[Illustration]

~WEEKLY READER~

Children's Book Club

Education Center · Columbus 16, Ohio

PRESENTS

~Abe Lincoln Gets His Chance~

[Illustration][Illustration][Illustration]

_by_ ~FRANCES CAVANAH~

_illustrated by_ Paula Hutchison

RAND McNALLY & COMPANY

CHICAGO · NEW YORK · SAN FRANCISCO

_This book is dedicated to my grandnephew_

~PHILIP JAN NADELMAN~

~WEEKLY READER Children's Book Club Edition, 1959~

COPYRIGHT (c) 1959 BY RAND McNALLY & COMPANY

COPYRIGHT 1959 UNDER INTERNATIONAL COPYRIGHT UNION

BY RAND McNALLY & COMPANY

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

PRINTED IN U. S. A. 

BY AMERICAN BOOK-STRATFORD PRESS, INC. , N. Y. 

A LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOG CARD NUMBER: 59-5789

In writing this story of Abraham Lincoln, the author depended primarilyon Lincoln's own statements and on the statements of his family andfriends who had firsthand knowledge of his everyday life. In instanceswhen dialogue had to be imagined, the conversation might logically havetaken place in the light of known circumstances. Such descriptivedetails as were necessarily added were based on authentic accounts ofpioneer times. 

F. C. 

[Illustration][Illustration: Map of States where Lincoln was born and lived]

1

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There was a new boy baby at the Lincoln cabin! By cracky! thought DennisHanks as he hurried up the path, he was going to like having a boycousin. They could go swimming together. Maybe they could play Indian. Dennis pushed open the cabin door. 

"Where is he?" he shouted. "Where is he?"

"Sh!" A neighbor, who had come in to help, put her finger to her lips. "The baby is asleep. "

Nancy Lincoln was lying on the pole bed in a corner of the one-roomhouse. She looked very white under the dark bearskin covering, but whenshe heard Dennis she raised her head. "It's all right, Denny, " she said. "You can see him now. "

Dennis tiptoed over to the bed. A small bundle, wrapped in a homespunshawl, rested in the curve of Nancy's arm. When she pulled back theshawl, Dennis could not think of anything to say. The baby was sowrinkled and so red. It looked just like a cherry after the juice hadbeen squeezed out. 

Nancy touched one of the tiny hands with the tip of her finger. "See hiswee red fists and the way he throws them around!" she said. 

"What's his name?" Dennis asked at last. 

"We're calling him after his grandpappy. Abraham Lincoln!"

"That great big name for that scrawny little mite?"

Nancy sounded hurt. "Give him a chance to grow, will you?"

Then she saw that Dennis was only teasing. "You wait!" she went on. "Itwon't be long before Abe will be running around in buckskin breeches anda coonskin cap. "

"Well, maybe--"

The door opened, and Tom Lincoln, the baby's father, came in. With himwas Aunt Betsy Sparrow. She kissed Nancy and carried the baby over to astool by the fireplace. Making little cooing noises under her breath, she dressed him in a white shirt and a yellow flannel petticoat. SallyLincoln, two years old, who did not know quite what to make of the newbrother, came over and stood beside her. Dennis drew up another stooland watched. 

Aunt Betsy looked across at him and smiled. Dennis, an orphan, livedwith her and she knew that he was often lonely. There weren't manypeople living in Kentucky in the year 1809, and Dennis had no boys toplay with. 

"I reckon you're mighty tickled to have a new cousin, " she said. 

"I--I guess so, " said Dennis slowly. 

"Want to hold him?"

Dennis was not quite sure whether he did or not. Before he could answer, Aunt Betsy laid the baby in his arms. Sally edged closer. She started toput out her hand, but pulled it back. Abraham was so small that she wasafraid to touch him. 

"Don't you fret, Sally, " said Dennis. "Cousin Nancy said that he isgoing to grow. And when he does, do you know what I'm going to do? I'mgoing to teach him to swim. "

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Looking down into the tiny red face, Dennis felt a sudden warm glow inhis heart. "Yes, and we can go fishing down at the creek. When I go tothe mill to get the corn ground, he can come along. He can ride behindme on the horse, and when it goes cloppety-clop--"

Dennis swung the baby back and forth. It puckered up its face and beganto cry. Dennis caught his breath in dismay. How could such a large noisecome out of such a small body?

"Here, Aunt, take him quick!"

He looked at Cousin Nancy out of the corner of his eye. "I reckon he'llnever come to much. "

"Now, Dennis Hanks, I want you to behave, " said Aunt Betsy, but thistime Nancy paid no attention to his teasing. She held out her arms forher son and cuddled him against her breast. 

"As I told you, " she said gaily, "you have to give him a chance togrow. "

It was almost dark by the time Aunt Betsy had tidied the one-roomcabin. She cooked some dried berries for Nancy, and fed Sally. Dennisbegged to spend the night. After his aunt had put on her shawl and leftfor her own cabin, he curled up in a bearskin on the floor. 

"Denny, " asked Nancy, "what day is this?"

"It's Sunday--"

"I mean what day of the month. "

"I don't rightly know, Cousin Nancy. "

"I remember now, " she went on. "It is the twelfth day of February. February 12, 1809! Little Abe's birthday!"

Outside the wind rose, whistling through the bare branches of the trees. There was a blast of cold air as the door opened. Tom came in, his armspiled high with wood. He knelt on the dirt floor to build up the fire, and the rising flames lit the log walls with a faint red glow. 

"Are you glad it's a boy, Tom?" Nancy asked as he lay down beside her. "I am. "

"Yes, " said Tom, but when she spoke to him again, he did not answer. Hewas asleep. She could see his tired face in the firelight. Life had beenhard for Tom; it was hard for most pioneers. She hoped that theirchildren would have things a little easier. The baby whimpered, and sheheld him closer. 

Denny's voice piped up: "Cousin Nancy, will Abe ever grow to be as bigas me?"

"Bigger'n you are now, " she told him. 

"Will he grow as big as Cousin Tom?"

"Bigger'n anybody, maybe. "

Nancy looked down at her son, now peacefully asleep. She made a song forhim, a song so soft it was almost a whisper: "Abe--Abe, " she crooned. "Abe Lincoln, you be going to grow--and grow--and grow!"

2

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Abraham Lincoln did grow. He seemed to grow bigger every day. By thetime he was seven, he was as tall as his sister, although Sally was twoyears older. That fall their father made a trip up to Indiana. 

"Why did Pappy go so far away?" Sally asked one afternoon. 

"When is he coming home?" asked Abe. 

"Pretty soon, most likely. "

Nancy laid down her sewing and tried to explain. Their pa had had a hardtime making a living for them. He was looking for a better farm. Tom wasalso a carpenter. Maybe some of the new settlers who were going toIndiana to live would give him work. Anyway, he thought that poor folkswere better off up there. 

Abe looked surprised. He had never thought about being poor. There wereso many things that he liked to do in Kentucky. He liked to go swimmingwith Dennis after his chores were done. There were fish to be caught andcaves to explore. He and Sally had had a chance to go to school for afew weeks. Abe could write his name, just like his father. He could readmuch better. Tom knew a few words, but his children could read wholesentences. 

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Abe leaned up against his mother. "Tell us the story with our names, " hebegged. 

Nancy put her arm around him. She often told the children stories fromthe Bible. One of their favorites was about Abraham and Sarah. "Now theLord said unto Abraham, " she began--and stopped to listen. 

The door opened, and Tom Lincoln stood grinning down at them. "Well, folks, " he said, "we're moving to Indiany. "

Nancy and the children, taken by surprise, asked questions faster thanTom could answer them. He had staked out a claim about a hundred milesto the north, at a place called Pigeon Creek. He was buying the landfrom the government and could take his time to pay for it. He wanted tostart for Indiana at once, before the weather got any colder. 

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It did not take long to get ready. A few possessions--a skillet, severalpans, the water buckets, the fire shovel, a few clothes, a homespunblanket, a patchwork quilt, and several bearskins--were packed on theback of one of the horses. Nancy and Sally rode on the other horse. Abeand his father walked. At night they camped along the way. 

When at last they reached the Ohio River, Abe stared in surprise. It wasso blue, so wide, so much bigger than the creek where he and Dennis hadgone swimming. There were so many boats. One of them, a long low raft, was called a ferry. The Lincolns went right on board with their packhorses, and it carried them across the shining water to the woodedshores of Indiana. 

Indiana was a much wilder place than Kentucky. There was no roadleading to Pigeon Creek; only a path through the forest. It was sonarrow that sometimes Tom had to clear away some underbrush before theycould go on. Or else he had to stop to cut down a tree that stood intheir way. Abe, who was big and strong for his age, had his own littleax. He helped his father all he could. 

Fourteen miles north of the river, they came to a cleared place in theforest. Tom called it his "farm. " He hastily put up a shelter--a campmade of poles and brush and leaves--where they could stay until he hadtime to build a cabin. It had only three walls. The fourth side was leftopen, and in this open space Tom built a fire. The children helped theirmother to unpack, and she mixed batter for cornbread in a big ironskillet. She cut up a squirrel that Tom had shot earlier in the day, andcooked it over the campfire. 

"Now if you will fetch me your plates, " she said, "we'll have oursupper. "

The plates were only slabs of bark. On each slab Nancy put a piece offried squirrel and a hunk of cornbread. The children sank down on one ofthe bearskins to eat their first meal in their new home. By this time itwas quite dark. They could see only a few feet beyond the circle oflight made by their campfire. 

Nancy shivered. She knew that they had neighbors. Tom had told her therewere seven other families living at Pigeon Creek. But the trees were sotall, the night so black, that she had a strange feeling that they werethe only people alive for miles around. 

"Don't you like it here, Mammy?" Abe asked. To him this camping out wasan adventure, but he wanted his mother to like it, too. 

"I'm just feeling a little cold, " she told him. 

"I like it, " said Sally decidedly. "But it is sort of scary. Are youscared, Abe?"

"Me?" Abe stuck out his chest. "What is there to be scared of?"

At that moment a long-drawn-out howl came from the forest. Anotherseemed to come from just beyond their campfire. Then another andanother--each howl louder and closer. The black curtain of the nightwas pierced by two green spots of light. The children huddled againsttheir mother, but Tom Lincoln laughed. 

"I reckon I know what you're scared of. A wolf. "

"A wolf?" Sally shrieked. 

"Yep. See its green eyes. But it won't come near our fire. "

He got up and threw on another log. As the flames blazed higher, thegreen lights disappeared. There was a crashing sound in the underbrush. 

"Hear him running away? Cowardly varmint!" Tom sat down again. "No wolfwill hurt us if we keep our fire going. "

It was a busy winter. Abe worked side by side with his father. How thatboy can chop! thought Nancy, as she heard the sound of his ax bitinginto wood. Tree after tree had to be cut down before crops could beplanted. With the coming of spring, he helped his father to plow thestumpy ground. He learned to plow a straight furrow. He planted seeds inthe furrows. 

In the meantime, some of the neighbors helped Tom build a cabin. It hadone room, with a tiny loft above. The floor was packed-down dirt. Therewere no windows. The only door was a long, up-and-down hole cut in onewall and covered by a bearskin. But Tom had made a table and severalthree-legged stools, and there was a pole bed in one corner. Nancy wasglad to be living in a real house again, and she kept it neat and clean. 

She was no longer lonely. Aunt Betsy and her husband, Uncle Thomas, brought Dennis with them from Kentucky to live in the shelter near theLincoln cabin. Several other new settlers arrived, settlers withchildren. A schoolmaster, Andrew Crawford, decided to start a school. 

"Maybe you'll have a chance to go, Abe, " Nancy told him. "You know whatthe schoolmaster down in Kentucky said. He said you were a learner. "

Abe looked up at her and smiled. He was going to like living in Indiana!

3

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But sad days were coming to Pigeon Creek. There was a terrible sickness. Aunt Betsy and Uncle Thomas died, and Dennis came to live with theLincolns. Then Nancy was taken ill. After she died, her family felt thatnothing would ever be the same again. 

Sally tried to keep house, but she was only twelve. The one little roomand the loft above looked dirtier and more and more gloomy as the weekswent by. Sally found that cooking for four people was not easy. Thesmoke from the fireplace got into her eyes. Some days Tom brought home arabbit or a squirrel for her to fry. On other days, it was too cold togo hunting. Then there was only cornbread to eat and Sally's cornbreadwasn't very good. 

It was hard to know who missed Nancy more--Tom or the children. He sataround the cabin looking cross and glum. The ground was frozen, so verylittle work could be done on the farm. He decided, when Andrew Crawfordstarted his school, that Abe and Sally might as well go. There wasnothing else for them to do, and Nancy would have wanted it. 

For the first time since his mother's death Abe seemed to cheer up. Every morning, except when there were chores to do at home, he and Sallytook a path through the woods to the log schoolhouse. Master Crawfordkept a "blab" school. The "scholars, " as he called his pupils, studiedtheir lessons out loud. The louder they shouted, the better he liked it. If a scholar didn't know his lesson, he had to stand in the corner witha long pointed cap on his head. This was called a dunce cap. 

One boy who never had to wear a dunce cap was Abe Lincoln. He was toosmart. His side won nearly every spelling match. He was good atfiguring, and he had the best handwriting of anyone at school. MasterCrawford taught reading from the Bible, but he had several other booksfrom which he read aloud. Among Abe's favorite stories were the onesabout some wise animals that talked. They were by a man named Aesop whohad lived hundreds of years before. 

