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The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Life of Abraham Lincoln, by Harriet Putnam
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
Title: The Life of Abraham Lincoln
For Young People Told in Words of One Syllable
Author: Harriet Putnam
Release Date: January 27, 2020 [EBook #61251]
Language: English
Character set encoding: UTF-8
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIFE OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN ***
Produced by Donald Cummings and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
[Illustration: A LOVER OF BOOKS AND STUDY.]
THE LIFE OF
ABRAHAM LINCOLN
FOR YOUNG PEOPLE
TOLD IN WORDS OF ONE SYLLABLE
BY
HARRIET PUTNAM
[Illustration]
McLOUGHLIN BROS. Inc.
New York
Copyright by
McLOUGHLIN BROTHERS
1905
Printed in the United States of America
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.
THE BABE OF THE LOG CABIN AND HIS KIN 5
CHAPTER II.
THE NEW HOME AND THE FIRST GRIEF 13
CHAPTER III.
READING BY THE FIRELIGHT; THE NEW MOTHER; THE FIRST DOLLAR 20
CHAPTER IV.
THE SLAVE SALE. LINCOLN AS SOLDIER, POSTMASTER, SURVEYOR,
AND LAWYER 27
CHAPTER V.
LEADER FOR FREEDOM; LAW MAKER 39
CHAPTER VI.
LINCOLN AND DOUGLAS 55
CHAPTER VII.
THE PEOPLE ASK LINCOLN TO BE THEIR PRESIDENT 63
CHAPTER VIII.
IN THE PRESIDENTIAL CHAIR; THE CIVIL WAR BEGINS 75
CHAPTER IX.
EARLY BATTLES OF THE WAR 85
CHAPTER X.
GRANT WINS IN THE WEST, AND FARRAGUT AT NEW ORLEANS 94
CHAPTER XI.
ANTIETAM, VICKSBURG, GETTYSBURG 105
CHAPTER XII.
CHATTANOOGA, CHICKAMAUGA, LOOKOUT MOUNTAIN. LINCOLN’S
GETTYSBURG SPEECH 115
CHAPTER XIII.
GRANT IN THE EAST. LINCOLN CHOSEN FOR SECOND TERM 121
CHAPTER XIV.
RETURN OF PEACE; LINCOLN SHOT; HIS BURIAL AT SPRINGFIELD 133
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
A LOVER OF BOOKS AND STUDY
DANIEL BOONE
CABIN IN WHICH ABRAHAM LINCOLN WAS BORN
ON THE WAY TO INDIANA
GOING UP TO THE LOFT
THE YOUNG RAIL-SPLITTER
EARNING THE FIRST DOLLAR
LINCOLN’S HOME IN GENTRYVILLE
THE FLAT-BOAT AND ITS CREW ON THE WAY TO NEW ORLEANS
LINCOLN AS CLERK IN OFFUTT’S STORE
CAPTAIN LINCOLN PROTECTING THE OLD INDIAN
ANDREW JACKSON
A KIND DEED
DANIEL WEBSTER
HENRY CLAY
STEPHEN A. DOUGLAS
ON THE STUMP WITH DOUGLAS
THE WIGWAM AT CHICAGO IN WHICH LINCOLN WAS NAMED FOR PRESIDENT
A. LINCOLN
THE LINCOLN HOME IN SPRINGFIELD
JEFFERSON DAVIS
DEFENCES OF WASHINGTON
MARCHING TO BULL RUN
GENERAL WINFIELD SCOTT
BATTLE OF BELMONT
THE ATTACK ON FORT DONELSON
THE CHURCH AT SHILOH
THE LAST CHARGE AT SHILOH
SOUTHERN TROOPS LEAVING CORINTH
GUNBOATS ON THE MISSISSIPPI
FIRST CHARGE AT VICKSBURG
ARMY WAGON
AT MISSIONARY RIDGE
A CHARGE ALL ALONG THE LINE
GENERAL GRANT
GENERAL LEE
LINCOLN AND THE BLACK TROOPS
“COME, BOYS, WE’RE GOING BACK!”
SHERMAN’S FORCES LEAVING ATLANTA
ON THE SKIRMISH LINE
WOUNDED SOLDIERS LEAVING THE BATTLE
CHARGE AT FIVE FORKS
SOUTHERN TROOPS RETREATING FROM RICHMOND
UNION CAVALRY IN PURSUIT OF LEE’S ARMY
UNION TROOPS MARCHING INTO RICHMOND
PRESIDENT LINCOLN AND HIS SON “TAD”
THE MARCH OF UNION TROOPS IN WASHINGTON
ABRAHAM LINCOLN AS HE LOOKED IN 1865
ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN
THE LIFE OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN
CHAPTER I.
