was old enough to study it for himself. 
 
 Much as Abraham liked to read, he was also 
 fond of sports. He ran races, he took part in 
 wrestling matches, and when there was a husking- 
 bee or a house-raising, there he was to be found, 
 the merriest, happiest one of the whole company. 
 He was such a big, strong fellow, six feet four 
 inches tall before he was twenty years old, that 
 he could outstrip his fellows in everything he 
 tried. 
 
 No one around could chop wood or split rail 
 so fast as Abraham Lincoln. No other man could 
 lift so big a weight as he, or equal him in wrest- 
 ling. But he was not satisfied with doing these 
 things. He was just as eager to be a fine story 
 teller, to be a clear writer, and to argue so well 
 that everyone who listened would be forced to 
 agree with him. He soon became the wonder of 
 the whole country side, and people would gather
 
 THE STORY 19 
 
 about him whenever they had a chance to listen to 
 his stories and speeches. 
 
 Though he went to school for such a short 
 time, and though there were so few books that 
 he could get hold of, yet Abraham was constantly 
 learning in other ways. People from other 
 places passed through the country from time to 
 time, and the boy listened eagerly to their stories. 
 
 He would often repeat these stories to himself 
 when he was alone. Then, between his father 
 and his men friends there were talks to which 
 Abraham gave close attention, hoping to learn 
 something he did not already know. Most ex- 
 citing of all was what he heard at the court-house 
 in the town fifteen miles away. He did not con- 
 sider the long walk through the woods, but when- 
 ever it was possible for him to leave his work 
 for the day, he would set out for the town with 
 long, swinging steps. 
 
 When he arrived at the court-house he was sure 
 to be rewarded. Men and women were tried there 
 for wrong-doing, and they were often defended 
 by great lawyers who had come from the cities 
 far away. Abraham listened carefully to the 
 speeches which he stored away in his mind. At 
 such times the log-house in the backwoods, the
 
 20 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 hum-drum ploughing and wood chopping were 
 forgotten, for the young fellow was living in 
 thought in the big, outside world. 
 
 After such days in court, Abraham could of- 
 ten be seen standing in the middle of the field, 
 when he should have been at work, repeating the 
 speeches he had heard to a crowd of neighbors. 
 So well did he speak, that they, too, forgot the 
 work in hand, and were carried far away from 
 their backwood's home. 
 
 Now, in the books Abraham read, and in the 
 talks and speeches he heard, there were words 
 whose meaning he did not know, and expressions 
 that were not clear. Then he was much troubled. 
 He would spend a long time thinking over the 
 matter and trying to understand. 
 
 At such times he would say to himself some- 
 thing like this, "Whenever I speak to others, no 
 matter what the subject may be, it shall be said 
 so clearly and simply, that every one will under- 
 stand me." 
 
 He kept his word. In the great speeches he 
 afterwards made— speeches which stirred the 
 hearts of all who heard them and which will live 
 forever, his words were so clear and simple that 
 everyone could understand.
 
 THE STORY 21 
 
 Out in the World 
 
 As Abraham grew up, more and more people 
 came to his part of the country to settle. A vil- 
 lage called Gentryville grew up a mile or so from 
 the Lincoln home. In the general store there, 
 Abraham was clerk for a whole winter. Every 
 evening and Saturday afternoons, this store was 
 a gathering-place for all the men of the country 
 side. They talked politics, told stories, and read 
 aloud from the weekly newspapers, so the young 
 clerk learned much at this time about what was 
 going on in the world outside. 
 
 Mr. Gentry, the owner of the store, took a 
 great liking to his young clerk, and gave him a 
 chance to see something of that outside world. 
 He loaded a flat boat with corn, flour, bacon and 
 other things raised in the country near by, and 
 gave it into the charge of Abraham and his son 
 Allen. They were to go down the Ohio and Mis- 
 sissippi Rivers and sell the goods to the owners 
 of the plantations where sugar and cotton were 
 raised by negro slaves. He promised Abraham 
 eight dollars a month, besides paying his fare 
 home on a steamboat. 
 
 This seemed a large sum of money to the 
 young man; besides, he was glad of the chance
 
 22 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 to travel and to see new sights. While Abraham 
 and his friend Allen were away, they had an ex- 
 citing adventure. One dark night, after they had 
 drawn the flat boat up to the shore to rest till morn- 
 ing, seven negroes made a sudden attack. They 
 meant to kill the young men, and then steal the 
 cargo of goods. 
 
 But Abraham and Allen managed to defend 
 themselves, though they were both hurt before 
 they were able to drive off the negroes and get 
 the boat safely out into the middle of the stream. 
 
 The money which Abraham earned at this time 
 seemed a large sum to him. But it could not have 
 been so precious as what came to him the year 
 before when he was plying a ferry at Anderson's 
 Creek. One day two men came hurrying down 
 to the landing and engaged Abraham to carry 
 them and their trunks out into the river to meet a 
 passing steamer. 
 
 When the work was done and the men were 
 about to step on board the steamer, each one 
 handed him a half-dollar. He could hardly be- 
 lieve his eyes. He was, for the first time, the 
 owner of a whole dollar, and for a small task 
 which had taken less than half a day! It seemed 
 too good to be true.
 
 THE STORY 23 
 
 A New Home 
 
 When Abraham was twenty-one years old, his 
 father decided to move once more. He learned 
 that farther west in Illinois, there was rich prairie 
 land where it would be easy to make a comfort- 
 able home. Two other families decided to go 
 with the Lincolns. Heavy ox-carts were loaded 
 with furniture and supplies, and the party started 
 out with hearts full of hope. 
 
 Abraham carried with him thirty dollars' worth 
 of "notions," which he sold for such good prices 
 to the settlers along the way, that by the end of 
 the journey he had gained thirty dollars by his 
 sales. 
 
 As they travelled along, a small thing hap- 
 pened which showed Abraham's tender heart 
 even for dumb creatures. The party had to cross 
 an icy stream, and when they reached the other 
 side they found that a dog had been left behind. 
 It stood on the shore crying pitifully. Should it 
 be allowed to stay there and starve? 
 
 "Indeed not," declared Abraham. He hur- 
 riedly drew off his shoes, waded across the 
 stream, and was soon on his way back with the 
 dog under his arm. The poor little creature was 
 now so happy that Lincoln said afterwards he
 
 24 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 was more than paid for his trouble. 
 
 After Abraham helped the family get settled 
 in the new home, he went on to the village of 
 New Salem, where he became the clerk of a 
 man named Offut. He was so kind and merry 
 and told such good stories, that people liked to 
 come to the store for the sake of talking with 
 him, just as the folks of Gentryville had done. 
 Besides this, they found he was so honest, that 
 they could trust him in the smallest matters. 
 
 Now it happened, that one night after Abra- 
 ham had closed the store, he counted up the 
 money he had received, and found he had six 
 cents too much. He was troubled, and thought 
 about it for a long time. At last he remembered 
 how it must have come about. He had given the 
 wrong change to a certain woman. 
 
 He hastened to lock up the store, and started 
 at once for the woman's house three miles away. 
 As soon as he arrived there, he handed her the 
 six cents, telling her he had made a mistake. 
 Then, happy once more, he went home, caring 
 little for the long walk, since he had done what 
 was right. It is not strange that such things as 
 this soon won for him the name of "Honest 
 Abe."
 
 THE STORY 25 
 
 While Abraham was working for Mr. Offut, 
 he was sent on another flat-boat expedition down 
 the Mississippi. He carried bacon, flour and 
 other things raised on the farms near by, and 
 traded them oft to the plantations along the river, 
 just as he had done before. This time, however, 
 he travelled as far as New Orleans, where he 
 saw something that seemed very terrible. It was 
 an auction of slaves. Little children were taken 
 from their mothers' arms and sold as so many 
 pieces of furniture. Women were parted from 
 their husbands. The young man was deeply trou- 
 bled at the sad sight. He said to himself, "In this 
 great and beautiful country of America, it is 
 dreadful that there should be such a thing as 
 slavery." 
 
 Captain Abraham Lincoln 
 
 Two years after Abraham went to live in New 
 Salem a war broke out. It was between the 
 white men and their red neighbors. A great chief 
 named Black Hawk entered Illinois with his 
 braves and led them in several terrible massacres 
 against the white people. The settlers fled from 
 their homes in fright, and an army was raised to
 
 26 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 rout the Indians. 
 
 By this time young Lincoln had become a 
 great favorite in his part of the country, and he 
 was chosen captain of a company of soldiers who 
 had enlisted in the war. He was delighted at 
 the honor, because it showed how much he was 
 liked. He said afterwards that it gave him more 
 pleasure than anything which befell him in later 
 life. 
 
 Now it happened that the war came to an end 
 before Lincoln's company was called upon to do 
 any fighting, but the men were in camp for sev- 
 eral months, where they were drilled daily and 
 stood ready to fight if called upon. They had 
 much spare time, however, in which they ran 
 races, had jumping and wrestling matches and 
 other sports, and Abraham enjoyed the good-na- 
 tured companionship of so many young men. 
 