Abe even made up compositions of his own. He called them "sentences. "One day he found some of the boys being cruel to a terrapin, or turtle. He made them stop. Then he wrote a composition in which he said thatanimals had feelings the same as folks. 

Sometimes Abe's sentences rhymed. There was one rhyme that the childrenthought was a great joke:

 "Abe Lincoln, his hand and pen, He will be good, but God knows when. "

"That Abe Lincoln is funny enough to make a cat laugh, " they said. 

They always had a good time watching Abe during the class in "Manners. "Once a week Master Crawford had them practice being ladies andgentlemen. One scholar would pretend to be a stranger who had justarrived in Pigeon Creek. He would leave the schoolhouse, come back, and knock at the door. Another scholar would greet "the stranger, " leadhim around the room, and introduce him. 

One day it was Abe's turn to do the introducing. He opened the door tofind his best friend, Nat Grigsby, waiting outside. Nat bowed low, fromthe waist. Abe bowed. His buckskin trousers, already too short, slippedup still farther, showing several inches of his bare leg. He looked sosolemn that some of the girls giggled. The schoolmaster frowned andpounded on his desk. The giggling stopped. 

"Master Crawford, " said Abe, "this here is Mr. Grigsby. His pa justmoved to these parts. He figures on coming to your school. "

Andrew Crawford rose and bowed. "Welcome, " he said. "Mr. Lincoln, introduce Mr. Grigsby to the other scholars. "

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The children sat on two long benches made of split logs. Abe led Natdown the length of the front bench. Each girl rose and made a curtsy. Nat bowed. Each boy rose and bowed. Nat returned the bow. Abe keptsaying funny things under his breath that the schoolmaster could nothear. But the children heard, and they could hardly keep from laughingout loud. 

Sally sat on the second bench. "Mrs. Lincoln, " said Abe in a highfalsetto voice, "this here be Mr. Grigsby. "

While she was making her curtsy, Sally's cheeks suddenly grew red. "Don't let on I told you, Mr. Grigsby, " Abe whispered, "but Mrs. Lincolnbakes the worst cornbread of anyone in Pigeon Creek. "

Sally forgot that they were having a lesson in manners. "Don't you daretalk about my cornbread, " she said angrily. 

The little log room rocked with laughter. This time Master Crawford hadalso heard Abe's remark. He walked over to the corner where he kept abundle of switches. He picked one up and laid it across his desk. 

"We'll have no more monkeyshines, " he said severely. "Go on with theintroducing. "

One day Abe almost got into real trouble. He had started for schoolearly, as he often did, so that he could read one of Master Crawford'sbooks. He was feeling sad as he walked through the woods; he seemed tomiss his mother more each day. When he went into the schoolhouse, helooked up and saw a pair of deer antlers. Master Crawford had gonehunting. He had shot a deer and nailed the antlers above the door. 

What a wonderful place to swing! thought Abe. He leaped up and caughthold of the prongs. He began swinging back and forth. 

CRASH! One prong came off in his hand, and he fell to the floor. Hehurried to his seat, hoping that the master would not notice. 

But Master Crawford was proud of those antlers. When he saw what hadhappened, he picked up the switch on his desk. It made a swishing soundas he swung it back and forth. 

"Who broke my deer antlers?" he shouted. 

No one answered. Abe hunched down as far as he could on the bench. Heseemed to be trying to hide inside his buckskin shirt. 

Master Crawford repeated his question. "Who broke my deer antlers? Iaim to find out, if I have to thrash every scholar in this school. "

All of the children looked scared, Abe most of all. But he stood up. Hemarched up to Master Crawford's desk and held out the broken prong thathe had been hiding in his hand. 

"I did it, sir, " he said. "I didn't mean to do it, but I hung on theantlers and they broke. I wouldn't have done it, if I had thought they'da broke. "

The other scholars thought that Abe would get a licking. Instead, MasterCrawford told him to stay in after school. They had a long talk. Heliked Abe's honesty in owning up to what he had done. He knew how muchhe missed his mother. Perhaps he understood that sometimes a boy "cutsup" to try to forget how sad he feels. 

Abe felt sadder than ever after Master Crawford moved away from PigeonCreek. Then Tom Lincoln left. One morning he rode off on horsebackwithout telling anyone where he was going. Several days went by. Eveneasy-going Dennis was worried when Tom did not return. 

Abe did most of the chores. In the evening he practiced his sums. MasterCrawford had taught him to do easy problems in arithmetic, and he didnot want to forget what he had learned. He had no pen, no ink, not evena piece of paper. He took a burnt stick from the fireplace and workedhis sums on a flat board. 

He wished that he had a book to read. Instead, he tried to remember thestories that the schoolmaster had told. He repeated them to Sally andDennis, as they huddled close to the fire to keep warm. He said themagain to himself after he went to bed in the loft. 

There were words in some of the stories that Abe did not understand. Hetried to figure out what the words meant. He thought about the people inthe stories. He thought about the places mentioned and wondered whatthey were like. 

There were thoughts inside Abraham Lincoln's head that even Sally didnot know anything about. 

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Abe took another bite of cornbread and swallowed hard. "Don't you likeit?" asked Sally anxiously. "I know it doesn't taste like the cornbreadMammy used to make. "

She looked around the room. The furniture was the same as their motherhad used--a homemade table and a few three-legged stools. The samebearskin hung before the hole in the wall that was their only door. ButNancy had kept the cabin clean. She had known how to build a fire thatdidn't smoke. Sally glanced down at her faded linsey-woolsey dress, soiled with soot. The dirt floor felt cold to her bare feet. Her lastpair of moccasins had worn out weeks ago. 

"I don't mind the cornbread--at least, not much. " Abe finished hispiece, down to the last crumb. "If I seem down in the mouth, Sally, itis just because--"

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He walked over to the fireplace, where he stood with his back to theroom. 

"He misses Nancy, " said Dennis bluntly, "the same as the rest of us. Then Tom has been gone for quite a spell. "

Sally put her hand on Abe's shoulder. "I'm scared. Do you reckonsomething has happened to Pappy? Isn't he ever coming back?"

Abe stared into the fire. He was thinking of the wolves and panthersloose in the woods. There were many dangers for a man riding alone overthe rough forest paths. The boy wanted to say something to comfortSally, but he had to tell the truth. "I don't know, I--"

He stopped to listen. Few travelers passed by their cabin in the winter, but he was sure that he heard a faint noise in the distance. It soundedlike the creak of wheels. The noise came again--this time much closer. Aman's voice was shouting: "Get-up! Get-up!"

"Maybe it's Pappy!" Abe pushed aside the bearskin and rushed outside. Sally and Dennis were right behind him. 

"It _is_ Pappy, " Sally cried. "But look--"

Tom Lincoln had left Pigeon Creek on horseback. He was returning in awagon drawn by four horses. He was not alone. A strange woman sat besidehim, holding a small boy in her lap. Two girls, one about Sally's age, the other about eight, stood behind her. The wagon was piled high withfurniture--more furniture than the Lincoln children had ever seen. 

"Whoa, there!" Tom Lincoln pulled at the reins and brought the wagon toa stop before the door. 

"Here we are, Sarah. " He jumped down and held out his hand to help thewoman. 

She was very neat looking, tall and straight, with neat little curlsshowing at the edge of her brown hood. She said, "Tsch! Tsch!" when shesaw Tom's children. She stared at their soiled clothing, their mattedhair, their faces smudged with soot. "Tsch! Tsch!" she said again, andAbe felt hot all over in spite of the cold wind. He dug the toe of hismoccasin into the frozen ground. 

"Abe! Sally!" their father said. "I've brought you a new mammy. Thishere is the Widow Johnston. That is, she was the Widow Johnston. " Hecleared his throat. "She is Mrs. Lincoln now. I've been back to Kentuckyto get myself a wife. "

"Howdy!" The new Mrs. Lincoln was trying to sound cheerful. She beckonedto the children in the wagon. They jumped down and stood beside her. "These here are my young ones, " she went on. "The big gal is Betsy. Theother one is Mathilda. This little shaver is Johnny. "

Dennis came forward to be introduced, but he had eyes only for Betsy. She gave him a coy look out of her china-blue eyes. Tilda smiled shylyat Sally. Both of the Johnston girls wore pretty linsey-woolsey dressesunder their shawls and neat moccasins on their feet. Sally, looking downat her own soiled dress and bare toes, wished that she could run awayand hide. Abe said "Howdy" somewhere down inside his stomach. 

Sarah, Tom's new wife, looked around the littered yard, then at thecabin. It did not even have a window! It did not have a door that wouldopen and shut--only a ragged bearskin flapping in the wind. She hadknown Tom since he was a boy and had always liked him. Her firsthusband, Mr. Johnston, had died some time before, and when Tom hadreturned to Kentucky and asked her to marry him, she had said yes. Hehad told her that his children needed a mother's care, and he was right. 

Poor young ones! she thought. Aloud she said, "Well, let's not allstand out here and freeze. Can't we go inside and get warm?"

The inside of the cabin seemed almost as cold as the outdoors. And evenmore untidy. Johnny clung to his mother's skirt and started to cry. Hewanted to go back to Kentucky. His sisters peered through the gloom, trying to see in the dim light. Sally was sure that they were looking ather. She sat down hastily and tucked her feet as far back as she couldunder the stool. Abe stood quite still, watching this strange woman whohad come without warning to take his mother's place. 

She smiled at him. He did not smile back. 

Slowly she turned and looked around. Her clear gray eyes took in everynook, every crack of the miserable little one-room house. She noticedthe dirty bearskins piled on the pole bed in the corner. She saw thepegs in the wall that led to the loft. The fire smoldering in thefireplace gave out more smoke than heat. 

"The first thing we'd better do, " she said, taking off her bonnet, "isto build up that fire. Then we'll get some victuals ready. I reckoneverybody will feel better when we've had a bite to eat. "

From that moment things began to happen in the Lincoln cabin. Tom wentout to the wagon to unhitch the horses. Dennis brought in more firewood. Abe and Mathilda started for the spring, swinging the water pail betweenthem. Betsy mixed a fresh batch of cornbread in the iron skillet, andSally set it on the hearth to bake. Tom came back from the wagon, carrying a comb of honey and a slab of bacon, and soon the magic smellof frying bacon filled the air. There were no dishes, but Sally keptlarge pieces of bark in the cupboard. Eight people sat down at the onelittle table, but no one seemed to mind that it was crowded. 

The Lincoln children had almost forgotten how good bacon could taste. Abe ate in silence, his eyes on his plate. Sally seemed to feel muchbetter. Sitting between her stepsisters, she was soon chattering withthem as though they were old friends. Once she called the new Mrs. Lincoln "Mamma, " just as her own daughters did. Dennis sat on the otherside of Betsy. He seemed to be enjoying himself most of all. He soppedup his last drop of golden honey on his last piece of cornbread. 

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"I declare, " he said, grinning, "we ain't had a meal like this sinceNancy died. "

Abe jumped up at the mention of his mother's name. He was afraid that hewas going to cry. He had started for the door, when he felt his father'srough hand on his shoulder. 

"Abe Lincoln, you set right down there and finish your cornbread. "

Abe looked up at Tom out of frightened gray eyes. But he shook his head. "I can't, Pa. "

"A nice way to treat your new ma!" Tom Lincoln sounded both angry andembarrassed. "You clean up your plate or I'll give you a good hiding. "

The young Johnstons gasped. Abe could hear Sally's whisper: "Please, Abe! Do as Pa says. " Then he heard another voice. 

"Let the boy be, Tom. " It was Sarah Lincoln speaking. 

There was something about the way she said it that made Abe decide tocome back and sit down. He managed somehow to eat the rest of hiscornbread. He looked up and saw that she was smiling at him again. Healmost smiled back. 

Sarah looked relieved. "Abe and I, " she said, "are going to have plentyof chance to get acquainted. "

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Sarah Rose from the table. "There's a lot of work to be done here, " sheannounced, "before we can bring in my plunder. " She meant her furnitureand other possessions in the wagon. "First, we'll need plenty of hotwater. Who wants to go to the spring?"

She was looking at Abe. "I'll go, ma'am. " He grabbed the water bucketand hurried through the door. 

Abe made several trips to the spring that afternoon. Each bucket full ofwater that he brought back was poured into the big iron kettle over thefireplace. Higher and higher roared the flames. When Sarah wasn't askingfor more water, she was asking for more wood. The steady chop-chop ofTom's ax could be heard from the wood lot. 

Everyone was working, even Dennis. Sarah gave him a pan of soap and hotwater and told him to wash the cabin walls. The girls scrubbed thetable, the three-legged stools, and the corner cupboard inside and out. Sarah climbed the peg ladder to peer into the loft. 

"Tsch! Tsch!" she said, when she saw the corn husks and dirty bearskinson which the boys had been sleeping. "Take them out and burn them, Tom. "

"Burn them?" he protested. 