THE BABE OF THE LOG CABIN AND HIS KIN.
Near five scores of years have gone by since a poor, plain babe was
born in a log hut on the banks of a small stream known as the “Big
South Fork” of No-lin’s Creek. This was in Ken-tuc-ky and in what is
now La-rue Coun-ty.
It was Sun-day, Feb. 12, 1809, when this child came to bless the world.
The hut, not much more than a cow-shed, held the fa-ther and moth-er,
whose names were Thom-as and Nan-cy, and their girl child, Sa-rah.
These three were the first who saw the strange, sad face of the boy,
who, when he grew to be a man, was so great and good and did such grand
deeds that all the world gave most high praise to him.
The folks from whom the fa-ther came were first known in A-mer-i-ca
in 1618. They came from Eng-land at that time, and made a home at
Hing-ham, Mass. They bore a good name, went straight to work, had
health, strength, thrift, and soon tracts of land for their own.
All the long line of men from whom this babe came bore Bi-ble names.
The first in this land was Sam-u-el. Then came two Mor-de-cais. Next
was John, then A-bra-ham, then Thom-as who was the fa-ther of that
Ken-tuc-ky boy.
Though there was room for hosts of men in Mas-sa-chu-setts, yet
scores left that state and took up land in New Jer-sey. Mor-de-cai
Lin-coln, with his son John, went to Free-hold, New Jer-sey. They made
strong friends there and had a good home. When more land was want-ed,
Mor-de-cai left his son in New Jer-sey for a while, and went to the
Val-ley of the Schuyl-kill in Penn-syl-va-ni-a, where he took up a
large tract of land. John Lin-coln, the son, joined his fa-ther lat-er.
Near their farm was that of George Boone who had come from Eng-land
with e-lev-en chil-dren. One son of George had great love for the
woods, the song of the birds and camp life. He was Dan-iel Boone, the
great hun-ter.
[Illustration: DANIEL BOONE]
The men on Penn-syl-va-ni-a farms, thought it best to buy land on the
oth-er side of the Po-to-mac, so the Lin-colns went in-to the val-ley
of the Shen-an-do-ah and took up tracts on lands which had been
sur-veyed by George Wash-ing-ton. The Boones went to North Car-o-li-na.
When John Lin-coln’s first born son, A-bra-ham, born in Penn-syl-va-ni-a,
came of age, he left his Vir-gin-ia home and went to see the Boones in
North Car-o-li-na. Here he met the sweet Ma-ry Ship-ley whom he wed.
Dan-iel Boone told them that there was a fine land be-yond the
moun-tains. Boone and three more men had found a gate-way in the
moun-tains in 1748. They named it Cum-ber-land Gap, in hon-or of the
Duke of Cum-ber-land, Prime-min-is-ter to King George. They found
rich soil on that oth-er side of the moun-tains, and the haunts of the
buf-fa-lo and deer. Boone got up a band of two score and ten men in
1775 and made a set-tle-ment at a spot to which he gave the name of
Boons-bor-ough, in what is now Ken-tuc-ky.
When the war of the Rev-o-lu-tion came, the In-di-ans had arms and shot
which had been giv-en to them by the Brit-ish. The red men fought hard
for the lands where they were wont to hunt. The white men had to build
forts and watch the foe at all points when they went forth to clear or
till the ground.
Still, more and more folks went to Ken-tuc-ky. Of these, in 1778, were
A-bra-ham Lin-coln and his wife, Ma-ry Ship-ley Lin-coln. With them
were their three boys, Mor-de-cai, Jo-si-ah and Thom-as, the last a
babe in the arms of his moth-er.
From their North Car-o-li-na home, on the banks of the Yad-kin, this
group made a trip of 500 miles. The end of their route was near
Bear-grass Fort, which was not far from what is now the cit-y of
Lou-is-ville, Ken-tuc-ky.
A sad thing came to the Lin-colns in 1784. A-bra-ham with his three
sons went out to clear the land on their farm. A squad of In-di-ans
was near. At the first shot from the brush the good fa-ther fell to the
earth to breathe no more. The two old-er boys got a-way, but Thom-as,
the third son, was caught up by a sav-age, and would have been tak-en
off had not a quick flash come from the eld-est boy’s gun as he fired
from the fort, tak-ing aim at a white or-na-ment on the Indian’s
breast, and kill-ing him at once.
It was the way of those days that the first born son should have what
his fa-ther left. So all went to Mor-de-cai. Jo-si-ah and Thom-as had
to make their own way in the world.
Young Thom-as, at ten years of age was at work on land for small pay.
As he grew in strength he took up tools, put by his coin, and, at last,
could buy some land of his own. When he was a man grown he wed Nan-cy
Hanks, who made a good and true wife for him. He built a hut for her
near E-liz-a-beth-town. In a year’s time, the first child, Sa-rah, was
born.