 Though they had not gone to the front, and 
 had taken part in no fighting with the red men, 
 they often talked together about the fearful mass- 
 acres of which they heard. More and more they 
 hated the Indians and felt a longing to destroy 
 them. One day, as some of them were talking to- 
 gether about this very matter, an old Indian, poor 
 and feeble, came walking into the camp.
 
 THE STORY 27 
 
 "A spy!" the soldiers shouted, and they 
 rushed upon him. They felt such hate for all 
 Indians that now, when one of these savages 
 stood in their midst, they were eager to kill him 
 without giving him a chance to speak for him- 
 self. 
 
 Their frightened prisoner drew out a bit of 
 paper and held it up. It was a pass from Gen- 
 eral Cass saying the Indian was honest, and a 
 friend of the white men. 
 
 "Perhaps General Cass did not write the pass," 
 said one of the soldiers. 
 
 They hated the Indians so much, they did not 
 wish to lose the chance of killing one of them 
 now that they had him in their power, so they 
 were quite ready to believe that the pass was not 
 a true one. 
 
 "Shoot him!" cried one after another. 
 
 Several guns were aimed at the shivering old 
 creature, and in another instant he would have 
 been killed, when suddenly Captain Lincoln stood 
 in front of his men, with stern face and flashing 
 eyes. Rushing between them and the Indian, he 
 cried out: 
 
 "Hold on! I command you not to fire." At 
 the same moment he knocked up the guns that
 
 28 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 were pointed at the body of the red man. The 
 men were so angry, however, that they were not 
 willing to obey the order of their captain. 
 
 u Are you soldiers, and yet willing to kill a poor 
 old man who cannot defend himself? You would 
 bring disgrace upon your country by such a cow- 
 ardly deed!" cried Lincoln, in ringing tones. 
 His eyes were fairly blazing as he spoke. 
 
 "He's a spy!" answered one of the men. 
 
 "If it be true," said Lincoln, "he must die. 
 But till it is proved, any one who attempts 
 to kill him, must settle with me. I am ready to 
 fight it out with each one of you. In the mean- 
 time, disband." 
 
 The men, with deep scowls, lowered their guns 
 and turned away. Lincoln was left alone with 
 the Indian. He examined the pass and saw that 
 it was a true one. 
 
 "You are free," he said to the old man. Too 
 grateful to answer in words, the Indian knelt 
 down and kissed the feet of the young captain. 
 
 After the War 
 
 When the Black Hawk War came to an end, 
 Lincoln went back to New Salem, reaching his
 
 THE STORY 29 
 
 home just ten days before the time to elect men 
 for the state legislature. 
 
 He was, as we know, a great favorite in the 
 town. "Why not let the people use my name for 
 representative?" he thought. "I shall lose noth- 
 ing if I fail to be elected." 
 
 His many frends were pleased, and when the 
 election day came, all the men in New Salem ex- 
 cept three voted for "Abe." The rest of the dis- 
 trict, however, favored another man more strong- 
 ly, and Lincoln lost the election. What should 
 he do now? He had no money and no work. 
 Mr. Offut, who had been a true friend, had failed 
 and given up his business. 
 
 "Shall I become a blacksmith or a lawyer?" 
 thought Lincoln. His long, strong arms were 
 well fitted for a blacksmith's trade. But then 
 there was the bright, quick mind which must be 
 kept busy. 
 
 "I will be a lawyer," Lincoln finally decided. 
 
 Yet he did not know enough to practice law. 
 He must study a great deal before he could carry 
 out his wish, but after much thinking he planned 
 how to bring it about. 
 
 "I will keep a store," he said to himself. 
 "There I will have enough spare time to study
 
 3 o ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 law. When I have learned enough, I can be a 
 lawyer." 
 
 He got another man named Berry for a part- 
 ner, and they started out with great hopes. Lin- 
 coln had the time he wished for study, and every 
 spare moment was spent poring over some law 
 books he had found in the bottom of a barrel of 
 rubbish, which another man who needed the 
 money had sold him for a half-dollar. 
 
 He kept these books close at hand, so that 
 the instant a customer left the store, he could 
 go back to his studies, if only for five or ten 
 minutes. To most people these books would seem 
 very tiresome, but to Lincoln they were wonder- 
 fully interesting. 
 
 In the meantime the town of New Salem was 
 growing smaller every day, and there were fewer 
 and fewer people to trade at the store. Besides, 
 Mr. Berry showed himself of little worth. In a 
 short time the business failed, and Lincoln found 
 himself with a large debt which it took years to 
 pay. He afterwards laughingly called it his "Na- 
 tional Debt." 
 
 When the store was given up, Lincoln did any 
 kind of work he could get. Yet he still kept up 
 his study of the law, carrying a book with him
 
 THE STORY 31 
 
 wherever he went, reading as he walked along the 
 street, or whenever he could rest a moment from 
 rail-splitting or farming. 
 
 At this time he took great pleasure in read- 
 ing the plays of William Shakespeare, as well as 
 his law books. One day he received some good 
 news. He had been made a surveyor of lands. 
 It was the very work that George Washington 
 had done so well when a young man. Lincoln 
 was delighted. He was to be paid three dollars 
 a day, and this seemed a large sum. 
 
 But he knew little about surveying. What did 
 that matter? He would set to work and learn 
 the business at once. So he went to the school- 
 master, who gave him all the help he needed dur- 
 ing the next few weeks to make him a good sur- 
 veyor. A short time after this he was made post- 
 master, but the town was so small and there were 
 so few letters, that Lincoln often carried them 
 about in his hat. 
 
 Lincoln the Lawyer 
 
 Mr. Lincoln was now twenty-five years old. 
 He had been farm hand, rail-splitter, carpenter, 
 clerk, ferryman, soldier, storekeeper, surveyor and
 
 32 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 postmaster. Still, down deep in his heart was 
 the longing to be a lawyer, which had been there 
 ever since he was a boy. 
 
 He was very poor, and his debt must be paid; 
 yet he would not give up the idea of becoming a 
 lawyer, and a great one, too. And now some- 
 thing happened which was of great help in carry- 
 ing out his wish. He gained the place in the 
 legislature he had failed to win two years 
 before. It was because not only the people of 
 New Salem, but of all that part of the country, 
 now had faith in "Honest old Abe." 
 
 This was the beginning of a new life to the 
 backwoods man. As he took his place in the 
 state house with other law-makers, no one noticed 
 him particularly. He was homely and awkward, 
 with a sad face and a quiet manner. But his mind 
 was full of fire and his heart beat with a steady 
 love of the right. In a little while people would 
 discover that this was no common man, and that 
 a hero was moving among them. 
 
 Mr. Lincoln staid in the legislature for eight 
 years. During that time he finished his study of 
 the law and started out in business for himself. 
 He was still very poor, and as people were often 
 slow in seeking help from a new lawyer, he won-
 
 THE STORY 33 
 
 dered how he should manage to pay his way for 
 the first few months. 
 
 With a brave heart, however, he decided to try 
 his fortune in Springfield. He travelled there on 
 horseback, carrying his few clothes in two saddle 
 bags. As soon as he reached the city he went 
 to the store of Mr. Speed, one of his friends, and 
 asked him the cost of a bedstead and its furnish- 
 ings. 
 
 "Seventeen dollars," was the answer. 
 
 Lincoln replied that though the price might 
 be cheap, he did not have money enough to buy 
 one. 
 
 "If you will trust me till Christmas time," he 
 said, "I will pay you then." "That is," he added, 
 "if I succeed as a lawyer." 
 
 "But suppose you do not succeed?" Mr. Speed 
 answered. 
 
 Lincoln's face became very sad. "If I fail, 
 I don't know when I can pay you." As he spoke 
 his voice was as sorrowful as his face. 
 
 "But there is a way out of having any debt at 
 all, "his friend now suggested. "I have a large 
 room up stairs with two beds in it. You are 
 welcome to share the room with me." 
 
 A moment afterwards Lincoln, armed with his
 
 34 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 saddle bags, was on his way up the stairs, as joy- 
 ful as he had been sad before. Leaving them in 
 the middle of the floor, he ran down again, crying 
 out: 
 
 "Well, Speed, I'm moved." 
 
 Another friend offered to give him his board 
 free, so he managed to get along till he could 
 earn his own living. It was not long before the 
 people began to praise the wise and clever 
 speeches of the new lawyer. Besides, they hon- 
 ored him for his honesty and kindness. He was 
 unlike many lawyers. 
 
 He was not willing to work for a man if he 
 thought him in the wrong. But if he believed 
 that man had been treated unjustly, he did not 
 count the time and thought spent in winning the 
 case. Moreover, he worked just as willingly for 
 a person who was too poor to pay him, as he did 
 for the rich man who could give him a large sum 
 of money. Always and everywhere it was the 
 right that interested Abraham Lincoln. 
 