"Yes, and burn the covers on the downstairs bed, too. I reckon I haveenough feather beds and blankets to go around. We're starting fresh inthis house. We'll soon have it looking like a different place. "

Not since Nancy died had the cabin had such a thorough cleaning. Thencame the most remarkable part of that remarkable afternoon--theunloading of the wagon. Sarah's pots and pans shone from much scouring. Her wooden platters and dishes were spotless. And the furniture! She hadchairs with real backs, a table, and a big chest filled with clothes. There was one bureau that had cost forty-five dollars. Abe ran hisfinger over the shining dark wood. Sarah hung a small mirror above itand he gasped when he looked at his reflection. This was the firstlooking glass that he had ever seen. 

Most remarkable of all were the feather beds. One was laid on the polebed, downstairs. Another was placed on a clean bearskin in the oppositecorner to provide a sleeping place for the girls. The third was carriedto the loft for the three boys. When Abe went to bed that night, he sankdown gratefully into the comfortable feathers. The homespun blanket thatcovered him was soft and warm. 

On either side, Dennis and Johnny were asleep. Abe lay between them, wide awake, staring into the darkness. The new Mrs. Lincoln was good andkind. He knew that. She had seemed pleased when Sally called her"Mamma. " Somehow he couldn't. There was still a lonesome place in hisheart for his own mother. 

Something else was worrying him. Before going to bed, Sarah Lincoln hadlooked at him and Sally out of her calm gray eyes. "Tomorrow I aim tomake you young ones look more human, " she said. Abe wondered what shemeant. 

He found out the next morning. Tom and Dennis left early to go hunting. Abe went out to chop wood for the fireplace. When he came back, he metthe three girls going down the path. Sally was walking between her twostepsisters, but what a different Sally! She wore a neat, pretty dressthat had belonged to Betsy. She had on Sarah's shawl. Her hair wascombed in two neat pigtails. Her face had a clean, scrubbed look. Hereyes were sparkling. She was taking Betsy and Mathilda to call on one ofthe neighbors. 

"Good-by, Mamma, " she called. 

Sarah stood in the doorway, waving to the girls. Then she saw Abe, hisarms piled high with wood. "Come in, " she said. "Sally has had her bath. Now I've got a tub of good hot water and a gourd full of soap waitingfor you. Skedaddle out of those old clothes and throw them in the fire. "

"I ain't got any others. " Abe looked terrified. 

"I don't aim to pluck your feathers without giving you some new ones. "Sarah laughed. "I sat up late last night, cutting down a pair of Mr. Johnston's old pants. I got a shirt, too, laid out here on the bed. "

Slowly Abe started taking off his shirt. He looked fearfully at the tubof hot water. 

"There's no call to be scared, " said Sarah. "That tub won't bite. NowI'm going down to the spring. By the time I get back, I want you to haveyourself scrubbed all over. "

Abe stuck one toe into the water. He said, "Ouch!" and drew it out. Hethen tried again, and put in his whole foot. He put in his other foot. He sat down in the tub. By the time Sarah returned he was standingbefore the fire, dressed in the cut-down trousers and shirt of the lateMr. Johnston. 

Sarah seemed pleased. "You look like a different boy, " she said. "Thosetrousers are a mite too big, but you'll soon grow into them. "

Abe was surprised how good it felt to be clean again. "Thank you, ma'am. Now I'd better get in some more wood. "

"We have plenty of wood, " said Sarah. "You see that stool? You sit downand let me get at your hair. It looks like a heap of underbrush. "

Abe watched anxiously when she opened the top drawer of the bureau andtook out a haw comb and a pair of scissors. I'll stand for it this time, he thought, because she's been so good to us. But if she pulls toohard--

Mrs. Lincoln _did_ pull. But when Abe said "Ouch!" she patted hisshoulder and waited a moment. He closed his eyes and screwed up hisface, but he said nothing more. Perhaps she couldn't help pulling, hedecided. Lock after lock she snipped off. He began to wonder if he wasgoing to have any hair left by the time she got through. 

"I've been watching you, Abe. You're a right smart boy, " she said. "Hadmuch schooling?"

"I've just been to school by littles. "

"Have you a mind to go again?"

"There ain't any school since Master Crawford left. Anyhow, Pappydoesn't set much store by eddication. "

[Illustration]

"What do you mean, Abe?"

"He says I know how to read and write and cipher and that's enough foranyone. "

"You can read?" she asked. 

"Yes'm, but I haven't any books. "

"You can read and you haven't any books. I have books and I can't read. "

Abe looked at her, amazed. "You have _books_?"

Sarah nodded, but said nothing more until she had finished cutting hishair. Then she led him over to the bureau. 

"Now see if you don't like yourself better without that brush heap ontop of your head, " she asked him. 

A boy with short neat hair gazed back at Abe from the mirror. 

"I still ain't the prettiest boy in Pigeon Creek, " he drawled, "butthere ain't quite so much left to be ugly. I'm right glad, ma'am, youcleared away the brush heap. "

Was he joking? He looked so solemn that Sarah could not be sure. Then hegrinned. It was the first time that she had seen him smile. 

"You're a caution, Abe, " she said. "Now sit yourself down over there atthe table, and I'll show you my books. "

She opened the top drawer of the bureau and took out four worn littlevolumes. Although she could not read, she knew the titles: "Here theyare: _Robinson Crusoe_, _Pilgrim's Progress_, _Sinbad the Sailor_, and_Aesop's Fables_. "

"Oh, ma'am, this book by Mr. Aesop is one the schoolmaster had. Thestories are all about some smart talking animals. "

He seemed to have forgotten her, as he bent his neat shorn head downover the pages. He chuckled when he read something that amused him. Sarah watched him curiously. He was not like her John. He was not likeany boy that she had ever known. But the hungry look in his eyes wentstraight to her heart. 

[Illustration]

He looked up at her shyly. "Ma'am, " he said, "will you let me read thesebooks sometimes?"

"Why, Abe, you can read them any time you like. I'm giving them to youto keep. "

"Oh, _Mamma_!" The name slipped out as though he were used to saying it. He had a feeling that Nancy, his own mother, had never gone away. 

"You're my boy, now, " Sarah told him, "and I aim to help you all I can. The next time a school keeps in these parts, I'm going to ask your pappyto let you and the other children go. "

"Thank you, ma'am, " said Abe. "I mean--thank you, Mamma. "

6

[Illustration]

Many changes were taking place in the Lincoln cabin. Sarah persuaded Tomto cut two holes in the walls for windows, and she covered them withgreased paper to let in the light. He made a wooden door that could beshut against the cold winter winds. Abe and Dennis gave the walls andlow ceiling a coat of whitewash, and Sarah spread her bright rag rugs onthe new wooden floor. 

"Aunt Sairy, " Dennis told her, "you're some punkins. One just naturallyhas to be somebody when you're around. "

Abe smiled up at her shyly. "It is sort of like the magic in that storyof Sinbad you gave me. "

The other children were asleep. Abe sprawled on the floor, making markson a wooden shovel with a pointed stick. Tom, seated in one of hiswife's chairs, was dozing on one side of the fireplace. 

Sarah put down her knitting and looked around the cabin. "The placedoes look right cozy, " she replied. "What is that you're doing, Abe?"

"Working my sums. "

Tom opened his eyes. "You know how to figure enough already. Put thatshovel up and go to bed. "

Abe took a knife and scraped the figures from the wooden shovel. Heplaced it against one side of the fireplace. "Good night, Mamma, " hesaid. 

"Good night, Abe. "

Sarah's eyes were troubled. She waited until Dennis had joined Abe inthe loft, then turned to her husband. "I've been meaning to tell you, Tom, what a good pa you've been to my young ones. "

She saw that he was pleased. "I've tried to be a good mother to Abe andSally, too, " she went on. 

"You have been, Sairy. They took to you right off. "

"I'm right glad, but there's something else I want to talk to you about, Tom. " He was nodding again in his chair, and she paused to make surethat he was listening. "Abe's a smart boy. I told him the next time aschool keeps in these parts, I'd ask you to let him and the otherchildren go. "

"Humph!" Tom grunted. "There ain't any school for him to go to. Anyway, he wastes enough time as 'tis. He's always got his nose buried in thosebooks you brought. "

"That bothers me, too. I saw you cuff him the other day because he wasreading. "

"I had to, Sairy. I told him to come out and chop some wood, but he upand laughed in my face. "

"He wasn't laughing at you, Tom. He was laughing at Sinbad. "

"Who in tarnation is Sinbad?"

"A fellow in one of his books. Abe said that Sinbad sailed his flatboatup to a rock, and the rock was magnetized and pulled all the nails outof his boat. Then Sinbad fell into the water. "

"That's what I mean, " Tom exploded. "Dennis told him that book was mostlikely lies, but Abe keeps on reading it. Where is all this booklearning going to get him? More'n I ever had. "

"Maybe the Lord meant for young ones to be smarter than their parents, "said Sarah, "or the world might never get any better. "

Tom shook his head in dismay. "Women and their fool notions! If I don'twatch out, you'll be spoiling the boy more'n his own mammy did. "

Sarah's cheeks were red as she bent over her knitting. Tom was rightabout one thing. There was no school for Abe to go to. But some daythere would be. Every few weeks another clearing was made in the forest, and the neighbors gathered for a "house raising" to help put up a cabin. Then smoke would rise from a new chimney, and another new home would bestarted in the wilderness. 

With so many new settlers, there was usually plenty of work for Abe. Whenever Tom did not need him at home, he hired out at twenty-five centsa day. He gave this money to his father. That was the law, Tom said. Notuntil Abe was twenty-one would he be allowed to keep his wages forhimself. As a hired boy, he plowed corn, chopped wood, and did all kindsof chores. He did not like farming, but he managed to have fun. 

"Pa taught me to work, " Abe told one farmer who had hired him, "but henever taught me to love it. "

The farmer scratched his head. He couldn't understand a boy who wasalways reading, and if Abe wasn't reading he was telling jokes. Thefarmer thought that Abe was lazy. 

"Sometimes, " the farmer said, "I get awful mad at you, Abe Lincoln. Youcrack your jokes and spin your yarns, if you want to, while the men areeating their dinner. But don't you keep them from working. "

The other farm hands liked to gather around Abe when they stopped to eattheir noon meal. Sometimes he would stand on a tree stump and"speechify. " The men would become so interested that they would be lategetting back to the fields. Other times he would tell them stories thathe had read in books or that he had heard from some traveler who hadpassed through Pigeon Creek. He nearly always had a funny story to tell. 

[Illustration]

Yet there was "something peculiarsome about Abe, " as Dennis Hanks oncesaid. He would be laughing one minute; the next minute he would looksolemn and sad. He would walk along the narrow forest trails, a farawaylook in his eyes. Someone would say "Howdy, Abe. " Then he would grin andstart "cracking jokes" again. 

Although he worked such long hours, Abe still found time to read. He satup late and got up early in the morning, and Sarah made the childrenkeep quiet when he wanted to study. Sometimes he took a book to workwith him. Instead of talking to the other farm hands at noon, he'd gooff by himself and read a few pages while he ate his dinner. People formiles around loaned him books. Sometimes he walked fifteen miles toRockport, the county seat, to borrow books from John Pitcher, the townlawyer. 

"Everything I want to know is in books, " he told Dennis. "My best friendis a man who can give me a book I ain't read. "

Late one afternoon, about two years after Sarah had arrived, Abe camehome with a new book under his arm. Tom and Dennis had joined several oftheir neighbors in a big bear hunt and planned to be gone for severaldays. Abe planned to read--and read--and read. 

"What do you think, Mamma?" he asked. "I have a chance to read theDeclaration of Independence. "

Sarah smiled into his eager eyes. "Now isn't that nice?"

He showed her the book. It belonged to David Turnham, the constable. Mr. Turnham had said that Abe might borrow it for several days, if hepromised to be careful. 

"What is it about?" Sarah asked. 

"It has the laws of Indiana in it, and it tells how the government ofour country was started. " Abe's voice took on a new tone of excitement. "It has the Declaration of Independence in it and the Constitution, too. "

He pulled a stool up to the fire and began to read. There was no soundin the little cabin except the steady click-click of Sarah's knittingneedles. She glanced at him now and then. This tall, awkward boy hadbecome very dear to her. As dear as her own children, perhaps evendearer, but he was harder to understand. No matter how much he learned, he wanted to learn more. He was always hungry, hungry for knowledge--nothungry for bacon and cornbread the way Johnny was. The idea made herchuckle. 

Abe did not hear. He laid the book on his knee and stared into theflames. His lips were moving, although he made no sound. 

"What are you saying to yourself?" Sarah asked. "You look so far away. "

"Why, Mamma. " Abe looked up with a start. "I was just recollecting someof the words out of the Declaration of Independence. It says all men arecreated equal. "

"You don't mean to tell me!" Sarah was pleased because Abe was. 

"I'm going to learn as much of the Declaration as I can by heart, beforeI take the book back, " he said. "That way I can always keep the words. "

"I declare, " said Sarah, "you grow new ideas inside your head as fast asyou add inches on top of it. "

7

[Illustration]

Abe went right on adding inches. By the time he was fourteen he was astall as his father. Sally was working as a hired girl that summer forMr. And Mrs. Josiah Crawford. Abe worked for them off and on. Oneafternoon he finished his chores early, and Mrs. Crawford sent him home. Abe was glad. Josiah had lent him a new book--a life of GeorgeWashington--and he wanted to start reading it. 

When he reached the Lincoln cabin, he found Betsy and Mathilda waitingoutside for their mother. She stood before the mirror in the cabinputting on her sunbonnet. 