Two years went by, and as there was but small gain and scarce food for
three there, the Lin-colns went to Big South Fork, put up a poor shack,
a rude hut of one room. The floor was not laid, there was no glass for
the win-dow and no boards for the door. In this poor place A-bra-ham
Lin-coln, II, first saw the light.
[Illustration: CABIN IN WHICH ABRAHAM LINCOLN WAS BORN.]
The moth-er, Nan-cy Hanks, when she came to be the wife of Thom-as
Lin-coln, was a score and three years old. She was tall, had dark hair,
good looks, much grace, and a kind heart. It is said that at times she
had a far off look in her eyes as if she could see what oth-ers did
not see. She had been at school in her Vir-gin-ia home, could read
and write, and had great love for books. She knew much of the Bi-ble
by heart, and it made her glad to tell her dear ones of it. The brave
young wife did all she could to help in that poor home. The love she
had for her babes kept joy in her heart. Her boy was ver-y close to
her. As she looked in-to his deep eyes, she seemed to know that child
was born for grand deeds. As he learned to talk, his moth-er hid his
say-ings in her heart, tell-ing but few friends who were near her, how
she felt a-bout that son. But she had too much to do to dream long. As
Thom-as was much from home the young wife had to leave her babes on a
bed of leaves, take the gun, go out and bring down a deer or a bear,
dress the flesh, and cook it at the fire. She used skins for clothes,
shoes, and caps. All the time it was toil, toil, but love kept the work
less hard.
As the boy, A-bra-ham, grew in strength and health, his eyes turned
to his moth-er for all that made life dear. In af-ter years he oft-en
said, “All that I am I owe to my moth-er.”
There was no door to the Lin-coln hut, so the moth-er hung up a bear
skin as a shield from the cold, and pressed her babe to her breast as
the chill winds swept in be-tween the logs.
At the fire on the hearth the corn-cake was baked and the ba-con fried.
Game was hung up in front of the fire, and turned from time to time,
that it might all be brown and crisp. When free from toil the moth-er
taught her lad and lass, and the “gude-man,” too, that it might make
him more than he was to her, to him-self, and to oth-ers. The truths
the moth-er gave out sank deep in the heart of her boy, and in due time
they put forth shoots which grew to a great size, and were of use to
the world.
Four years went by, and then the Lin-colns took a bet-ter farm at Knob
Creek, built a cab-in, dug a well, and cleared some land. The new home
was but a short way from the patch on the side of that hill on No-lin’s
Creek, but a good farm might have been made there if Thom-as Lin-coln
had been a man who would stay in one place, and work the soil year in
and year out. He had not the pluck to keep a farm up to the mark.
When A-bra-ham was five years old he oft-en went with his folks three
miles from home to a place called “Lit-tle Mound.” A log-house had been
built there, and a man found whose name was Rev. Da-vid El-kins, and
who was glad to come a long way through the woods to preach from the
Word of God.
The small boy soon had a great love for that good man. The ways of the
child drew the preach-er to him and they were soon fast friends.
Ere long one came by who said he could teach all the folks to spell
and read. A class was made up, and, strange to say, the five-year-old
A-bra-ham stood at the head of it! His moth-er had taught him. She,
al-so, had told him to be kind and good to all. There were sol-diers on
the road from time to time, go-ing home from the war of 1812. One day
the young child saw one near him when he held in his hand a string of
fish he had just caught. He gave all his fish to the sol-dier.
CHAPTER II.
THE NEW HOME AND THE FIRST GRIEF.
When A-bra-ham was sev-en years old, his fa-ther Thom-as Lin-coln,
found his farm too much for him. What he liked best was change. He said
it would suit him to move to the West, where rich soil and more game
could be found.
He thought he would take what he could of their poor goods, set off
and hunt up a home. So he built a frail craft, put his wares on it,
but soon got on the snags and lost most of what he had. He swam to the
shore. In a few days the wa-ters, which had come up as high as the
banks, went down, and folks a-long shore helped him get up a few of
his goods from the bot-tom of the riv-er. These goods he put in-to a
new boat, which he said he would pay for as soon as he could, and then
float-ed down the O-hi-o to Thomp-son’s Land-ing. Here he put what he
had brought with him in-to a store-house, and went off a score of miles
through the woods to Pig-eon Creek. He found the soil all he thought
it would be. He chose a tract of land, and then made a long trip to
“en-ter his claim” at Vin-cennes. The next thing to do was to go back
to Ken-tuc-ky.