 In those days lawyers went about the country 
 to attend court in different places. They usually 
 travelled on horseback, for there were few rail- 
 roads. On one of these trips Lincoln went with 
 a party of other lawyers. As they entered a
 
 THE STORY 35 
 
 narrow lane they were obliged to go two by two. 
 Lincoln and his friend, Mr. Hardin, happened 
 to be the last ones. Suddenly Lincoln stopped. 
 He had spied two baby birds beside the road. 
 The wind had blown the helpless little creatures 
 out of their nest in some tree top. 
 
 In another moment Lincoln had sprung from 
 his horse and was busy hunting about for the 
 nest. Mr. Hardin went on, and catching up with 
 the rest of the party, he told them what his friend 
 was doing. When Lincoln afterwards joined 
 them, they laughed at him, but this did not trou- 
 ble him in the least. 
 
 He only said, "I could not have slept if I had 
 not restored those little birds to their mother." 
 
 Though his mind was now busy with hard 
 law problems, his heart was as tender as ever for 
 all helpless creatures, no matter how unimportant 
 they might seem to others. 
 
 Children were always very dear to Mr. Lin- 
 coln. No matter how busy he might be, he could 
 always take time to help a child who was in trou- 
 ble. One day he was on the way to his office, 
 when he noticed a little girl standing on the side- 
 walk in front of her home. She was crying bit- 
 terly. He stopped to ask what was the matter.
 
 36 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 "I shall miss the train," she sobbed. "The ex- 
 pressman hasn't come for my trunk." 
 
 "That is too bad," Lincoln answered, at the 
 same time gently patting her head. "Tell me, my 
 child, where you were going." 
 
 "To visit my aunt. And a little frind of mine 
 was to go with me, and I have never been on the 
 cars in my life, — and O dear! my friend is prob- 
 ably at the station waiting for me now." 
 
 At this thought she began to cry afresh. Mr. 
 Lincoln's tender heart was touched. 
 
 "How big is the trunk?" he asked. "If it isn't 
 too big, there is time enough." 
 
 As he spoke he made his way up to the door 
 of the house, where the child's mother was stand- 
 ing. She led the way inside and pointed out the 
 trunk. It was a small one. Lincoln lifted it 
 easily to his strong shoulders, at the same time 
 bidding the little girl to wipe her eyes. 
 
 "Come, quick, and I guess we can catch the 
 train," he said cheerily. 
 
 With the child by his side, he strode down the 
 street. They were still some distance from the 
 station when they heard the train coming. 
 
 "Take my hand, little one, we'll get there yet," 
 Lincoln told the child. With the trunk still on his
 
 THE STORY 37 
 
 shoulder, and the girl's tiny hand clasped tightly 
 in his own big, strong one, the station was 
 reached before the train pulled out. 
 
 As the young lawyer put his little charge on 
 board, he kissed her good-bye, saying, "Now have 
 a real good time." 
 
 Lincoln had not practiced law very long be- 
 fore the best people of Springfield began to in- 
 vite him to their homes. He was still "poor as a 
 church mouse," but he was so bright and clever, 
 and such a good story teller, that no gathering 
 seemed a success without him. 
 
 And so Honest Abe, the backwoods rail-split- 
 ter, was now often the manager of a dance, or 
 the chief speaker at a dinner party. 
 
 At this time he became acquainted with a Miss 
 Mary Todd, a handsome and witty young girl, 
 who had come from Kentucky to visit her mar- 
 ried sister. She chose Mr. Lincoln out of the 
 many young men in Springfield who admired her, 
 and the two were married when Lincoln was 
 thirty-three years old. 
 
 He was still so poor that he could not afford 
 to set up house-keeping, so he and his young wife 
 went to board for a while at a cheap tavern, where 
 their food and room together cost only four dol-
 
 38 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 lars a week. 
 
 The fame of the young lawyer was now grow- 
 ing fast, and more people sought his services 
 every year. The time came when a man was will- 
 ing to pay five thousand dollars for his help in a 
 single case. How different this was from those 
 first days in Springfield, when Lincoln was sat- 
 isfied to receive a fee of five dollars. 
 
 No matter how large a sum was offered, how- 
 ever, he was never willing to help anyone who 
 seemed to be in the wrong. Nor was he ever too 
 busy to aid those who had been his friends in his 
 early days of sadness and struggle. 
 
 In this time of success, he was able to repay the 
 kindness of the Armstrong family who had been 
 good to him when he was a poor clerk in New 
 Salem. Many a time Mrs. Armstrong had been 
 as tender as a mother when he was poor and 
 homeless. And now her son Jack was accused of 
 murder, and the trouble was breaking her heart, 
 Lincoln used his bright mind to defend the fellow. 
 When the trial came, he spoke with such feeling 
 that the hearts of all who listened were deeply 
 touched. More than this,— his wise words proved 
 that young Armstrong was innocent and he was 
 set free.
 
 THE STORY 39 
 
 During the years in which Mr. Lincoln was 
 practicing law, he heard much about slavery. 
 Some of the states believed it to be right, and 
 others declared it was wrong. Lincoln still felt 
 as he did when as a young man he had seen a 
 slave auction in New Orleans. He thought of- 
 ten of the words in the Declaration of Independ- 
 ence, "All men are created equal." 
 
 And yet he would say to himself, "Americans 
 hold slaves." 
 
 Whenever he spoke of slavery in public he 
 gave such good reasons against it, that all who 
 heard him were moved. Now there was a cer- 
 tain senator of the United States, whom Lin- 
 coln had known when he first started out in 
 Springfield as a lawyer. This man, Stephen A. 
 Douglas, had become famous throughout the 
 country, and had won for himself the name of 
 "The Little Giant." 
 
 Mr. Douglas believed so strongly that slavery 
 was just, he succeeded in winning the right to 
 own slaves for two states where they had not 
 been held before. Just after he had done this 
 he came back to his old home in Springfield, and 
 made a great speech there defending slavery. 
 
 Lincoln answered this speech so well, that he
 
 4 o ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 won the greatest praise for himself. After this 
 Mr. Douglas made other speeches, but every one 
 was followed by a still greater one from Lincoln. 
 It seemed almost laughable when people thought 
 about it; here was this backwoodsman, a man of 
 only a few months' schooling, holding his own 
 against the polished gentleman of fine education. 
 The railsplitter standing up against the "Little 
 Giant 1" 
 
 A more wonderful thing was yet to happen. 
 The time soon came for Douglas to run again for 
 the United States Senate. And Abraham Lincoln 
 was chosen to run against him ! Then it was that 
 Lincoln's friends made plans for a debate between 
 the two men. Seven meetings were taken up with 
 this debate. So nobly did Lincoln speak, so 
 grandly did he stand for right and justice, that 
 the whole country now rang with his praise. He 
 had suddenly become a leader and master of men. 
 
 As it happened, however, he was not made 
 senator, but Douglas was again elected. If Lin- 
 coln had worked in a certain way, this would not 
 have happened, but he had begun to look ahead. 
 He wished to be chosen President of the United 
 States ! To do this, he thought it would be wis- 
 est to let Douglas win the election for senator.
 
 THE STORY 41 
 
 He planned rightly, for two years afterwards, 
 in the year i860, his dream came true. 
 
 The rail-splitter, Abraham Lincoln, who had 
 spent less than one year in a school-room, was 
 chosen by the people of the United States to be 
 their next President. The child, born in a rough 
 log cabin, who had lived in his early days in a 
 two-faced camp, had by his own will reached the 
 highest place his country could give him. 
 
 Henceforth it was for him to guide, not one 
 small body of men, not one state, but the whole 
 United States. When the news came to Mr. Lin- 
 coln, he said quietly, "There's a little woman who 
 would like to hear this. I will go and tell her." 
 
 With these words he left his friends and went 
 home to let his wife hear what had happened. 
 Many, many years ago,— when her husband was 
 poor and little known, she had declared that some 
 day he would be President. The people who 
 heard her then must have smiled at the idea. 
 
 Lincoln the President 
 
 Before Mr. Lincoln left his quiet home for 
 Washington, he went to visit his old stepmother, 
 whom he had always loved dearly. She cried as 
 she bade him good-bye.
 
 42 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 "I fear that enemies will take your life," she 
 told him. 
 
 She seemed to feel that she would never see 
 this dear stepson again, and Mr. Lincoln him- 
 self was overcome with sadness. He could not 
 shake it off for some time. 
 
 The White House, the beautiful home for pres- 
 idents at Washington, was waiting for the Lin- 
 coln family, and here they settled themselves af- 
 ter the thundering of cannon and the cheers of the 
 people told the world that Abraham Lincoln was 
 now at the head of the government. 
 