"Your pa and Dennis have gone squirrel hunting, " she said, as she tiedthe strings in a neat bow beneath her chin. "The gals and I are going tovisit a new neighbor. Will you keep an eye on Johnny and put some'taters on to boil for supper?"

"Oh, Ma, not potatoes again?"

"They will be right tasty with a mess of squirrel. Before you put the'taters on--"

Abe patted the book inside his shirt front. "I can read?" he asked. 

"You can, after you go down to the horse trough and wash your head. "

"Wash my head? How come?" Abe wailed. 

"Take a look at that ceiling, and you'll know how come. See that darkspot? Your head made that. You're getting so tall you bump into theceiling every time you climb into the loft. "

Abe rolled his eyes upward. "If some of that learning I've got cooped upin my head starts leaking out, how can I help it?"

Sarah refused to be put off by any of his foolishness. "When you trackdirt into the house, I can wash the floor, " she said. "But I can't getto the ceiling so easy. It needs a new coat of whitewash, but there's nouse in doing it if your head ain't clean. "

"All right, " said Abe meekly. 

"Take a gourdful of soap with you, " said Sarah. "And mind you, noreading until you finish washing your hair. "

He grumbled under his breath as he walked down to the horse trough. Witha new book waiting to be read, washing his hair seemed a waste of time. But if that was what Sarah wanted, he would do it. He lathered his headwith soap and ducked it into the water. Some of the soap got into hiseyes and he began to sputter. He heard a giggle. 

"Hey, Johnny, is that you?" he said. "Get a bucket of water--quick!"

Johnny, the eight-year-old stepbrother, was glad to oblige. He pouredbucket after bucket of water over Abe's head. Finally all of the soap wasrinsed out of his hair. Abe took the tail of his shirt and wiped the soapout of his eyes. Both boys were covered with water. The ground around thehorse trough was like a muddy little swamp. Johnny was delighted. He likedto feel the mud squish up between his toes. 

[Illustration]

"Look at me, Abe, " he shouted. "Ain't we having fun?"

Abe took his young stepbrother by the hand. His eyes were twinkling. "I've thought of something else that's fun. Come on, we're going to playa joke on Mamma. "

When Sarah returned to the cabin late that afternoon, she noticed thatAbe's hair was still damp. He was very quiet as he stood by thefireplace and swung the big kettle outward. He dipped out the potatoeswith an iron spoon. Tom and Dennis came in, both somewhat grumpy. Theyhad not brought back a single squirrel. 

Only Johnny seemed in good spirits. He whispered in Mathilda's ear. Theyboth began to giggle. By the time the family had gathered around thetable, Betsy and Dennis had been let in on the secret, whatever it was. They were red in the face from trying not to laugh. 

"Quiet!" said Tom. "Quiet, while I say the blessing. "

"We thank thee. Lord--" he began. 

Tom usually gave thanks for each kind of food on the table. But todaythere was only a dish of dried-up potatoes. "We thank Thee, Lord, " hewent on, "for all these blessings. "

"Mighty poor blessings, " said Abe. 

The girls giggled again. Dennis threw back his head and roared. Johnnywas laughing so hard that he fell off his stool. He lay on the floor, rolling and shrieking. 

"I wish you young ones would stop carrying on, " said Sarah, "and tell mewhat you're carrying on about. "

[Illustration]

"Oh, Mamma, can't you see?" said Betsy. "Look up. "

Sarah gasped. Marching across the cabin ceiling were the muddy marks oftwo bare feet. 

"Don't they look like Johnny's feet?" Mathilda asked. 

"Johnny Johnston, you come right here, " said Sarah sternly. 

Johnny picked himself up from the rag rug before the fireplace. He wentover and stood before his mother. His blue eyes danced. This was onescolding that he looked forward to. 

"Now tell me the truth. What do you mean by--"

Sarah paused. She could hardly scold her son for walking on the ceiling. 

Johnny had been told exactly what to say. "I got my feet all muddy downat the horse trough, " he explained. "Then I walked on the ceiling. "

"You walked on the ceiling? Johnny Johnston, you know it's wicked tolie. "

"I'm not lying. Those are my footprints. "

Sarah looked again. The footprints were too small to belong to anyonebut Johnny. She looked at Abe. He seemed to have taken a sudden likingfor boiled potatoes and kept his eyes on his plate. 

"Abe Lincoln, is this some of your tomfoolery?"

"I--I reckon so. "

"But how--"

"It was easy, " Johnny interrupted. "I held my legs stiff and Abe held meupside down, and I walked. "

Abe stood up, pushing back his stool. He glanced toward the door. 

Sarah was not often angry. When she was, she reminded her children of amother hen ruffling its feathers. "Well, Abe, have you got anything tosay for yourself?"

Abe shook his head. Suddenly his joke did not seem quite so funny. 

"I declare!" said Sarah. "A big boy like you! You ought to be spanked. "

The children looked at tall, lanky Abe towering over their mother. Theyburst out laughing again. "Mamma's going to spank Abe!" they chanted. "Mamma's going to spank Abe. "

Dennis brought both hands down on the table with a loud whack. "That's agood one, that is, " he roared. 

Sarah threw her apron over her head. The children watched the peculiarway the apron began to shake. When she took it down, they saw that shewas laughing. She was laughing so hard that the tears ran down hercheeks. 

"I reckon I'll have to let you off, Abe, " she said. "You'd be a mite toobig for me to handle. "

Tom jumped up. "He ain't too big for me. He ain't too big for agood-sized hickory switch. "

Sarah bit her lip, her own brief anger forgotten. "Now, Tom, " sheprotested. 

"You ain't going to talk me out of it this time. "

"I--I was aiming to whitewash the ceiling, Pa, " said Abe. "Ma said itneeded a fresh coat. "

Sarah looked relieved. "That is exactly what he can do. Whitewash theceiling. "

"He can after I've given him a licking. "

Sarah put out her hand. "Sit down, Tom, and finish your 'taters beforethey get cold. I figure it this way. Before Abe starts reading that newbook, he can whitewash the ceiling. The walls, too. That ought to learnhim not to cut up any more didos. "

Sarah pulled down her mouth, trying to look stern. Tom sat down andstarted to eat his potato. 

"You're a good one, Sairy, " he chuckled. "You sure know how to get workout of him. "

Abe looked at her gratefully. At the same time he was disappointed. Hehad been thinking about that book all afternoon. 

The next morning Sarah shooed everyone out of the cabin. Abe was down bythe horse trough, mixing the whitewash in a big tub. By the time hereturned, she had a bucket of hot water and a gourdful of soft soapready. After washing the inside of the cabin he got busy with thewhitewash. First he did the walls. Then he did the rafters and theceiling. He cocked his head, gazing at the muddy footprints. 

"They make a right pretty picture, ma'am. Shall I leave them on fordecoration?"

Sarah, seated on a stool by the fireplace, looked up from her sewing. "Abe, you big scamp. You get that ceiling nice and white, or I'll becarrying out my threat. "

The corners of her mouth were twitching. Abe grinned, glad to be atpeace with her again. 

"After I finish here, " he asked, "do you have any more chores?"

"No, Abe. I reckon there will be time for you to do some reading. Butfirst, you finish your whitewashing. Then there's something I want totalk to you about. "

Abe dipped his brush into the whitewash again and again, until he hadcovered up the last telltale mark of Johnny's feet. The cabin was brightand shining when he finished. He pulled another stool up to thefireplace and sat facing Sarah. 

"I wasn't meaning to tell you just yet, " she said. "Leastways until Ihad a chance to talk to your pa. "

"What is it, Mamma?"

"There's a new neighbor come to Pigeon Creek, " she said. "Man by thename of James Swaney. He is farming now, but he is fixing to keep aschool next winter. "

Abe jumped up and stood looking down at her. "Do you reckon that Pa--"

"Your pa is worried, " Sarah interrupted. "Money-worried. He may have tosell some of his land. That's why he gets riled so easy--likeyesterday. "

Abe flushed. 

"I want you to be careful, " said Sarah. "Try not to get his dander up. "

"I'll try not to. "

"Maybe you recollect what I promised you when I first came. I said I'dask your pa to let you go to school again. Now I'm a body that believesin keeping my promises. I just want to wait till he feels good. "

Sarah's sewing basket spilled to the floor, as Abe pulled her to herfeet. He put his long arms around her waist and gave her a good bearhug. 

"Abe Lincoln, you're most choking me, " she said breathlessly. "Here Iwas thinking how grown up you were getting to be. Now you be acting likea young one again. "

Abe kissed her on the cheek. 

8

[Illustration]

Abe sat up late, holding his book close to the flickering flames in thefireplace. As the rain drummed on the roof, his thoughts were far away. He was with General Washington in a small boat crossing the DelawareRiver on a cold Christmas night many years before. He was fighting thebattle of Trenton with a handful of brave American soldiers. They musthave wanted very much to be free, he decided, to be willing to fight sohard and suffer so much. 

"Isn't it getting too dark for you to see?" Sarah called sleepily. 

"Yes, Mamma. "

Carefully Abe placed the precious little volume between two logs in thewall of the cabin. This was his bookcase. As he climbed into the loft hewondered if the book told about the time George Washington becamePresident. He would have to wait until morning to find out. 

He was up early. But his face grew pale when he reached for the book. During the night the rain had leaked in on it through a crack in thelogs. The pages were wet and stuck together. The binding was warped. Sally was starting down the path toward the Crawford cabin when Abecalled after her. 

"Wait! I'm coming with you. "

He thrust the book inside his buckskin shirt. Sally tried to comforthim, but Abe kept wondering what Mr. Crawford was going to say. He was alittle scared of Josiah. Some of the boys called him "Old Bluenose"because of the large purple vein on the side of his nose. It made himlook rather cross. He probably would want Abe to pay for the book, andAbe had no money. 

He opened the Crawford gate and marched up to the kitchen door. Josiah, his wife Elizabeth, and Sammy, their little boy, were having breakfast. When Abe explained what had happened, Mrs. Crawford patted his shoulder. He liked her. She was always nice to him, but he knew that her husbandwas the one who would decide about the book. Josiah took it in his bighands and looked at the stained pages. 

"Well, Abe, " he said slowly, "I won't be hard on you. If you want topull fodder three days for me, that ought to pay for the book. "

"Starting right now?"

"Yep, starting right now. " Josiah was actually smiling. "Then you canhave the book to keep. "

Abe caught his breath. What a lucky boy he was! Three days' work and hecould keep the book! He would have a chance to read about GeorgeWashington any time he wanted to. 

Never had he worked harder or faster than he did that morning. When thenoon dinner bell rang, he seemed to be walking on air as he followedJosiah into the cabin. Sally was putting dinner on the table. Abeslipped up behind her and pulled one of her pigtails. Taken by surprise, she jumped and dropped a pitcher of cream. The pitcher did not break, but the cream spilled and spread over the kitchen floor. 

[Illustration]

"Abe Lincoln! Look what you made me do!" cried Sally. "I just washedthat floor. And look at that good cream going to waste. "

"'Tain't going to waste. " Abe pointed to Elizabeth Crawford's cat, whichwas lapping up the delicious yellow stream. Then he began to sing:"Cat's in the cream jar, shoo, shoo, shoo!"

"Stop trying to show off!" said Sally. 

She was angry, but Sammy, Elizabeth's little boy, shouted with delight. That was all the encouragement Abe needed. The fact that he could notcarry a tune did not seem to bother him. 

 "Cat's in the cream jar, shoo, shoo, shoo! Cat's in the cream jar, shoo, shoo, shoo! Skip to my Lou, my darling. "

Sally was down on her hands and knees, wiping up the cream. "Stopsinging that silly song, and help me. "

Instead, Abe danced a jig. He leaned down and pulled her other pigtail. 

[Illustration]

"Sally's in the cream jar, shoo, shoo, shoo. "

"That's enough, Abe, " said Elizabeth Crawford. 

"Skip to my Lou, my darling. " He whirled around on his bare feet andmade a sweeping bow. Sally was close to tears. 

"Abe, I told you to stop, " said Elizabeth Crawford. "You ought to beashamed, teasing your sister. If you keep on acting that way, what doyou think is going to become of you?"

"Me?" Abe drew himself up. "What's going to become of me? I'm going tobe President. "

Elizabeth looked at him, a lanky barefoot boy with trousers too short. His shirt was in rags. His black hair was tousled. She sank into achair, shaking with laughter. "A pretty President you'd make, nowwouldn't you?"

She had no sooner spoken than she wanted to take back the words. All ofthe joy went out of his face. Sally was too angry to notice. 

"Maybe you're going to be President, " she said. "But first you'd betterlearn to behave. "

"I--I was just funning, Sally. "

Something in his voice made Sally look up. She saw the hurt expressionin his eyes. "I know you were, " she said hastily. "I'm not mad anymore. "

Abe ate his dinner in silence. He did not seem to be the same boy whohad been cutting up only a few minutes before. Elizabeth kept tellingherself that she should not have laughed at him. He did try to show offsometimes. But he was a good boy. She thought more of him than of any ofthe other young folks in Pigeon Creek. Not for anything would she havehurt his feelings. When he pushed back his stool, she followed him outinto the yard. 