 Four baby boys had been born to the Lincolns 
 in Springfield. One of them had died there, but 
 there were still three little sons to enjoy the new 
 life of the big city, and President Lincoln was 
 never so happy as when he could frolic with his 
 boys in the White House gardens. Heavy cares, 
 however, began to press upon him and kept him 
 very busy. There was great trouble in the land. 
 Clouds of war were fast spreading over the blue 
 sky of peace. The question Lincoln had asked 
 himself when a young man must now be settled. 
 
 Should there be slaves in the country or not? 
 Some of the states said u No," and others said 
 "Yes," declaring that each state should have the
 
 THE STORY 43 
 
 right to decide for itself. 
 
 Lincoln had scarcely time to get used to his 
 new duties before the war burst forth, — a ter- 
 rible war. Then it was that the new President 
 showed how great he was,— how wise and strong, 
 how loving towards all, whether they believed as 
 he did or not. 
 
 No other man in the whole country could have 
 rilled his place, for no other had such a great 
 heart and farseeing mind. Night and day he was 
 busy planning how the war might be ended and 
 the country saved. Yet, with the great load of 
 care, he was ever willing to stop and listen to 
 the stories of those who were in trouble. 
 
 More than one unhappy woman came to beg for 
 the life of her husband or son who had been sen- 
 tenced to die. They were never turned away. 
 
 "Let the man live and have one more chance," 
 the President would say in one case after another. 
 
 "His heart is too tender," people sometimes 
 declared. But they did not know him. When 
 firmness was needed, no one could be more fear- 
 less than he. He seemed then to forget every- 
 thing else in doing his duty. 
 
 How he grieved for the soldiers dying in bat- 
 tle, and for the loved ones at home who were
 
 44 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 left to grieve for them ! His great heart would 
 have been broken over the sorrows of others if 
 his strong will had not turned his thoughts at 
 times to other things. 
 
 Because of this he was still able to see the fun 
 in whatever was happening around him. He 
 might be discussing a most serious question with 
 the men who made up his cabinet. Suddenly he 
 would think of a funny story which he would re- 
 peat so cleverly, that all were set laughing. 
 Moreover, this very story might make them un- 
 derstand the question which had troubled them 
 better than if they should spend hours in talking 
 seriously about it. 
 
 Whenever he could spare the time, President 
 Lincoln would ride out to the hospitals near 
 Washington to visit the sick and wounded sol- 
 diers. He had kind and tender words for each, 
 and the sight of his sorrowful face, so full of love 
 for all, gave courage to many a suffering man. 
 
 While Lincoln was feeling so strongly for oth- 
 ers, a great sorrow came into his own home. His 
 favorite son Willie, a bright, lovable boy, was 
 taken ill and died. It seemed as though the 
 father's heart would break. New lines of sad- 
 ness came into his face and he never seemed quite
 
 THE STORY 45 
 
 the same afterwards. 
 
 Alter Willie's death President Lincoln tried 
 to comfort himself with his youngest son "Tad," 
 a merry little fellow. No matter how busy his 
 father might be, Tad was allowed to run in and 
 out of the office whenever he wished. Many a 
 time the little boy spent the whole evening there, 
 curling himself up upon the floor when he was 
 tired out, and dropping off to sleep. Then his 
 father would lift the child tenderly in his strong 
 arms and carry him off to bed. 
 
 Tad probably had more freedom in the White 
 House than any other President's child since then. 
 The little boy was very fond of a tame goat and 
 once when he was away with his mother, Mr. 
 Lincoln wrote his wife: "Tell dear Tad that poor 
 Nanny Goat is lost, and Mrs. Cuthbert and I are 
 in distress about it. The day you left, Nanny 
 was found resting herself and chewing her little 
 cud on the middle of Tad's bed, but now she is 
 gone. The gardner kept complaining that she 
 destroyed the flowers till it was concluded to 
 bring her down to the White House. This was 
 done, and the second day she disappeared and 
 has not been heard of since. This is the last we 
 know of poor Nanny.'*
 
 46 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 We can thus see that even in the midst of ter- 
 rible care and worry over his country, President 
 Lincoln found time to interest himself in what 
 was dear to his little boy. The older son Robert 
 was away at this time in college, but after he 
 graduated he came home to take part in the 
 war. 
 
 On the first day of January, 1863, President 
 Lincoln signed his name to a very important pa- 
 per about which he had been thinking for a long 
 time. By this paper all the slaves in the United 
 States were set free. When the news spread that 
 this had been done, the whole country was great- 
 ly excited. 
 
 Many of President Lincoln's best friends 
 thought he was unwise. They said: "It is too 
 early to set the slaves free." 
 
 Afterwards, however, people came to see that 
 it was the best thing possible, and that Lincoln 
 had chosen the right time. 
 
 The war raged on and news kept coming to 
 Washington of one terrible battle after another. 
 Sometimes it seemed as though one side would 
 win, and sometimes the other. Then came the 
 hard fight at Gettysburg, when the turning-point 
 was reached.
 
 THE STORY 47 
 
 The end of the war was now in sight. After 
 that battle it was decided that the field where it 
 had taken place should be made into a great ceme- 
 tery. Soldiers who fell in the war, no matter 
 on what side they had fought, should be buried 
 there. 
 
 A day was chosen on which the field of Get- 
 tysburg should be dedicated. Thousands of peo- 
 ple from different parts of the country gathered 
 there. William Everett, a great orator, was 
 the chief speaker. For two hours the immense 
 gathering before him listened in wonder. The 
 grace of the man, the charm of his voice, the 
 beauty of his words, all moved his listeners deeply, 
 and when the speech came to an end, the applause 
 was tremendous. 
 
 At last the people became quiet, and another 
 speaker rose before them. It was President Lin- 
 coln, tall, thin, homely, ungraceful. Many of 
 those present had never seen their President be- 
 fore. They were almost shocked at the differ- 
 ence between him and the elegant, polished Wil- 
 liam Everett. And now Lincoln began to speak. 
 
 His manner was awkward, but the first sen- 
 tence was scarcely finished when there came a 
 change. The eyes of the speaker began to burn
 
 48 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 with the fire of deep feeling. His voice became 
 deep and powerful. His manner was no longer 
 lacking in grace. He had forgotten himself in 
 his message. 
 
 And his listeners? The words of the speaker 
 were so simple, yet so strong, that they longed 
 to do the bidding of this man who seemed to-day 
 as one sent from God. Yes, their country must 
 have a new birth of freedom and it should be 
 through their unselfish devotion. 
 
 It was not strange, therefore, that when the 
 speech came to an end there was no sound in that 
 great gathering. The feeling was too deep. The 
 silence spoke more strongly than the loudest ap- 
 plause could have done. 
 
 To-day the world looks upon the Gettysburg 
 Address as one of the greatest speeches ever 
 made. The boys and girls of America take de- 
 light in reciting it, and as they do so they think 
 of Abraham Lincoln, the hero, the lover and 
 savior of his country. 
 
 On the fourth of March, 1865, Lincoln was 
 again made President, and on that day he made 
 another wonderful speech which will be long re- 
 membered. He pled for good will towards all 
 men, whether they had fought for or against their
 
 THE STORY 49 
 
 country, for more tender love toward the sick 
 and sorrowing, — everything, in fact, that might 
 bring about, "a just and lasting peace among 
 ourselves, and with all Nations." 
 
 The clouds of war were now fast scattering 
 and the President had reason to be happy. 
 Through his love and patience and wisdom the 
 country would be saved. 
 
 "Take better care of yourself," his friends kept 
 saying to him. "The times are full of danger. 
 Bad men are everywhere about us, and may work 
 you harm unless you are protected." 
 
 But Lincoln would not heed them. With his 
 great kind heart, he would not let thoughts of 
 enemies enter his mind. 
 
 He went in and out of the White House and 
 through the streets of the city as simply as a com- 
 mon workman might have done. Every day hun- 
 dreds of people sought him, and he received them 
 freely, whether they were friends or strangers. 
 
 "If I were to guard against all danger, I should 
 have to shut myself up in an iron box," he said 
 with a laugh. "And then I could not do my duty 
 as President." 
 
 So, though his friends finally insisted on having 
 a guard to watch daily about the White House,
 
 50 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 and a squad of mounted soldiers to follow his 
 carriage whenever he went out to drive, he was 
 still careless about protecting himself in many 
 ways. 
 
 The 14th of April was at hand. It was Good 
 Friday, and in the churches that day there were 
 many grateful prayers because of the news of 
 coming peace which had reached the people. 
 President Lincoln was very happy. 
 
 In the morning he talked with the men in his 
 cabinet. He said that all anger must be put 
 aside. He himself would take no part in hang- 
 ing those who had fought against the Union, for 
 the one thought now should be peace. 
 
 Robert Lincoln had just came back from the 
 war and his father was able to spend a pleasant 
 hour talking with him about what he had seen. 
 Then came a delightful afternoon when the 
 President took a long drive with his wife. He 
 talked of the quiet, happy life they would have 
 together when his work in Washington should 
 be over. He spoke, too, of his gratitude to the 
 good God who had brought such blessings to the 
 country. 
 
 Never had he seemed more full of love towards 
 all men than he did that Good Friday afternoon.
 
 THE STORY 51 
 
 Then came the evening, when with his wife and 
 two friends the President went to the theater. 
 The play had already begun when they entered 
 the box but the band immediately began, "Hail 
 to the Chief," and the audience stood up and 
 cheered. 
 
 After that the play went on. Lincoln, cheer- 
 ful and happy, sat back to enjoy it. He little 
 dreamed that a man, a noted actor, was already 
 drawing near to carry out a deadly plot. The 
 heart of this man was full of hatred for his coun- 
 try and that country's chief. His mind was crazed 
 by liquor. It was almost ten o'clock when, sud- 
 denly, a shot was heard in the box where Lincoln 
 was sitting. 
 
 A cry rang out through the theater, "He has 
 shot the President," as the great leader's head 
 fell forward and his eyes closed. Those eyes 
 would never look again upon this world, and 
 with the dawn of a new day, the last breath had 
 been drawn by the greatest of all Americans. 
 His work had been done and his country saved. 
 
 He might not live to enjoy with his people the 
 peace which he had prayed for so earnestly. He 
 had entered forever into a greater peace where 
 war and hate could have no place. Great was 
 
 UNIVERSITY Of 
 
 ILLINOIS LIBRARY
 
 52 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 the sorrow in the land. In the homes of rich 
 and poor, the white man and the black, could be 
 heard the sobs of women and children. Even 
 strong men were not ashamed to weep. 
 
 The friend of all creatures, whom God had 
 given to this country in its greatest need, had 
 been suddenly taken away. The booming of the 
 cannons and the tolling of bells could tell but 
 little how great was the loss. The humble rail- 
 splitter, the youth to whom a dollar had once 
 seemed a fortune, had climbed alone, step by 
 step, from the lowland of poverty and ignor- 
 ance to the very summit of the mountain of pro- 
 gress. He had become a savior and a martyr.
 
 THE PLAY
 
 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 A PLAY 
 
 Lend eye and ear, my children dear; 
 
 I, History, will now bring near 
 
 The one whose wisdom, great and true, 
 
 Did save this land beloved by you. 
 
 Here now the backwoods boy behold, 
 
 Unlettered, rough, but for truth ever bold. 
 
 Scene I 
 
 Place, — Interior of a log house at Pigeon 
 Creek, Indiana. 
 
 Time,— About 1820. 
 
 Abraham Lincoln, his Stepmother, and 
 Matilda, his stepsister. (Lincoln is stretched 
 on the floor, working out a problem on a big 
 wooden shovel with a bit of charcoal. At the 
 same time he is eating his breakfast of corncake. 
 His stepmother and sister are cleaning off the 
 table.) 
 
 Matilda, — Mother, did you hear about the 
 spelling match at the school house? 
 
 Mother,— No, did the children do well? 
 
 Matilda,— Why, you see, the class was 
 
 SS
 
 56 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 poorer than usual and one after another failed 
 until the schoolmaster began to get angry. You 
 know he has a terrible temper. He gave out the 
 word, defied. My, but you oughter have heard 
 the way the class went down on that! The first 
 one spelled it, d-e-f-y-e-d, the next said, d-e-f-i-d-e, 
 and so on. But nobody hit it right. "Next, 
 next," the schoolmaster kept saying and he was 
 gittin' madder and madder every minute. At 
 last he began to jump up and down while he 
 shouted, "The school shall not be dismissed till 
 that word is spelled right." 
 
 After that he sorter caught his breath and 
 called on Kate Roby. She's an awful pretty 
 girl, you know, and I guess Abe likes her power- 
 ful well. My, but she was scared though! Sh 
 didn't know any better than the rest of us. She 
 began, d-e-f-, and everybody knew by the shape 
 of her mouth she was going to say y. 
 
 Just then she happened to look at Abe. He 
 was standing opposite her in the line, and he 
 was grinning. Quick as a wink he lifted his 
 hand up and pointed to his eye. Of course Kate 
 guessed what he wanted to tell her. She went 
 on, and finished without any trouble. I reckon 
 she's thankful to Abe for gettin' her out of her
 
 A PLAY 57 
 
 trouble. And the class, too, for that matter! 
 
 Mother (smiling),— That is just like Abe, 
 always ready to help someone that is in trouble. 
 (Turning now to Abe, who has been so busy that 
 he didn't hear the conversation.) Abe! 
 
 Abe (starting at hearing his name called),— 
 What is it, mother? 
 
 Mother,— Abe, come, come, take your axe 
 and start for the woodland. 
 
 Abe (laying down his charcoal and swallow- 
 the last bit of corn-cake),— Yes, mother. 
 (He jumps up, takes down the ax which hangs 
 against the side of the wall, and with long strides 
 leaves the hut and goes down the path towards 
 the woods.) 
 
 Matilda,— I'm going with Abe, mother. I 
 like to watch him cut down the trees. 
 
 Mother,— No, you can't go to-day. You 
 must help me. Now don't pout, my child. Those 
 beans should be picked. I have a hundred 
 things to do myself. After the housework is 
 finished, I must sew for the children. 
 
 Matilda (scowling, takes a pail and goes 
 out of the hut, talking to herself),— I don't 
 care. I'm going with Abe, anyway. If I hurry, 
 I can catch up with him yet. (Matilda runs and
 
 5 8 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 catches up with Abe, who is whistling as he 
 strides along. She makes a sudden spring, and 
 lands on her brother's shoulders. Pressing her 
 knees against his back she pulls him down upon 
 the ground. His ax falls and makes a sharp cut 
 in her knee.) 
 
 Matilda (screaming), — Oh, Oh, Oh! 
 
 Abe,— Sh! there! there! don't be scared. I'll 
 have it all right in a minute. (He tears off a 
 strip of cloth from his ragged shirt sleeve, and 
 binds it about the girl's knee.) 
 
 Matilda (still crying),— Oh, Oh, Oh! 
 
 Abe,— 'Tilda, how could you? I am aston- 
 ished. To think that you should disobey your 
 mother. 
 
 Matilda (rocking herself to and fro),— Oh, 
 Oh, Oh ! 
 
 Abe (sternly now),— What will you tell 
 mother? How will you explain about getting 
 hurt? 
 
 Matilda,— I'll tell her that I did it with the 
 ax. Isn't that the truth? 
 
 Abe,— Yes, Tilda, it is the truth, but it isn't 
 the whole truth. Be a brave girl when you go 
 home. Tell your mother the whole truth, and 
 leave the rest to her.
 
 A PLAY 59 
 
 Matilda (looking up into her brother's kind 
 but firm face),— Yes, Abe, I reckon you arc 
 right. I'll do what you say. (She limps away). 
 
 Abe (talking to himself), — Poor Tilda! it is 
 hard to be brave, even in little things. (He 
 sighs.) I must be brave, too, but in a different 
 way. I long for book-learning, and to know the 
 great world far away from this rough home of 
 ours, but I must plod on day after day and keep 
 cheerful for mother's sake. I will be a great 
 man yet, though, unlikely as it seems. I feel it. 
 Yes, I know it. 
 
 Now older grown our hero see, 
 A kind and tender heart has he. 
 E'en though his life is far from bright 
 Yet strong his will is towards the right, 
 While deep within is purpose strong 
 To rise to greatness and belong 
 Among the few, whose deeds shall bring 
 The whole wide world to wondering. 
 
 Scene Two 
 
 Time,— About 1829. 
 
 Place, — Grocery store in Gentryville, a town 
 near Lincoln's home. (A crowd of farmers
 
 6o ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 about the door.) 
 
 First Farmer,— Went huntin' yesterday. 
 
 Second Farmer,— What d'ye get? 
 
 First Farmer,— Two good fat deer and a 
 turkey. The turkey was a buster, I tell ye. My 
 woman got him on the spit bright and early this 
 morning. 
 
 Second Farmer,— Where d'ye go? Down in 
 that stretch of woods to the south? 
 
 First Farmer,— Yes, that's the best huntin' 
 place in these parts now. Plenty of panthers 
 there, too ! A panther could have jumped down 
 on me any minute, for it was so dark that I 
 couldn't see my hand in front of my face. I 
 was late gettin' home, and the screams of the 
 critters sent the shivers running down my back. 
 
 Second Farmer (half to himself), — It's 
 queer that Abe Linkern never goes huntin'. He'd 
 be a good one at it, too 1 A surer hand I never 
 knew. 
 
 Third Farmer,— Did ye ever hear that story 
 about him when he was a little feller? 
 
 (The men gather round and speak together.) 
 
 No, what is it? 
 