"About your being President, " she said. "I wasn't aiming to make fun ofyou. I just meant that you--with all your tricks and jokes--"

"I reckon I know what you meant, " said Abe quietly. "All the same, Mrs. Crawford, I don't always mean to delve and grub and such like. "

There was a look of determination on his face that she had not seenbefore. "I think a heap of you, " she went on, "and I don't want to seeyou disappointed. It's a fine thing to be ambitious. But don't letreading about George Washington give you notions that can't come toanything. "

Abe threw back his shoulders. "I aim to study and get ready and then thechance will come. "

He lifted his battered straw hat, and started down the path toward thefield. He walked with dignity. Elizabeth had not realized that he was sotall. 

"I declare, " she said, "he really means it!"

Sammy had come up and heard her. "Means what. Mamma?" he asked. 

Elizabeth took his hand. "Didn't you know, Sammy? Abe is fixing to bePresident some day. "

9

[Illustration]

On Sunday morning the Lincolns went to church. All except Sarah. She hada headache. 

"I'll go, Ma, " said Abe. "When I come back, I'll tell you what thepreacher said. "

Sarah smiled at him fondly. Abe could listen to a sermon, then come homeand repeat it almost word for word. "I'd rather hear you preachify, " shesaid, "than the preacher himself. "

Tom and his family walked single file into the log meeting house andtook their places on one of the long wooden benches. John Carter, sitting on the bench in front of them, turned and nodded. Carter hadpromised to buy the Lincolns' south field. He would have the papersready for Tom to sign on Monday. Tom needed the money, but the verythought of selling any of his land made him grumpy. He twisted andturned on the hard wooden bench during the long sermon. He hardly hearda word that the preacher was saying. 

Abe leaned forward and listened eagerly. The preacher was a tall, thinman. He flung his arms about. His voice grew louder and hoarser as themorning passed. He paused only to catch his breath or when the membersof the congregation shouted, "Amen. " After the final hymn, he stood atthe door shaking hands. 

"Brother Lincoln, " he said, "I want you to meet up with a new neighbor. This here is Mr. Swaney. "

Tom shook hands. Then the preacher introduced Abe. 

"Are you the new schoolmaster?" Abe asked. 

"I don't figure on starting school till after harvest, " Mr. Swaneyreplied. "Will you be one of my scholars?"

"I'd sure like to come. " Abe glanced at his father. 

"I reckon not, " said Tom stiffly. "Abe has had as much schooling as heneeds. "

Back at the cabin, Sarah had dinner on the table. Tom cheered up as heand Dennis started "swapping yarns. " Both were good storytellers andeach tried to tell a better story than the other. 

Abe did not like being left out of the conversation. "Pa, " he asked, "can you answer me a question about something in the Bible?"

"I figure I can answer any question you got sense enough to ask. "

Johnny and Mathilda nudged each other. They knew what was coming. Oneday when the preacher stopped by, Abe had asked him the same question. The preacher had been downright flustered when he couldn't answer. 

"It's just this, Pa, " Abe went on. "Who was the father of Zebedee'schildren?"

Tom flushed. "Any uppity young one can ask a question. But can he answerit? Suppose _you_ tell _me_ who was the father of Zebedee's children?"

"I sort of figured, " said Abe, "that Zebedee was. "

Everyone was laughing except Tom. Then he laughed, too. Sarah was glad. Abe had told her that Mr. Swaney was at church. She was going to talk toher husband that very afternoon about sending the children to school, and she wanted him to be in a good humor. 

"What did the preacher have to say?" she asked. 

"Well--" Tom was trying to remember. "What he said sort of got lost inthe way he was saying it. How some of those preachers do hop and skipabout!"

"I like to hear a preacher who acts like he's fighting bees, " said Abe. 

Sarah nodded. The description fitted the preacher "like his ownmoccasin, " she said. 

"You menfolks wait outside, " she added. "Soon as the gals and I get thedishes done, we'll be out to hear Abe preachify. "

[Illustration]

The afternoon was warm. Sarah fanned herself with her apron as she satdown at one end of a fallen log near the door. The rest of the familylined up beside her. Abe stood before them, his arms folded, as herepeated the sermon he had heard that morning. Now and then he pausedand shook his finger in the faces of his congregation. He pounded withone fist on the palm of his other hand. 

"Brethern and sisters, " said Abe, "there ain't no chore too big for theLord, no chore too small. The Good Book says He knows when a sparrowfalls. Yet He had time to turn this great big wilderness into this hereland where we have our homes. Just think, folks, this Pigeon Creek hadno one but Indians living here a few years back. And today we got cabinswith smoke coming out of the chimneys. We got crops agrowing. We got ameeting house where we can come together and praise the Lord--"

Abe paused. 

"Amen!" said Tom. 

"Amen!" said the others. 

"Don't forget, " Abe went on, "all of this was the Lord's doing. Let uspraise Him for His goodness. "

He reached down, plucked a fistful of grass, and mopped his forehead. Inmuch the same way had the preacher used his bandanna handkerchief. TheLincoln family rose, sang "Praise God from Whom All Blessings Flow, " andchurch was over. 

The young folks drifted away. Tom stretched out on the grass for hisSunday afternoon nap. 

"Abe tells me that new Mr. Swaney was at church, " Sarah said. 

Tom opened his eyes. Before he had a chance to go back to sleep, shespoke again. 

"He's fixing to keep a school next winter. "

"So I hear, " said Tom cautiously. 

"He charges seventy-five cents for each scholar. Some schoolmasterscharge a dollar. "

"Sounds like a lot of money. "

"Several of the neighbors are fixing to send their young ones, " Sarahwent on. "Mr. Swaney doesn't ask for cash money. He'll take skins orfarm truck. We can manage that, I reckon. "

Tom yawned. "Plumb foolishness, if you ask me. But Johnny and Mathildaare your young ones. If you want to send them--"

"I want Sally and Abe to go, too, " Sarah interrupted. "Abe most of all. He is the one school will do the most good. He's the one who wants itmost. "

Tom sat up. "I can spare the younger ones, but I need Abe. With uspoorer than Job's turkey, you ought to know that. "

Sarah listened patiently. "I ain't talking about right now. Mr. Swaneywon't start his school till winter. Farm work will be slack then. "

"I can hire Abe out to split rails, even in cold weather, " Tom remindedher. "Maybe I can get some odd jobs as a carpenter, and Abe can helpme. "

"Abe ain't no great hand at carpentry. "

"He can learn. Why, he's fourteen, Sairy. The idea, a big, strapping boylike that going to school. I tell you, I won't have it. "

"But I promised him. "

It was the first time that Tom had ever heard a quaver in his wife'svoice. He looked away uneasily. "If you made a promise you can't keep, that's your lookout. You might as well stop nagging me, Sairy. My mindis made up. "

To make sure that there would be no more conversation on the subject, hegot up and stalked across the grass. He lay down under another tree, outof hearing distance. Sarah sat on the log for a long time. Abe came backand sat down beside her. He could tell, by looking at her, that she hadbeen talking to his father about letting him go to school. He knew, without asking any questions, that his father had said no. 

Sarah laid her hand on his knee. "Your pa is a good man, " she saidloyally. "Maybe he will change his mind. "

10

[Illustration]

"Hurry up and eat your breakfast, Abe, " said Tom the next morning. "We'regoing to cut corn for that skinflint, John Carter. "

Sarah passed her husband a plate of hot cornbread. "Why, Tom, it ain'tfitting to talk that way about a neighbor. Before the children, too. "

Tom poured a generous helping of sorghum molasses over his bread. "I'man honest man. It's fitting that I call Carter what he is, and he's askinflint. He is only paying Abe and me ten cents a day. "

"Other folks pay you two-bits. "

"I ain't got any other work right now. Carter knows I need all the moneyI can lay my hands on. The way he beat me down on the price for my southfield. "

"I wish you didn't have to sell. "

"Wishing won't do any good. I need cash money mighty bad. Remember, thisfarm ain't paid for yet. "

He got up and walked over to the chest. He picked up the sharp knife heused for cutting corn. "Get your knife, Abe, and come along. "

Abe walked behind his father along the path through the woods. "That Mr. Swaney was right nice, " he said. 

Tom grunted. 

"He is waiting to start his school until after harvest, " Abe went on. "Nat Grigsby is going. Allen Gentry is going, and he is two years olderthan me. "

"Allen's pa is a rich man, " said Tom gruffly. "Maybe he's got money toburn, but poor folks like us have to earn our keep. "

"But, Pa--"

"I declare, your tongue is loose at both ends today. Can't you stopplaguing me? First your ma, then you. You ought to see I'm worried. "

Abe said nothing more. He pulled a book out of the front of his shirtand began to read as he strode along the path. Tom looked back over hisshoulder. 

"Don't let John Carter catch you with that book. "

"I brought it along so I can read while I eat my dinner. I'll put itaway before we get to the Carter place. "

"Eddication!" said Tom in disgust "I never had any, and I get alongbetter'n if I had. Take figuring. If a fellow owes me money, I take aburnt stick and make a mark on the wall. When he pays me, I take adishrag and wipe the mark off. That's better than getting all hot andbothered trying to figure. 

"And writing? I can write my name and that's all the writing I need. Butthe most tomfoolery of all is reading. You don't see _me_ waste _my_time reading any books. "

[Illustration]

The path ended at the edge of the woods, and Tom opened the gate intothe Carter cornfield. Row after row of tall corn stretched away in even, straight lines. Mr. Carter was waiting. 

"Ready to sign over that south field, Tom?" he asked. "A lawyer fromRockport is drawing up the papers. He is riding up with them thismorning. I'll see you at dinner time. "

After John Carter had gone back to his cabin, Tom and Abe set to work. Using their sharp knives, they began cutting the corn close to theground. They stood the tall golden stalks on end, tying them together inneat shocks or bundles. By the time the sun stood directly overhead, several long rows had been cut and stacked, and John Carter was comingtoward them across the field. It was noon. 

Abe laid aside his knife, sat down on the rail fence, and pulled out hisbook. He took a piece of cornbread wrapped in a corn husk from hispocket. As he ate, he read, paying no attention to the conversationtaking place a few feet away. 

"Come and sit down, Tom, " said Carter. 

Tom sat on a tree stump. Carter was being more friendly than usual. Hewas carrying a gourd full of ink, which he placed on another stump. Heset down a deerskin bag, which jingled pleasantly with coins. In onepocket he found a turkey-buzzard pen. From another he brought out anofficial-looking paper. 

"Here is the deed for the south field, " he explained. "Here's a pen. I'll hold the ink for you. You make your mark right here. "

"I don't need to make my mark, " said Tom proudly. "I know how to sign myname. "

"Then hurry up and do it. Mrs. Carter has dinner ready, and I got to getback to the house. "

Tom took the paper and looked at it uncertainly. "I don't sign any papertill I know what I'm signing. I want time to--to go over this carefullike. "

He could make out a few of the words, and that was all. But not foranything would he admit that he could not read it. 

"You told me you wanted to sell, " said Carter. "I said I would buy. I amkeeping my part of the bargain. I even brought the money with me. "

Tom's face grew red. He looked down at the paper in his hand. He glancedat Abe seated on the fence. A struggle was taking place between prideand common sense. Common sense won. 

"Abe, come here, " he called. 

Abe went on reading. 

Tom raised his voice. "Abe! When I tell you to come, I mean for you tocome. "

The boy looked up from his book with a start. "Yes, Pa. Did you wantme?"

"Hustle over here and look at this paper. Carter is in a mighty bighurry for me to sign something I ain't had a chance to read. "

"You have had plenty of time to read it, " said Carter. "But if you don'twant to sell, I can call the whole deal off. "

Abe reached out a long arm and took the paper. He read it slowly. "Pa, "he asked, "don't you aim to sell Mr. Carter just the south field?"

"You know I'm selling him just the south field, " said Tom. 

"Then don't sign this. "

Carter picked up the money bag clanking with coins. He tossed it intothe air and caught it neatly. Tom looked at it. He wanted that money! Helooked at Abe. 

"Why shouldn't I sign?" he asked. 

"If you do, you'll be selling Mr. Carter most of your farm. "

John Carter was furious. "Don't try to tell me a country jake like youcan read! That paper says the south field, as plain as the nose on yourface. "

"It says that and a sight more, Mr. Carter, " Abe drawled. "It says thenorth field, too. It says the east and the west fields. There wouldn'tbe much farm left for Pa, except the part our cabin is setting on. "

A dispute between men in Pigeon Creek usually ended in a fight. TomLincoln doubled up his fists. "Put them up, Carter. "

The two men rolled over and over in a confused tangle of arms and legs. Now Tom Lincoln was on top. Now it was John Carter. "Go it, Pa, " Abeshouted from the fence. "Don't let that old skinflint get you down. "After a few minutes. Carter lay on his back gasping for breath. 

"Nuf!" he cried, and Tom let him scramble to his feet. 

Carter began brushing himself off. "It ain't fitting to fight aneighbor, " he whined, "just because of a mistake. "

"Mistake nothing!" Tom snorted. "Somebody lied, and it wasn't Abe. "

"I'll have a new paper made out, if you like, " said Carter. 

Tom looked at him with scorn. "You ain't got enough money to buy mysouth field. But I'll thank you for the ten cents you owe us. Abe and Ieach did a half day's work. "

[Illustration]

Tom's right eye was swelling, and by the time he reached home it wasclosed. The bump on the side of his head was the size of a hen's egg. There was a long scratch down his cheek. 

Sarah was kneeling before the fireplace, raking ashes over the potatoesthat she had put in to bake. She jumped up in alarm. 

"What's the matter? What happened?" she asked. 

"It was like Pa said, " Abe told her. "Mr. Carter is a skinflint. "

Sarah took Tom by the arm and made him sit down on a stool. She touchedthe swollen eye with gentle fingers. 

"It don't hurt much, " he said. 

"I reckon Mr. Carter hurts more, " Abe spoke up again. "He has two blackeyes. "

Tom slapped his thigh and roared with laughter. "He sure does. But if ithadn't been for Abe--"

He stopped, embarrassed. Sarah was soaking a cloth in a basin of coldwater. She laid it on his eye. 

"What started it all?"

"You tell them, Abe, " said Tom. 

"That Mr. Carter ain't as smart as he thinks he is, " Abe explained. "Hehad a paper for Pa to sign and tried to make out it was for just thesouth field. And do you know what, Mamma? When Pa asked me to read it, why, it was for almost our whole farm. "

"You don't mean to tell me!" said Sarah. 

"Carter said he'd have a new paper made out. But I told him, " Tom addedwith a touch of pride, "I could do without his money. "

"Good for you!" Sarah said, beaming. "Don't you fret. We'll squeakthrough somehow. But what if you had signed that paper? The farm wouldhave been sold right out from under us. I reckon we can feel mightyproud of Abe. "

"Well, " Tom admitted, "it didn't hurt that he knew how to read. When didyou say Mr. Swaney aims to start his school?"

"Right after harvest, " said Abe before his stepmother had a chance toanswer. 

Tom ignored him and went on talking to his wife. "Now, mind you, Sairy, I ain't saying Abe needs any more eddication. I ain't saying it isfitting a son should know more'n his pa. But if you think the young onesshould go to this new school for a spell, I won't say no. "

He rose and stalked out of the cabin. Then he came back and stuck hishead in at the door. 

"Mind you, Abe, you forget to do your chores just one time, and thatschoolmaster won't be seeing you again. "

"Come back in and sit down, Tom, " said Sarah. "Supper is nearly ready. Besides, Abe has something that needs saying. "

Abe looked at his stepmother in surprise. Then he looked at his father. "I'm much obliged, Pa, " he said. 

11

[Illustration]

After a few weeks at Master Swaney's school, Abe had to stop and go towork again. When he was seventeen, he had a chance to attend anotherschool kept by Azel Dorsey. Nearly every Friday afternoon there werespecial exercises and the scholars spoke pieces. For the final programon the last day of school, the boys had built a platform outside the logschoolhouse. Parents, brothers and sisters, and friends found seats onfallen logs and on the grass. They listened proudly as, one by one, thechildren came forward and each recited a poem or a speech. 

Master Dorsey walked to the front of the platform. He held up his handfor silence. "Ladies and gentlemen, " he said, "we come to the lastnumber on our program. Twenty-five years ago Thomas Jefferson becamePresident of these United States. We shall now hear the speech he madethat day. Abraham Lincoln will recite it for us. "

Sarah Lincoln, from under her pink sunbonnet, stole a glance at Tom. "Ihope that Abe does well, " she whispered. 

Abe did do well. He forgot that he was growing too fast, that his handswere too big, and that his trousers were too short. For a few minutes hemade his audience forget it. Master Dorsey seemed to swell with pride. If that boy lives, he thought, he is going to be a noted man some day. Elizabeth Crawford, sitting in the front row, remembered what he hadsaid about being President. If she closed her eyes, she could almostimagine that Thomas Jefferson was speaking. When Abe finished and madean awkward bow, she joined in the hearty burst of applause. 

"Do you know where he got that piece?" she asked her husband in a lowvoice. "From _The Kentucky Preceptor_, one of the books you loaned him. It makes a body feel good to think we helped him. Look at Mrs. Lincoln!She couldn't be more pleased if Abe was her own son. "

Sarah waited to walk home with him. "I was mighty proud of you today, "she said. "Why, what's the matter? You look mighty down-in-the-mouth fora boy who spoke his piece so well on the last day. "

"I was thinking that this is the last day, " he answered. "The last dayI'll ever go to school, most likely. "

"Well, you're seventeen now. "

"Yes, I'm seventeen, and I ain't had a year's schooling all told. Ican't even talk proper. I forget and say 'ain't' though I know itain't--I mean isn't right. "

"It seems to me you're educating yourself with all those books youread, " said Sarah cheerfully. 

"I've already read all the books for miles around. Besides, I want tosee places. I can't help it, Ma, I want to get away. "

Sarah looked at him fondly. She wished that she could find some way tohelp him. 

Abe found ways to help himself. He was never to go to school again, buthe could walk to Rockport to attend trials in the log courthouse. Heliked to listen to the lawyers argue their cases. Sometimes he wouldwrite down what they said on a piece of paper. Now and then he had achance to borrow a book that he had not read before from some newsettler. He read the old books over and over again. He liked to read thenewspapers to which Mr. Gentry, Allen's father, subscribed. The paperstold what was going on in the big world outside of Pigeon Creek. 

James Gentry owned the log store at the crossroads, where the littletown, Gentryville, had grown up. His partner, William Jones, was one ofAbe's best friends, and Abe spent nearly every evening at the store. Itbecame the favorite meeting place for the men and boys who lived closeby. 

"Howdy, Abe!" Everyone seemed to be saying it at once when he came in. 

"The Louisville paper came today, " William Jones might add. "Here youare! The fellows have been waiting for you to holler out the news. "

[Illustration]

Abe sat on the counter, swinging his long legs, as he read the newspaperout loud. The men sat quietly, except when William got up to throwanother log on the fire or to light another candle. Abe read on and on. After he finished the paper, they talked about what he had read. Theyargued about many things from politics to religion. They always wantedto know what Abe thought. Many times they stayed until nearly midnightlistening to him. 

 * * * * *

One evening, not long after Abe's nineteenth birthday, he walked homefrom the store in great excitement. He had been very sad since hissister Sally had died in January, but tonight he seemed more cheerful. Sarah looked up to find him standing in the doorway. 

"What do you think has happened, Ma?" he asked. "I am going to NewOrleans. "

"How come, Abe?"

Sarah knew that prosperous farmers sometimes loaded their corn and otherfarm products on big flatboats. These flatboats were floated down theOhio and Mississippi rivers to New Orleans, where the cargoes were sold. But the Lincolns raised only enough for their own use. They never hadanything left over to sell. Nor could they afford to build a flatboatfor the long trip down the rivers. 

"How come?" Sarah asked again. 

Abe seized her around the waist and danced her across the floor. She wasout of breath but laughing when he let her go. 

"Allen Gentry is taking a cargo of farm truck down to New Orleans tosell, " he explained. "His pa has hired me to help on the flatboat. Mr. Gentry will pay me eight dollars a month. I reckon Pa will be pleasedabout that. "

Abe himself was pleased because he was going to see something of theworld. New Orleans was seven hundred miles away. It was a big andimportant city. Sarah was pleased because this was the chance that Abehad been wanting. 

He had grown so tall that she had to throw back her head to look up athim. "I'm right glad for you, " she said. 

12

[Illustration]

To a boy brought up in the backwoods, the trip down the rivers was onelong adventure. Abe sat at the forward oar, guiding the big flatboatthrough the calm, blue waters of the Ohio, while Allen cooked supper ondeck. Afterwards Abe told stories. 

After they had reached the southern tip of Illinois, where the Ohioemptied into the yellow waters of the Mississippi, there was little timefor stories. The boys never knew what to expect next. One minute theriver would be quiet and calm. The next it would rise in the fury of asudden storm. The waves rose in a yellow flood that poured over thedeck. Allen at the back oar, Abe at the front oar, had a hard timekeeping the big flatboat from turning over. 

At the end of each day, the boys tied up the boat at some place alongthe shore. One night after they had gone to sleep, several robbers crepton board. Abe and Allen awoke just in time. After a long, hard fight, the robbers turned and fled. 

[Illustration]

These dangers only made their adventures seem more exciting. It wasexciting, too, to be a part of the traffic of the river. They saw manyother flatboats like their own. The biggest thrill was in watching thesteamboats, with giant paddle wheels that turned the water into foam. Their decks were painted a gleaming white, and their brass rails shonein the sun. No wonder they were called "floating palaces, " thought Abe. Sometimes passengers standing by the rail waved to the boys. 

Each day of their journey brought gentler breezes, warmer weather. Cottonwood and magnolia trees grew on the low swampy banks of bothshores. The boys passed cotton fields, where gangs of Negro slaves wereat work. Some of them were singing as they bent to pick the snowy whiteballs of cotton. A snatch of song came floating over the water:

 "Oh, brother, don't get weary, Oh, brother, don't get weary, Oh, brother, don't get weary, We're waiting for the Lord. "

[Illustration]

Abe leaned on his oar to listen. A few minutes later he pointed to a bighouse with tall white pillars in the middle of a beautiful garden. 

"Nice little cabin those folks have, " he said drily. "Don't recollectseeing anything like that up in Pigeon Creek. "

"Why, Abe, you haven't seen anything yet. Just wait till you get to NewOrleans. "

This was Allen's second trip, and he was eager to show Abe the sights. Afew days later they were walking along the New Orleans waterfront. Shipsfrom many different countries were tied up at the wharves. Negro slaveswere rolling bales of cotton onto a steamboat. Other Negroes, totinghuge baskets on their heads, passed by. Sailors from many lands, speaking strange tongues, rubbed elbows with fur trappers dressed inbuckskins from the far Northwest. A cotton planter in a white suitglanced at the two youths from Pigeon Creek. He seemed amused. Abelooked down at his homespun blue jeans. He had not realized that allyoung men did not wear them. 

"Reckon we do look different from some of the folks down here, " he said, as he and Allen turned into a narrow street. 

Here there were more people--always more people. The public square wascrowded. Abe gazed in awe at the Cathedral. This tall Spanish church, with its two graceful towers, was so different from the log meetinghouse that the Lincolns attended. 

Nor was there anything back in Pigeon Creek like the tall plaster housesfaded by time and weather into warm tones of pink and lavender andyellow. The balconies, or porches, on the upper floors had wrought ironrailings, of such delicate design that they looked like iron lace. 

Once the boys paused before a wrought iron gate. At the end of a longpassageway they could see a courtyard where flowers bloomed and afountain splashed in the sunshine. Abe turned to watch a handsomecarriage roll by over the cobblestones. He looked down the street towardthe river, which sheltered ships from all over the world. 

"All this makes me feel a little like Sinbad, " he said, "but I reckoneven Sinbad never visited New Orleans. I sure do like it here. "

But soon Abe began to see other sights that made him sick at heart. Heand Allen passed a warehouse where slaves were being sold at auction. Acrowd had gathered inside. Several Negroes were standing on a platformcalled an auction block. One by one they stepped forward. A man calledan auctioneer asked in a loud voice, "What am I offered? Who will makethe first bid?"

"Five hundred, " called one man. 

"Six hundred, " called another. 

The bids mounted higher. Each slave was sold to the man who bid, oroffered to pay, the most money. One field hand and his wife were sold todifferent bidders. There were tears in the woman's dark eyes as he wasled away. She knew that she would never see her husband again. 

"Let's get out of here, " said Abe. "I can't stand any more. "

They walked back to their own flatboat tied up at one of the wharves. Allen got supper, but Abe could not eat. 

"Don't look like that, " said Allen. "Many of the folks down hereinherited their slaves, same as their land. Slavery ain't their fault. "

"I never said it was anybody's fault--at least not anybody who's livingnow. But it just ain't right for one man to own another. "

"Well, stop worrying. There's nothing you can do about it. "

"Maybe not, " said Abe gloomily, "but I'm mighty glad there aren't anyslaves in Indiana. "

Allen stayed on in New Orleans for several days to sell his cargo. Itbrought a good price. He then sold his flatboat, which would be brokenup and used for lumber. Flatboats could not travel upstream. He and Abewould either have to walk back to Indiana, or they could take asteamboat. 

"We'd better not walk, carrying all this money, " said Allen. "Prettylonely country going home. We might get robbed. "

The steamboat trip was a piece of good fortune that Abe had notexpected. He enjoyed talking with the other passengers. The speed atwhich they traveled seemed a miracle. It had taken the boys a month tomake the trip downstream by flatboat. They were returning upstream inlittle more than a week. They were standing together by the rail whenthe cabins of Rockport, perched on a high wooded bluff, came into view. 

"It sure was good of your pa to give me this chance, " said Abe. "I'veseen some sights I wish I hadn't, but the trip has done me good. Sort ofstretched my eyes and ears! Stretched me all over--inside, I mean. " Helaughed. "I don't need any stretching on the outside. "

Allen looked at his tall friend. They had been together most of thetime. They had talked with the same people, visited the same places, seen the same sights. Already Allen was beginning to forget them. Nowthat he was almost home, it was as if he had never been away. But Abeseemed different. Somehow he had changed. 

"I can't figure it out, " Allen told him. "You don't seem the same. "

"Maybe I'm not, " said Abe. "I keep thinking about some of the things Isaw. "

13

[Illustration]

The Lincolns were leaving Pigeon Creek. One day a letter had arrivedfrom John Hanks, a cousin, who had gone to Illinois to live. The soilwas richer there, the letter said. Why didn't Tom come, too, and bringhis family? He would find it easier to make a living. Even the name ofthe river near John's home had a pleasant sound. It was called theSangamon--an Indian word meaning "plenty to eat. "

"We're going, " Tom decided. "I'm going to sell this farm and buyanother. Do you want to come with us, Abe?"