 Third Farmer,— Why, ye see, it was this 
 way. He was in the cabin and happened to look
 
 A PLAY 6 1 
 
 out just as a flock of turkeys was comin' into 
 sight. Quick as a flash he run to the wall and 
 took down his father's rifle. Then he run over 
 to a big crack in the logs. Steady now! He 
 took good aim. Crack goes the rifle, and down 
 falls the best bird in the whole flock. Ye'd a 
 thought that with such a beginning he'd a took to 
 huntin' with a zest. 
 
 Fourth Farmer,— No, no, he's too soft- 
 hearted. Can't bear to make even a dumb crit- 
 ter suffer. He'll wrastle with the best of us, 
 and beat us every time when it comes to splittin' 
 rails or cuttin' logs. But huntin' don't seem to 
 be in his dictionary. 
 
 First Farmer,— I saw him do a stunt this 
 very mornin'. Three of us was gettin' ready to 
 move a chicken house. We was all takin' long 
 breaths before the start, for it weighed three hun- 
 dred or more. 'Long comes Abe just about that 
 time, "What are ye waiting fer?" says he. 
 "Waiting fer?" says I. "We're only gettin' 
 ready." At that he give a long chuckle down 
 in his throat, stepped over to the chicken house, 
 lifted it like it was a feather, and walked off with 
 it. He's a tough one, I tell ye. 
 
 The Crowd,— Ha, ha, ha! Good for Abe!
 
 62 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 Third Farmer,— That's no better than I see 
 him do last week. My neighbor an' I had some 
 posts to move. They was so big, we couldn't 
 budge 'em. "Fetch some sticks," says I, "and 
 call those men over in that field to come and 
 help us." Then along comes Abe. "What's 
 the matter, boys?" says he, laughing like. "Show 
 me where you want them posts." I pointed out 
 the places. With that, he lifts one of the logs 
 up on to his shoulder, easy like, and walks off 
 with it. An' he kep' on till the last one was 
 moved. 
 
 (John Baldwin, the blacksmith, enters the 
 store.) 
 
 Baldwin, — Did you hear about Abe and that 
 drunken feller the other night? 
 
 First Farmer,— Yes, Dave told me. 
 
 The Rest,— No, tell us. 
 
 Baldwin,— Why, Dave and Abe had been 
 threshin' wheat all day, and in the evening they 
 stopped here on their way home. They stayed 
 till it was pretty late. Then they started off 
 down through that lonely stretch of country. 
 They had gone quite a spell, when Abe says, sud- 
 den like, "What's that?" and he pointed to a 
 heap lyin' side of a mud puddle.
 
 A PLAY 63 
 
 The two went up and found that it was a man 
 they both knew, — a good fellow, too, but some- 
 how or other, he'd been and got drunk. There 
 he lay still as death,— didn't know it even when 
 they rolled him over. u He can't stay here," sez 
 Abe. "The night's too cold, and he might 
 freeze before morning." 
 
 "Let him lay in the bed that he's made for 
 himself," sez the other, "I'm going home." 
 
 But Abe wouldn't hear to it. Leave a help- 
 less man there to freeze to death! That warn't 
 in Abe's makeup. Without saying anythin' 
 more, he bent over and lifted the man up with 
 them long arms of his, and started off with him. 
 He didn't drop him, either, till he reached Den- 
 nis Hanks' cabin. Then he built a fire, and set 
 to work rubbin' and warmin' the man up. It 
 was mornin' before he dared to leave him alone. 
 I'm proud to call Abe Linkern a friend of mine. 
 
 The Crowd,— Three cheers for honest Abe! 
 Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah! 
 
 First Farmer,— How the women folks do 
 like the rail splitter! They say he's the handi- 
 est man they ever see. Alius ready to help, 
 from bringing in a pile of wood to rockin' a baby. 
 An' then he's so honest! He wouldn't cheat a
 
 64 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 chicken out of a pin feather. 
 
 Second Farmer,— I reckon they like him all 
 the better because he never touches strong drink. 
 Ye can't get him to. Tain't cause he ain't got 
 spirit, neither. He just won't and that's all there 
 is to it. 
 
 Third Farmer,— He's got some queer no- 
 tions, Abe has. He says that he is goin' to be 
 President of these here U-nited States. Solemn 
 as an owl about it, too ! 
 
 Fourth Farmer,— They might go better and 
 fare worse. Abe's got a powerful long head 
 on them young shoulders. 
 
 The Crowd,— Thet he has. 
 
 First Farmer,— There he comes now (call- 
 ing to him.) Hurry up, Abe, we want one of 
 your stories to warm us up this cold night. 
 
 (One after another, as Abe appears.) Evenin\ 
 Abe. 
 
 First Farmer,— Heerd you was playing 
 speaker down in Crawford's field the other day, 
 Abe. They say as how everybody stopped and 
 gathered round to hear you take off the law 
 argiments that ye heerd down to the county seat. 
 Then old Crawford came out and sent the work- 
 men about their business.
 
 A PLAY 65 
 
 The Crowd,— Ha, Ha, Ha! 
 
 (Lincoln rolls his eyes and makes up a face.) 
 
 Second Farmer,— Let's have thet song o' 
 yours about Crawford's blue nose. An' don't 
 leave out a single pimple on the ugly old stub. 
 
 The Crowd,— Ha, Ha, Ha! 
 
 Abe (smiling), — I reckon Crawford would 
 give me his life of Washington if he could change 
 that nose. It was a bad thing for him when 
 he made me work three days for him to pay for 
 that book I had borrowed. To be sure it was 
 hurt a good deal in the rain that beat in through 
 the rafters by my bed, but I meant to be careful 
 of it. 
 
 Baldwin,— But a song! not the one about 
 Crawford,— you've sung that enough; let's have 
 the one about Jackson. We're all Jackson men 
 here to-night. 
 
 (Lincoln sings in a queer cracked voice.) 
 
 "Let auld acquaintance be forgot 
 And never brought to mind 
 And Jackson be our President 
 And Adams left behind." 
 
 Second Farmer,— Let's have "Poor Old 
 Ned," Abe. You can do that better. (Laughter
 
 66 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 again, for everyone knows that Abe cannot keep 
 to a tune.) 
 Abe,— 
 
 "There was an old darky 
 And his name was Ned— 
 
 (Captain Larkin, a little fat man, and a great 
 boaster, enters the store.) 
 
 Larkins (in a blustering voice) ,— Fellers, 
 I've got the fastest and best horse in this here 
 town. 
 
 The men laugh. 
 
 Larkins,— I tell ye, I have the best and fast- 
 est horse in this here town. (He sees Lincoln 
 winking at his friends. He steps up in front of 
 him and shouts in a loud voice) : 
 
 I have the best horse in this country. I ran 
 him three miles in nine minutes, and he never 
 drew a long breath. 
 
 Abe (looking at him),— Well, Larkins, why 
 don't you tell us how many short breaths he 
 drew? 
 
 The crowd laughs. 
 
 Larkins (doubling up his fists and jumping 
 around),— I'd fight you, Abe Lincoln, if you 
 wasn't so all-fired big.
 
 A PLAY 67 
 
 Abe (very quietly) , — Now, Larkins, if you 
 don't keep still, I'll throw you into that water. 
 
 (Larkins gets red in the face and slinks out 
 of the store.) 
 
 Abe turns to one of his friends and speaks in 
 a low voice. I'm going to cut work and go over to 
 the county seat again to-morrow, for court is going 
 on there. I'm bound to be a lawyer, Ben, and a 
 great one. After that, who knows what will 
 happen? 
 
 (His friend smiles.) 
 
 Lincoln,— It seems funny, does it? Abe 
 Lincoln, the rail splitter, one of the big men of 
 this country! Well, watch and see, old man. 
 
 (He taps his friend on the shoulder and goes 
 out.) 
 
 Years have passed by; the backwoods boy 
 Has grown to manhood, now, forsooth, 
 No longer poor, with fame unearned, 
 But Lincoln the lawyer, great and learned, 
 Wise in his craft, given honor and praise, 
 Yet never forgetting the friends of old days. 
 
 Scene Three 
 Time,— 1858. 
 Place,— A court room in Beardstown, Illinois.
 
 68 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 Judge, jury, Lawyer Lincoln, William Arm- 
 strong, accused of murder, witnesses, crowd of 
 on-lookers. 
 
 Crowd (excitedly talking together),— Guilty! 
 Guilty ! Guilty ! 
 
 Man in the Crowd,— Look at Armstrong's 
 face. He turns away his eyes. Of course he is 
 guilty. 
 
 Second Man, — But as one of the witnesses 
 shows, Metzger might have been hit by the yoke 
 on his oxen. That is, if he got in the way and 
 stumbled. 
 
 Crowd (laughing),— Ha, ha, ha! But the 
 last witness ! Of course he is guilty. 
 
 Judge,— Order! Will the court please come 
 to order? William Armstrong, you may speak 
 in your own defense. 
 
 Armstrong (speaking to the judge), — I am 
 charged with a terrible deed. I am innocent, 
 sir, indeed I am. It is true that I struck Metz- 
 ger in anger. I struck him with my fist. But 
 the blow was not a hard one. It did not harm. 
 I am sure of it. 
 