Two years had passed since Abe's return from New Orleans. Two years ofhard work. Two years of looking forward to his next birthday. He wasnearly twenty-one and could leave home if he wanted to. 

"Well, Pa--" he hesitated. 

Sarah was watching him, waiting for his answer. 

"I'll come with you, " said Abe. "I'll stay long enough to help you getthe new farm started. "

There were thirteen people in the Lincoln party: Tom and Sarah, Abe andJohnny, Betsy and Dennis Hanks who had been married for several years, Mathilda and her husband, and two sets of children. They made thejourney in three big wagons, traveling over frozen roads and crossingicy streams. After two weeks they came to John Hanks' home on theprairies of Illinois. He made them welcome, then took them to see theplace that he had selected for their farm. In the cold winter light itlooked almost as desolate as Pigeon Creek had looked fourteen yearsbefore. Tom Lincoln was beginning all over again. 

This time he had more help. John Hanks had a great pile of logs splitand ready to be used for their new cabin. Abe was now able to do a man'swork. After the cabin was finished, he split enough rails to build afence around the farm. Some of the new neighbors hired him to split logsfor them. 

The following spring, he was offered other work that he liked muchbetter. A man named Denton Offut was building a flatboat, which heplanned to float down the Illinois River to the Mississippi and on toNew Orleans. He hired Abe to help with the cargo. The two young menbecame friends. When Abe returned home after the long voyage, he hadnews for Sarah. 

"Ma, " he said, "Denton is fixing to start a store up in New Salem. That's a village on the Sangamon River. He wants me to be his clerk. "

Sarah said nothing for a moment. If Abe went away to stay, the cabinwould seem mighty lonesome. She would miss him terribly. But she wantedhim to do whatever was best for him. 

"Mr. Offut said he'd pay me fifteen dollars a month, " Abe added. 

That was more money than he had ever earned, thought Sarah. And now thathe was over twenty-one, he could keep his wages for himself. "I reckonyou'll be leaving soon, " she said aloud. 

"Yes, Ma, I will. " Telling her was harder than Abe had expected. "It ishigh time that I start out on my own. "

Sarah set to work to get his clothes ready. He was wearing his only pairof jeans, and there wasn't much else for him to take. She washed hisshirts and the extra pair of socks that she had knit for him. He wrappedthese up in a big cloth and tied the bundle to the end of a long stick. The next morning he was up early. After he told the rest of the familygood-by, Sarah walked with him to the gate. 

Abe thrust the stick with his bundle over his shoulder. He had lookedforward to starting out on his own--and now he was scared. Almost asscared as he had felt on that cold winter afternoon when his new motherhad first arrived in Pigeon Creek. Because she had believed in him, hehad started believing in himself. Her faith in him was still shining inher eyes as she looked up at him and tried to smile. 

He gave her a quick hug and hurried down the path. 

It was a long, long walk to New Salem, where Abe arrived on a hot summerday in 1831. This village, on a high bluff overlooking the SangamonRiver, was bigger than Gentryville, bigger even than Rockport. As hewandered up and down the one street, bordered on both sides by a row ofneat log houses, he counted more than twenty-five buildings. There wereseveral stores, and he could see the mill down by the river. 

[Illustration]

He pushed his way through a crowd that had gathered before one of thehouses. A worried-looking man, about ten years older than Abe, satbehind a table on the little porch. He was writing in a big book. 

"Howdy, Mister, " said Abe. "What is all the excitement about?"

"This is election day, " the man replied, "and I am the clerk in charge. That is, I'm one of the clerks. "

He stopped to write down the name of one of the men who stood in line. He wrote the names of several other voters in his big book before he hada chance to talk to Abe again. Then he explained that the other clerkwho was supposed to help him was sick. 

"I'm mighty busy, " he went on. "Say listen, stranger, do you know how towrite?"

"I can make a few rabbit tracks, " Abe said, grinning. 

"Maybe I can hire you to help me keep a record of the votes. " The manrose and shook hands. "My name is Mentor Graham. "

By evening the younger man and the older one had become good friends. Mr. Graham was a schoolmaster, and he promised to help Abe with hisstudies. Soon Abe began to make other friends. Jack Kelso took himfishing. Abe did not care much about fishing, but he liked to hear Jackrecite poetry by Robert Burns and William Shakespeare. They were Jack'sfavorite poets, and they became Abe's favorites, too. 

At the Rutledge Tavern, where Abe lived for a while, he met the owner'sdaughter, Ann Rutledge. Ann was sweet and pretty, with a glint ofsunshine in her hair. They took long walks beside the river. It was easyto talk to Ann, and Abe told her some of his secret hopes. She thoughtthat he was going to be a great man some day. 

Her father, James Rutledge, also took an interest in him. Abe wasinvited to join the New Salem Debating Society. The first time that hegot up to talk, the other members expected him to spend the time tellingfunny stories. Instead he made a serious speech--and a very good one. 

"That young man has more than wit and fun in his head, " Mr. Rutledgetold his wife that night. 

Abe liked to make speeches, but he knew that he did not always speakcorrectly. One morning he was having breakfast at Mentor Graham's house. "I have a notion to study English grammar, " he said. 

"If you expect to go before the public, " Mentor answered, "I think itthe best thing you can do. "

"If I had a grammar, I would commence now. "

Mentor thought for a moment. "There is no one in town who owns agrammar, " he said finally. "But Mr. Vaner out in the country has one. Hemight lend you his copy. "

Abe got up from the table and walked six miles to the Vaner farm. Whenhe returned, he carried an open book in his hands. He was studyinggrammar as he walked. 

Meanwhile he worked as a clerk in Denton Offut's store. Customers couldbuy all sorts of things there--tools and nails, needles and thread, mittens and calico, and tallow for making candles. One day a womanbought several yards of calico. After she left, Abe discovered that hehad charged her six cents too much. That evening he walked six miles togive her the money. He was always doing things like that, and peoplebegan to call him "Honest Abe. "

Denton was so proud of his clerk that he could not help boasting. "Abeis the smartest man in the United States, " he said. "Yes, and he canbeat any man in the country running, jumping, or wrastling. "

A bunch of young roughnecks lived a few miles away in another settlementcalled Clary Grove. "That Denton Offut talks too much with his mouth, "they said angrily. They did not mind Abe being called smart. But theydeclared that no one could "out-wrastle" their leader, Jack Armstrong. One day they rushed into the store and dared Abe to fight with Jack. 

Abe laid down the book that he had been reading. "I don't hold withwooling and pulling, " he said. "But if you want to fight, come onoutside. "

The Clary Grove boys soon realized that Denton's clerk was a goodwrestler. Jack, afraid that he was going to lose the fight, stepped onAbe's foot with the sharp heel of his boot. The sudden pain made Abeangry. The next thing that Jack knew he was being shaken back and forthuntil his teeth rattled. Then he was lying flat on his back in the dust. 

Jack's friends let out a howl of rage. Several of them rushed at Abe, all trying to fight him at the same time. He stood with his back againstthe store, his fists doubled up. He dared them to come closer. Jackpicked himself up. 

"Stop it, fellows, " he said. "I was beaten in a fair fight. If you askme, this Abe Lincoln is the cleverest fellow that ever broke into thesettlement. "

From then on Jack was one of Abe's best friends. 

A short time later Abe enlisted as a soldier in the Black Hawk War tohelp drive the Indians out of Illinois. The Clary Grove boys were in hiscompany, and Abe was elected captain. Before his company had a chance todo any fighting, Blackhawk was captured in another part of Illinois andthe war was over. 

When Abe came back to New Salem, he found himself out of a job. DentonOffut had left. The store had "winked out. " Later, Abe and another youngman, William Berry, decided to become partners. They borrowed money andstarted a store of their own. 

One day a wagon piled high with furniture stopped out in front. A manjumped down and explained that he and his family were moving West. Thewagon was too crowded, and he had a barrel of odds and ends that hewanted to sell. Abe, always glad to oblige, agreed to pay fifty centsfor it. Later, when he opened it, he had a wonderful surprise. 

The barrel contained a set of famous law books. He had seen those samebooks in Mr. Pitcher's law office in Rockport. Now that he owned a setof his own, he could read it any time he wished. Customers coming intothe store usually found Abe lying on the counter, his nose buried in oneof the new books. The more he read, the more interested he became. 

Perhaps he spent too much time reading, instead of attending tobusiness. William Berry was lazy, and not a very satisfactory partner. The store of Lincoln and Berry did so little business that it had toclose. The partners were left with many debts to pay. Then Berry died, and "Honest Abe" announced that he would pay all of the debts himself, no matter how long it took. 

For a while he was postmaster. A man on horseback brought the mail twicea week, and there were so few letters that Abe often carried them aroundin his hat until he could deliver them. He liked the job because it gavehim a chance to read the newspapers to which the people in New Salemsubscribed. But the pay was small, and he had to do all sorts of oddJobs to earn enough to eat. On many days he would have gone hungry ifJack Armstrong and his wife, Hannah, had not invited him to dinner. Whenwork was scarce he stayed with them two or three weeks at a time. 

He knew that he had to find a way to earn more money, and he decided tostudy surveying. It was a hard subject, but he borrowed some books andread them carefully. He studied so hard that in six weeks' time he tookhis first job as a surveyor. 

Sometimes when he was measuring a farm or laying out a new road, hewould be gone for several weeks. People miles from New Salem knew whoAbe Lincoln was. They laughed at him because he was so tall and awkward. They thought it funny that his trousers were always too short. But theyalso laughed at his jokes, and they liked him. He made so many newfriends that he decided to be a candidate for the Illinois legislature. 

One day during the campaign he had a long talk with Major John T. Stuart. Major Stuart had been Abe's commander in the Black Hawk War. Hewas now a lawyer in Springfield, a larger town twenty miles away. 

"Why don't you study law?" he asked. 

Abe pursed his lips. "I'd sure like to, " he drawled; then added with agrin: "But I don't know if I have enough sense. "

Major Stuart paid no attention to this last remark. "You have beenreading law for pleasure, " he went on. "Now go at it in earnest. I'lllend you the books you need. "

This was a chance that Abe could not afford to miss. Every few days hewalked or rode on horseback to Springfield to borrow another volume. Sometimes he read forty pages on the way home. He was twenty-five yearsold, and there was no time to waste. 

Meanwhile he was making many speeches. He asked the voters in his partof Illinois to elect him to the legislature which made the laws for thestate. They felt that "Honest Abe" was a man to be trusted and he waselected. 

Late in November Abe boarded the stagecoach for the ride to Vandalia, then the capital of the state. He looked very dignified in a new suitand high plug hat. In the crowd that gathered to tell him good-by, hecould see many of his friends. There stood Coleman Smoot who had lenthim money to buy his new clothes. Farther back he could see Mr. Rutledgeand Ann, Hannah and Jack Armstrong, Mentor Graham, and others who hadencouraged and helped him. And now he was on his way to represent themin the legislature. There was a chorus of "Good-by, Abe. "

Then, like an echo, the words came again in Ann's high, sweet voice:"Good-by, Abe!" He leaned far out the window and waved. 

He was thinking of Ann as the coach rolled over the rough road. He wasthinking also of Sarah. If only she could see him now, he thought, as heglanced at the new hat resting on his knee. 

[Illustration]

14

[Illustration]

The Legislature met for several weeks at a time. Between sessions, Abeworked at various jobs in New Salem and read his law books. Most of hisstudying was done early in the morning and late at night. He still foundtime to see a great deal of Ann Rutledge, and something of her gentlesweetness was to live on forever in his heart. After Ann died, he triedto forget his grief by studying harder than ever. 

The year that he was twenty-eight he took his examination, and wasgranted a lawyer's license. He decided to move to Springfield, which hadrecently been made the capital of the state. 

It was a cold March day when he rode into this thriving little town. Hehitched his horse to the hitching rack in the public square and enteredone of the stores. Joshua Speed, the owner, a young man about Abe's age, looked up with a friendly smile. 

"Howdy, Abe, " he said. "So you are going to be one of us?"

"I reckon so, " Abe answered. "Say, Speed, I just bought myself abedstead. How much would it cost me for a mattress and some pillows andblankets?"

Joshua took a pencil from behind his ear. He did some figuring on apiece of paper. "I can fix you up for about seventeen dollars. "

Abe felt the money in his pocket. He had only seven dollars. His horsewas borrowed, and he was still a thousand dollars in debt. Joshua sawthat he was disappointed. He had heard Abe make speeches, and Abe wascalled one of the most promising young men in the legislature. Joshualiked him and wanted to know him better. 

"Why don't you stay with me, until you can do better?" he suggested. "Ihave a room over the store and a bed big enough for two. "

A grin broke over Abe's homely features. "Good!" he said. "Where is it?"

"You'll find some stairs over there behind that pile of barrels. Go onup and make yourself at home. "

Abe enjoyed living with Joshua Speed, and he enjoyed living inSpringfield. He soon became as popular as he had once been in PigeonCreek and in New Salem. As the months and years went by, more and morepeople came to him whenever they needed a lawyer to advise them. For along time he was poor, but little by little he paid off his debts. Withhis first big fee he bought a quarter section of land for his stepmotherwho had been so good to him. 