 Crowd (jeering),— Guilty! Guilty! Guilty! 
 
 Judge,— Let the last witness speak. 
 
 Witness,— I saw Armstrong and Metzger
 
 A PLAY 69 
 
 when they were quarrelling together that last 
 night. Armstrong pounded Metzger in the face 
 with a sling shot which he had prepared with 
 great care. That settled Metzger. 
 
 Lincoln,— At what time did this happen? 
 
 Witness,— About eleven o'clock at night. 
 
 Lincoln,— How could you see so clearly at 
 that time of night? 
 
 Witness (promptly), — By the light of the 
 moon. 
 
 Lincoln,— Was there light enough to see 
 everything that happened? 
 
 Witness,— The moon was about in the same 
 place as the sun would be at ten o'clock in the 
 morning, and nearly full. 
 
 Lincoln (turning to an officer of the court), 
 —Bring me an almanac. 
 
 Officer (coming forward and placing an al- 
 manac in Lincoln's hand),— Here it is, sir. 
 
 Lincoln (opening the almanac and speaking 
 very slowly) ,— This almanac shows that at the 
 time you speak, the moon was not shining. There 
 was utter darkness. What you have said, then, 
 cannot be true. 
 
 Crowd (excitedly), — Innocent! Innocent! 
 poor boy! Of course he's innocent.
 
 7 o ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 Lincoln,— Gentlemen of the jury, I came 
 here to-day to defend this young man, William 
 Armstrong, not for pay, but because I owe a 
 great debt to his parents. They were kind to 
 me when I was poor, and had but few friends. 
 The father of this boy who has been unjustly ac- 
 cused, has gone to his long rest. His mother, 
 now a weak, gray-haired old woman, is broken 
 down with sorrow. But, years ago, when young 
 and happy, these two welcomed me to their hum- 
 ble log cabin. They were poor, but they gladly 
 shared what they had with the homeless boy 
 who came to their door. They were father and 
 mother to me. Now it is my privilege to plead 
 for the life of their own son, whom I once rocked 
 in his cradle while his gentle mother mended my 
 ragged clothing. 
 
 Gentlemen of the jury, think of this poor boy's 
 mother. Think also how young he is, and how 
 unjustly he has been accused. Decide this case 
 as you think it right and just, bearing in mind, 
 that by this almanac, the words of the last wit- 
 ness are proved to be untrue. 
 
 (The jury wipe tears from their eyes. Sobs 
 are heard in the crowd.) 
 
 Judge (turning to the jury),— Gentlemen,
 
 A PLAY 71 
 
 you have heard the case. We wait for your de- 
 cision. 
 
 (The jury go out of the room, but return very 
 shortly.) 
 
 Judge (speaking to the jury),— Gentlemen of 
 the jury, what is your decision? 
 
 Foreman of the Jury (handing paper to the 
 judge), — Guilty, or not guilty? 
 
 Judge (reading the paper),— Not guilty! Re- 
 lease the prisoner at the bar. 
 
 (The crowd rises. Talking together and 
 laughing, they leave the court-room.) 
 
 Hannah Armstrong, the boy's mother, enters 
 by another door, shaking with excitement, and 
 rushes towards Lincoln, after the jury have all 
 shaken hands with her. 
 
 Lincoln (tears running down his cheeks),— 
 Hannah, what did I tell you? The boy is as 
 free as I said that he should be, and I pray to 
 God that he may be a good boy hereafter, and 
 that this may prove in the end to be a good les- 
 son to him and to others. 
 
 Hannah, — May God reward you as you de- 
 serve, Mr. Lincoln. You have a great heart, as 
 well as a wise head. May you live to do great 
 deeds for your country.
 
 72 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 War, fierce and bitter, sweeps our land, 
 Death and disaster's on every hand, 
 But Lincoln, now our President, 
 Shows wisdom great and calm judgment, 
 While even now, though cares of state 
 Bow down his mind with heavy weight, 
 His heart with pitying love takes heed 
 Of everyone who is in need. 
 
 Scene Four 
 
 Time,— i 86 i, during the great Civil War. 
 
 Place,— Guard house at Chain Bridge Camp, 
 near Washington, D. C. 
 
 William Scott, a "Green Mountain" boy, who 
 has been sentenced to die the next morning for 
 going to sleep while on duty. 
 
 (The boy looks very sad. His head is bent 
 over as he sits thinking. A medal, with Lincoln's 
 face engraved on it, hangs from his neck.) 
 
 He looks down at it and speaks softly to him- 
 self,— He was once a poor country boy like me, 
 with work so hard that it would have broken the 
 spirit of any other fellow. But he was always 
 brave, always kind and thoughtful. And with 
 it all, they say he had one thought. He was to
 
 A PLAY 73 
 
 be a great man some day. He never lost sight 
 of that. And now he is a great man, but it has 
 not made him proud. How sad his face is! It is 
 as though he were always thinking of the suf- 
 fering he longs to help. 
 
 (Lincoln enters and walks up to his side.) 
 
 Lincoln (gently), — My dear boy, I have 
 come to see you. I hear that you are one of our 
 Green Mountain boys. 
 
 Scott (in a frightened whisper),— Yes, sir. 
 
 Lincoln,— Tell me about your home, my boy; 
 are you a farmer's son? 
 
 Scott,— Yes, sir. 
 
 Lincoln,— And how did you spend your days 
 in your Green Mountain home? 
 
 Scott,— When I wasn't at school, I helped 
 my father on the farm. I was up with the sun 
 in the morning, and was busy until it set. Then 
 supper, and off to bed, for I would be so tired 
 and sleepy that I couldn't keep awake another 
 minute. 
 
 Lincoln,— Have you a mother, my boy? 
 
 Scott,— Yes, sir; and I love her very dearly. 
 Here is her picture. 
 
 (The boy's voice chokes as he takes a pic- 
 ture out of his bosom and shows it to Lincoln.)
 
 74 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 Lincoln (looking at the picture and speaking 
 very softly),— How glad you must be that your 
 mother is still living! If I were in your place, I 
 would try to make your mother proud of you. 
 Never give her cause to be sorrowful, my dear 
 boy. Never let her shed one tear on your ac- 
 count. 
 
 Scott (aside),— Why does the President 
 speak in this way to me, when he must know that 
 I am to die to-morrow? Ah! It is because he is 
 so kind. (Looking up into the President's face.) 
 Sir, I do not feel guilty. I did my best. Truly 
 I did. It happened this way. One of my mates 
 was on picket duty for the night. But he was so 
 ill that he was not fit for it. "I will take your 
 place," I told him. It was hard work, for I was 
 not used to it, keeping awake all night. You see, 
 mother didn't want me to go into the war, any- 
 way. She said I was too young. But, sir, I did 
 my duty on guard that night and did not close my 
 eyes once. 
 
 Lincoln (tenderly),— Then what happened, 
 my boy? 
 
 Scott,— The very next day, I was ordered on 
 guard for the night. I tried my best, sir, indeed 
 I did. But I couldn't keep awake, and went to
 
 A PLAY 75 
 
 sleep while I was walking back and forth. The 
 other guard found me asleep at my post, and you 
 know the rest. (The boy hesitates, and then 
 goes on.) I want to ask you a favor, sir. Can 
 you fix it up so that the firing party who are to 
 shoot me to-morrow morning shall be picked 
 from another regiment? It would be very hard 
 to die at the hand of one's own comrades. 
 
 Lincoln, — My boy, stand up and look me in 
 the face. 
 
 (Scott does so.) 
 
 Lincoln,— My boy, you are not going to be 
 shot to-morrow morning. I believe you when 
 you say that you could not keep awake. I am 
 going to trust you and send you back to your 
 regiment. But I have been put to a great deal 
 of trouble on your account. I have had to come 
 up here from Washington when I have a great 
 deal to do; what I want to know is, how are 
 you going to pay my bill? 
 
 Scott (with a choking voice),— I— I— I am 
 grateful, Mr. Lincoln. I hope that I am as 
 grateful to you as a man should be for saving my 
 life. But it comes upon me sudden. I didn't lay 
 out for it at all. There must be some way to 
 pay you, and I will find it out after a while.
 
 7 6 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 There is the bounty in the savings bank. Then, 
 too, I guess I could borrow some money on the 
 mortgage of the farm. There is my pay, and I 
 am sure that if you can wait till pay-day the boys 
 will help me out. We could do it if it isn't more 
 than five or six hundred dollars. 
 
 Lincoln,— But it is a great deal more than 
 that, my boy. 
 
 Scott,— Then I don't see now how it can be 
 done, sir, but I am sure that I can find a way if I 
 live. 
 
 Lincoln (putting his hands on Scott's shoul- 
 ders and speaking sorrowfully),— My boy, my 
 bill is a very large one. Your friends cannot pay 
 it, nor your bounty, nor the farm, nor your com- 
 rades. Only one man in all the world can pay 
 it, and his name is William Scott. If from this 
 day, William Scott does his duty, so that, if I 
 were there when he comes to die, he could look 
 me in the face as he does now, and say, "I have 
 kept my promise, and I have done my duty as a 
 soldier," then my debt will be paid. Will you 
 make that promise and try to keep it? 
 
 Scott,— I will make that promise, and with 
 God's help I will keep it. 
 
 Lincoln (solemnly),— May God bless you.
 
 A PLAY 77 
 
 I believe that, with his help, you will do your 
 duty. I shall not forget you, my boy. Good- 
 bye. 
 
 Still raging is the cruel war, 
 Thousands are slain, from near and far 
 Comes news of battle, and the air 
 With grief is fraught, and heavy care. 
 Our President with sorrow's bowed, 
 While still his hope and faith speak loud: 
 Victory will come, the storm pass by, 
 Light will appear, for God is nigh. 
 
 Scene Five 
 
 Time,— 1863, during the great Civil War. 
 
 Scene,— War office in Washington. 
 
 (Two telegraph operators sitting by their in- 
 struments, papers beside them.) 
 
 Officer (entering hurriedly),— Any news? 
 
 First Operator,— Yes. (Hands him a tele- 
 gram). 
 
 Officer (reading), — Battle still raging 
 around Gettysburg. Great loss of life on both 
 sides. Confederates pressing on. 
 
 (Half to himself),— Please God that things 
 take a turn in our favor. They have looked 
 black enough for us lately.
 
 7 8 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 (Second officer entering),— I hope that there 
 is good news this morning. Old Abe has been 
 feeling terribly discouraged, though he is still 
 ever ready with his jokes. We must have a 
 victory, or the country will be lost. What's this? 
 (Reads telegram that first officer has handed 
 him.) This can't be all. There must have been 
 more fighting to-day. See (points to a map on 
 the table), we have just learned from a prisoner 
 caught this morning that Lee is pushing ahead 
 only a part of his army. He has no idea of the 
 number of our men behind these hills. May God 
 grant that General Mead will use his chance. 
 
 First Officer,— Old Abe is counting so much 
 on him. 
 
 First Operator (who has been busy tele- 
 graphing, jumps up and cries),— Lines cut again, 
 sir. 
 
 First Officer,— But the lines are guarded. 
 
 Operator,— Not in Washington, sir. I was 
 just sending a message to Secretary Seward, and 
 the lines have been cut not four blocks away. 
 
 Second Officer (rings a bell and a sergeant 
 appears), turning to him,— Send men to find the 
 cut in the line to Seward's office. Quick! 
 
 Sergeant,— Yes, sir. (Goes out.)
 
 A PLAY 79 
 
 Second Officer (in a low voice to first offi- 
 cer),— There are traitors right here in the city. 
 The President must be guarded, but he must not 
 know of the danger. Sh-h. 
 
 (President Lincoln, entering),— Good morn- 
 ing, gentlemen. 
 
 (Officers salute him.) 
 
 Lincoln walks over to the table and picking 
 up the first of the telegrams, smiles. Listen to 
 this, gentlemen. (Reads aloud). Massa Lin- 
 coln, my boy, Jim, done run away to fight in this 
 cruel war. Please send him home. Aunt Chloe. 
 
 Officers laugh. 
 
 Lincoln, talking on, as he glances at one 
 telegram after another, — I have just come from 
 a lively talk with one of my advisers. (Laughs 
 and looks keenly from one officer to the other.) 
 
 First Officer,— Yes? 
 
 Lincoln,— You see, he blames me for being 
 too soft-hearted. Too many pardons, he de- 
 clares. The soldiers aren't held up to their 
 duty. If they get scared and run from danger, 
 they think that a word from me will save them. 
 Well, my good friend had worked himself into 
 a rage when he came to me, but bless you, he went 
 away smiling.
 
 80 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 First Officer,— How did you bring it about? 
 
 Lincoln (with a drawl in his voice and a 
 twinkle in his eye),— Perhaps you never heard 
 of the farmer who was troubled by a big log in 
 the middle of his field? 
 
 (The officers shake their heads.) 
 
 Lincoln,— Well, one day the old fellow told 
 his neighbor that he had got rid of it. "But 
 how did you do it?" asked the man. "It was 
 too knotty to split, too wet and soggy to burn." 
 "Now, I'll tell ye," said the farmer, "if you will 
 promise to keep it a secret." (The man prom- 
 ised.) Then the farmer said very solemnly, "I 
 ploughed around it." 
 
 Now that is just what I did, gentlemen. I 
 ploughed around my good friend, but it took me 
 two hours of good hard work. 
 
 Officers laugh, and Lincoln goes on reading 
 the telegrams. Suddenly he looks up and be- 
 gins to speak again. — Gentlemen, it has been 
 looking pretty black lately, hasn't it? 
 
 (Officers bow.) 
 
 But I have a great hope. We shall hear good 
 news shortly. I am sure of it. I had the same 
 dream last night that has come to me before 
 when great things were to happen. It was this
 
 A PLAY 8 i 
 
 (he speaks almost in a whisper) : I was in a 
 strange ship that I cannot describe, and I was 
 moving fast, very fast, towards a dark shore 
 beyond. (Lincoln sighs, and then goes on.) 
 That was all,— but, gentlemen, it means good 
 news, great news. 
 
 First Operator (excitedly holding out a tele- 
 gram he has just been taking down), — Mr. Pres- 
 ident, read this, please. 
 
 Lincoln (reads aloud),— Gettysburg, Presi- 
 dent Abraham Lincoln, A three days' fight is 
 over. Great loss of life, but victory is with us. 
 Enemy in full flight. Scout A. 
 
 Lincoln,— Praise to the good God. (He 
 buries his face in his hands.) 
 
 The sky at last begins to clear, 
 
 No longer is great cause to fear 
 
 That North and South divided be. 
 
 Our President the end can see 
 
 Of cruel war; his hope is high, 
 
 His heart grows merry; though death be nigh 
 
 He knows it not. Then, suddenly, 
 
 He meets his end most cruelly. 
 
 Scene Six 
 
 Time, Ten o'clock in the evening, April 14, 
 1865.
 
 82 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 Scene,— A street in Washington. 
 
 Two officers walking together. 
 
 First Officer,— How much we have to be 
 thankful for! The end of the war is in sight. 
 We can draw a long breath at last. 
 
 Second Officer,— Yes, and we may bless 
 God for the one who has brought us safely 
 through such terrible dangers. No other than 
 Old Abe would have been wise enough to do it. 
 He was sent to us in our great need. 
 
 First Officer,— I believe it. They say that 
 even when he was a backwoods boy, he talked 
 of being President some day. He was deter- 
 mined to be a great man. But when he became 
 great, did it make him proud? No, it made him 
 eager to use his power in helping others. Such 
 a big, tender heart I never knew. 
 
 Second Officer, — I heard that he seemed 
 unusually happy to-day,— went driving with his 
 wife in the afternoon, and this evening is at the 
 theatre with her and a party of friends. 
 
 First Officer,— Perhaps his dream had 
 something to do with it. Do you remember the 
 day we heard of the success at Gettysburg, and 
 his telling us of the dream he had the night be- 
 fore? I heard that he had the same one last
 
 A PLAY 83 
 
 night, and that he said it meant more good news. 
 No doubt he was thinking of the end of the war. 
 
 Second Officer, — I hope with all my heart 
 that the dream comes true, and that President 
 Lincoln will live long to enjoy the peace for which. 
 he has worked so hard. 
 
 (At this point a man comes running towards 
 the two officers, shouting.) 
 
 Shot! Shot! President Lincoln has been 
 shot! 
 
 Crowd gathers from all directions. 
 
 First Officer (excitedly),— Shot! what do 
 you mean? 
 
 Man (still shouting), — Shot by a crazy actor 
 in Ford's theatre, and there is no hope! 
 
 The two officers force their way through the 
 crowd as they hurry down the street in the di- 
 rection of the theatre. 
 
 Old Negro Woman (screaming), — Massa 
 Linkum, good Massa Linkum ! De Lord neber 
 let such harm come to de Savior of dis people ! 
 No ! No ! No ! 
 
 Women in the crowd begin to sob. 
 
 Newcomer, (joining the crowd), — Yes, it is 
 true. There is no hope. The Friend of his peo- 
 ple is sinking fast. The doctors believe that he
 
 84 ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 
 will not last till morning. 
 
 Voice from the Crowd, — No hope ! 
 
 One After Another, — No hope ! No 
 hope! 
 
 Old Man,— What will become of the coun- 
 try now? 
 
 Man (who brought the news that Lincoln was 
 sinking) ,— Our President has saved the country, 
 but he has lost his life in doing it. 
 
 One of the Crowd,— To the White House, 
 to hear all we can. 
 
 (He hurries away, and the others follow.)