The part of his work that Abe liked best was "riding the circuit. " Inthe spring and again in the fall, he saddled Old Buck, his horse, andset out with a judge and several other lawyers to visit some of thetowns close by. These towns "on the circuit" were too small to have lawcourts of their own. In each town the lawyers argued the cases and thejudge settled the disputes that had come up during the past six months. 

After supper they liked to gather at the inn to listen to Abe tell funnystories. "I laughed until I shook my ribs loose, " said one dignifiedjudge. 

The other lawyers often teased Abe. "You ought to charge your clientsmore money, " they said, "or you will always be as poor as Job's turkey. "

One evening they held a mock trial. Abe was accused of charging suchsmall fees that the other lawyers could not charge as much as theyshould. The judge looked as solemn as he did at a real trial. 

"You are guilty of an awful crime against the pockets of your brotherlawyers, " he said severely. "I hereby sentence you to pay a fine. "

There was a shout of laughter. "I'll pay the fine, " said Abegood-naturedly. "But my own firm is never going to be known as Catchem &Cheatem. "

Meanwhile a young lady named Mary Todd had come to Springfield to live. Her father was a rich and important man in Kentucky. Mary was pretty andwell educated. Abe was a little afraid of her, but one night at a partyhe screwed up his courage to ask her for a dance. 

[Illustration]

"Miss Todd, " he said, "I would like to dance with you the worst way. "

As he swept her around the dance floor, he bumped into other couples. Hestepped on her toes. "Mr. Lincoln, " said Mary, as she limped over to achair, "you did dance with me the worst way--the very worst. "

She did not mind that he was not a good dancer. As she looked up intoAbe's homely face, she decided that he had a great future ahead of him. She remembered something she had once said as a little girl: "When Igrow up, I want to marry a man who will be President of the UnitedStates. "

Abe was not the only one who liked Mary Todd. Among the other young menwho came to see her was another lawyer, Stephen A. Douglas. He was notaller than Mary herself, but he had such a large head and shouldersthat he had been nicknamed "the Little Giant. " He was handsome, andrich, and brilliant. His friends thought that he might be President someday. 

"No, " said Mary, "Abe Lincoln has the better chance to succeed. "

Anyway, Abe was the man she loved. The next year they were married. 

"I mean to make him President of the United States, " she wrote to afriend in Kentucky. "You will see that, as I always told you, I will yetbe the President's wife. "

At first Mary thought that her dream was coming true. In 1846 Abe waselected a member of the United States Congress in Washington. He hadmade a good start as a political leader, and she was disappointed whenhe did not run for a second term. Back he came to Springfield topractice law again. By 1854 there were three lively boys romping throughthe rooms of the comfortable white house that he had bought for hisfamily. Robert was eleven, Willie was four, and Tad was still a baby. The neighbors used to smile to see Lawyer Lincoln walking down thestreet carrying Tad on his shoulders, while Willie clung to hiscoattails. The boys adored their father. 

Mary did, too, but she wished that Abe would be more dignified. He satreading in his shirt sleeves, and he got down on the floor to play withthe boys. His wife did not think that was any way for a successfullawyer to act. It also worried her that he was no longer interested inpolitics. 

And then something happened that neither Mary nor Abe had ever expected. Their old friend, Stephen A. Douglas, who was now a Senator inWashington, suggested a new law. Thousands of settlers were going Westto live, and in time they would form new states. The new law would makeit possible for the people in each new state to own slaves, if most ofthe voters wanted to. 

Abraham Lincoln was so aroused and indignant that he almost forgot hislaw practice. He traveled around Illinois making speeches. There were nolaws against having slaves in the South, but slavery must be kept out ofterritory that was still free, he said. The new states should be places"for poor people to go to better their condition. " Not only that, but itwas wrong for one man to own another. Terribly wrong. 

"If the Negro is a man, " he told one audience, "then my ancient faithteaches me that all men are created equal. "

Perhaps he was thinking of the first time he had visited a slave market. He was remembering the words in the Declaration of Independence that hadthrilled him as a boy. 

Two years later Abraham Lincoln was asked to be a candidate for theUnited States Senate. He would be running against Douglas. Abe wantedvery much to be a Senator. Even more he wanted to keep slavery out ofthe new states. Taking part in the political campaign would give him achance to say the things that he felt so deeply. 

"I am convinced I am good enough for it, " he told a friend, "but inspite of it all I am saying to myself every day, 'It is too big a thingfor you; you will never get it. ' Mary insists, however, that I am goingto be Senator and President of the United States, too. "

Perhaps it was his wife's faith in him that gave him the courage totry. Never was there a more exciting campaign. Never had the people ofIllinois been so stirred as during that hot summer of 1858. A series ofdebates was held in seven different towns. The two candidates--Douglas, "the little Giant, " and "Old Abe, the Giant Killer, " as his friendscalled him--argued about slavery. People came from miles around to hearthem. 

On the day of a debate, an open platform for the speakers was decoratedwith red-white-and-blue bunting. Flags flew from the housetops. WhenSenator Douglas arrived at the railroad station, his friends andadmirers met him with a brass band. He drove to his hotel in a finecarriage. 

Abe had admirers, too. Sometimes a long procession met him at thestation. Then Abe would be embarrassed. He did not like what he called"fizzlegigs and fireworks. " But he laughed when his friends in one towndrove him to his hotel in a hay wagon. This was their way of making funof Douglas and his fine manners. 

Senator Douglas was an eloquent orator. While he was talking, some ofAbe's friends would worry. Would Old Abe be able to answer? Would he beable to hold his own? Then Abe would unfold his long legs and stand up. "The Giant Killer" towered so high above "the Little Giant" that atitter ran through the crowd. 

When he came to the serious part of his speech, there was silence. Hisvoice reached to the farthest corners of the crowd, as he reminded themwhat slavery really meant. He summed it up in a few words: "You work andtoil and earn bread, and I'll eat it. "

Both men worked hard to be elected. And Douglas won. "I feel like theboy, " said Abe, "who stubbed his toe. It hurts too bad to laugh, and Iam too big to cry. "

All of those who loved him--Mary, his wife, in her neat white house;Sarah, his stepmother, in her little cabin, more than a hundred milesaway; and his many friends--were disappointed. But not for long. Thepart he took in the Lincoln-Douglas debates made his name knownthroughout the United States. 

Abe Lincoln's chance was coming. 

15

[Illustration]

During the next two years Abraham Lincoln was asked to make manyspeeches. "Let us have faith that right makes might, " he told oneaudience in New York, "and in that faith let us, to the end, dare to doour duty as we understand it. "

At the end of the speech, several thousand people rose to their feet, cheering and waving their handkerchiefs. His words were printed innewspapers. Throughout the Northern States, men and women began to thinkof him as the friend of freedom. 

By 1860 he was so well known that he was nominated for President of theUnited States. Stephen A. Douglas was nominated by another politicalparty. Once more the two rivals were running for the same office. 

Several thousands of Abraham Lincoln's admirers called themselves "WideAwakes. " There were Wide Awake Clubs in near every Northern town. Nightafter night they marched in parades, carrying flaming torches andcolored lanterns. And as they marched, they sang:

 "Hurrah! for our cause--of all causes the best! Hurrah! for Old Abe, Honest Abe of the West. "

No one enjoyed the campaign excitement more than did Willie and TadLincoln. They did their marching around the parlor carpet, singinganother song:

 "Old Abe Lincoln came out of the wilderness, Out of the wilderness, out of the wilderness, Old Abe Lincoln came out of the wilderness, Down in Illinois. "

People everywhere were talking about Old Abe, and he received a greatdeal of mail. Some of the letters came from Pigeon Creek. Nat Grigsby, his old schoolmate, wrote that his Indiana friends were thinking of him. Dave Turnham wrote. It was in Dave's book that Abe had first read theDeclaration of Independence. A package arrived from Josiah Crawford whohad given him his _Life of Washington_. The package contained a piece ofwhite oak wood. It was part of a rail that Abe had split when he wassixteen years old. Josiah thought that he might like to have it madeinto a cane. 

Hundreds of other letters came from people he had never seen. One fromNew York state made him smile. 

"I am a little girl only eleven years old, " the letter read, "but wantyou should be President of the United States very much so I hope youwon't think me very bold to write to such a great man as you are. . . . Ihave got four brothers and part of them will vote for you anyway and ifyou will let your whiskers grow I will try to get the rest of them tovote for you. You would look a great deal better for your face is sothin. All the ladies like whiskers and they would tease their husbandsto vote for you and then you would be President. . . . "

The letter was signed "Grace Bedell. " In less than two weeks shereceived an answer. Abraham Lincoln, who loved children, took heradvice. By election day on November 6, 1860, he had started to grow abeard. 

He spent the evening of election day in the telegraph office. Reportafter report came in from different parts of the country. He wasgaining. He was winning. After a while he knew--his friends knew--allSpringfield knew--that Abraham Lincoln was to be the next President ofthe United States. Outside in the streets the crowds were celebrating. They were singing, shouting, shooting off cannons. Abe told his friendsthat he was "well-nigh upset with joy. "

"I guess I'd better go home now, " he added. "There is a little womanthere who would like to hear the news. "

Mary was asleep when he entered their bedroom. Her husband touched heron the shoulder. "Mary, Mary, " he said with a low chuckle, "we areelected. "

By February the Lincolns were ready to move. Abe tied up the trunks andaddressed them to "A. Lincoln, The White House, Washington, D. C. " Beforehe left Illinois there was a visit he wanted to make to a log farmhousea hundred and twenty-five miles southeast of Springfield. His father hadbeen dead for ten years, but his stepmother was still living there. 

[Illustration]

Travel was slow in those days, and he had to change trains severaltimes. There was plenty of time to think. He knew that hard days layahead. There were many Southerners who said that they were afraid tolive under a President who was against slavery. Several Southern stateshad left the Union and were starting a country of their own. For theUnited States to be broken up into two different nations seemed to himthe saddest thing that could possibly happen. As President, AbrahamLincoln would have a chance--he must make the chance--to preserve theUnion. He could not know then that he would also have a chance to freethe slaves--a chance to serve his country as had no other Presidentsince George Washington. 

His thoughts went back to his boyhood. Even then he had wanted to bePresident. What had once seemed an impossible dream was coming true. Hethought of all the people who had encouraged and helped him. He thoughtof his mother who, more than any one person, had given him a chance toget ahead. 

"Mother!" Whenever Abe said the word, he was thinking of both Nancy andSarah. 

Sarah was waiting by the window. A tall man in a high silk hat camestriding up the path. 

"Abe! You've come!" She opened the door and looked up into the sad, wiseface. 

"Of course, Mother. " He gave her the kind of good bear hug he had givenher when he was a boy. "I am leaving soon for Washington. Did you thinkI could go so far away without saying good-by?"

The word spread rapidly that he was there. One after another theneighbors dropped in, until the little room was crowded. As he satbefore the fireplace, talking with all who came, Sarah seemed to see, not a man about to become President, but a forlorn-looking little boy. She had loved that little boy from the moment she first saw him. He hadalways been a good son to her--a better son than her own John. 

When the last visitor had gone, she drew her chair closer. It was goodto have a few minutes alone together. 

"Abe, " she told him, "I can say what scarcely one mother in a thousandcan say. "

He looked at her inquiringly. 

"You never gave me a cross word in your life. I reckon your mind andmine, that is--" she laughed, embarrassed, "what little mind I had, seemed to run together. "

He reached over and laid a big hand on her knee. She put her wrinkled, work-hardened hand on his. 

When the time came to say good-by, she could hardly keep the tears back. "Will I ever see you again?" she asked. "What if something should happento you, Abe? I feel it in my heart--"

"Now, now, Mother. " He held her close. "Trust in the Lord and all willbe well. "

"God bless you, Abraham. "

[Illustration]

He kissed her and was gone. "He was the best boy I ever saw, " shethought, as she watched him drive away. 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Growing up in southern Indiana, not far from where Abraham Lincoln spenthis boyhood, Frances Cavanah has always had a special interest inLincoln and the people who knew him. Furthermore, she is recognizedtoday as one of America's leading writers of historical books for boysand girls. She has written many books for young people and has also beenassociate editor of _Child Life Magazine_. One of her most interestingand beautiful books is OUR COUNTRY'S STORY, a fascinatingintroduction to American history, told in terms simple enough forchildren under nine. Miss Cavanah now lives in Washington, D. C. , anddevotes all of her time to writing. 

ABOUT THE ARTIST

Paula Hutchison was born in Helena, Montana, and attended schools in theState of Washington until she came east to attend Pratt Institute inBrooklyn, New York. After graduating, she studied for several years inParis, London, and Florence and made painting trips to Cornwall, theEnglish lake district, and Scotland. She now lives in a small town onthe New Jersey shore where she and her husband have a six-acre farm, onwhich she has her studio. Miss Hutchison has illustrated a great manybooks for children and has also illustrated a number which she haswritten herself. 

The Library of Congress catalogs this book as follows:

 Cavanah, Frances. Abe Lincoln gets his chance. Illustrated by Paula Hutchison. Chicago, Rand McNally [1959] 92 p. Illus. 24 cm. 1. Lincoln, Abraham, Pres. U. S. --Fiction. I. Title PZ7. C28Ab 813. 54 59-5789++