The cool days of No-vem-ber had come ere wife and chil-dren, with two
hor-ses which a friend had loaned, and what goods were left, set out
for the far off land of In-di-an-a. When night came they slept on the
ground on beds made of leaves and pine twigs. They ate the game the
ri-fles brought down, cooking it by the camp fire. From time to time
they had to ford or swim streams. They were glad that no rain fell in
all their long route.
[Illustration: ON THE WAY TO INDIANA.]
Sa-rah and A-bra-ham thought it was nice to spend weeks in the free,
wild life of the woods. A-corns and wal-nuts they found, and fish came
up when they put a fat worm on their hooks. They could wade and swim
in the cool brooks and gather huge piles of dried leaves for their
sound sleep at night.
But at last they came to the banks of one stream from which they could
look far off to the land where they were to make their new home. All
was still there save the sound of the birds and small game. Right in-to
the heart of the dense woods they went on a piece of tim-ber-land a
mile and a half east of what is now Gen-try-ville, Spen-cer Co. This
was A-bra-ham Lin-coln’s third home. Here his fa-ther built a log
“half-face,” half a score and four feet square. It had no win-dows and
no chim-ney. For more than twelve months the Lin-colns staid in this
camp. They got a bit of corn from a patch, and ground it in-to meal at
a hand grist-mill, sev-en miles off, and this was their chief food.
There was, of course, game, fish, and wild fruits.
Their beds were still heaps of dry leaves. The lad slept in a small
loft at one end of the cab-in to which he went up by means of pegs in
the wall. A-bra-ham was then in his eighth year, tall for his age, and
clad in a home-spun garb or part skins of beasts. The cap was made of
the skin of a coon with the tail on. The child did much work. He knew
the use of the axe, the wedge, and the maul, and with these he found
out how to split rails from logs drawn out of the woods. To clear
the land so that they could plant corn to feed the fam-i-ly, and hew
tim-ber to build the new house was work that gave fa-ther and son much
to do. At last Sa-rah and A-bra-ham felt that they had a house to be
proud of, though it was not much bet-ter than the one they had left.
Its floor had not been laid, and there were no boards of which to make
the door when they moved in. Some friends had come to see them, and as
there would be more room for them in the new house they went to live
there. It was a glad day when Thom-as Spar-row, whose wife was Mr.
Lin-coln’s sis-ter, and Den-nis Hanks, her nephew, came.
[Illustration: GOING UP TO THE LOFT.]
The brief joy of the Lin-colns was soon lost in a great grief. An
ill-ness came to that place and man-y folks died. Mrs. Lin-coln fell
sick. She knew that she must leave her dear ones. Her work was at an
end. As her son stood at her bed-side she said, “A-bra-ham, I am go-ing
a-way from you. I shall not come back. I know that you will be a good
boy, that you will be kind to Sa-rah and to your fa-ther. I want you to
live as I have taught you, and to love your Heav-en-ly Fa-ther.”
The grief that came then to A-bra-ham Lin-coln made its mark on him, a
stamp that went with him through life.
When that moth-er died, that dear moth-er, to whom he gave so much
love, the boy felt that he did not want to live an-y long-er. He
thought his heart would break. He staid days by his moth-er’s grave.
He could not eat. He could not sleep. Soon Mr. and Mrs. Spar-row, the
guests, died. The strange ill-ness came to them. It came, al-so, e-ven
to the beasts of the fields in that land. Those were sad days.
Nan-cy Hanks Lin-coln was 33 years old when she died. Her hus-band,
Thom-as, made a cof-fin for her of green lum-ber cut with a whip-saw,
and she, with oth-ers, was bur-ied in a small “clear-ing” made in the
woods. There were no pray-ers or hymns. It was great grief to young
A-bra-ham that the good man of God who spoke in the old home was not
there to say some words at that time. It was then that the ten-year old
child wrote his first let-ter. It was hard work, for he had had small
chance to learn that art. But his love for his moth-er led his hand
so that he put down the words on pa-per, and a friend took them five
scores of miles off. Good Par-son El-kins took the poor note sent from
the boy he loved, and, with his heart full of pit-y for the great grief
which had come to his old friends, and be-cause of his deep re-gard for
the no-ble wom-an who had gone to her rest, he made the long jour-ney,
though weeks passed ere he could stand by that grave and say the words
A-bra-ham longed to hear.
CHAPTER III.
READING BY THE FIRELIGHT; THE NEW MOTHER; THE FIRST DOLLAR.
With moth-er gone, Sa-rah Lin-coln must keep the house, do the work,
sew and cook for fa-ther and broth-er. She was 11 years old. The boy
did his part but though he kept a bright fire on the hearth, it was
still a sad home when moth-er was not there.
Books came to give a bit of cheer. An a-rith-me-tic was found in some
way and al-so a co-py of Æ-sop’s Fa-bles. For a slate a shov-el was
used. For a pen-cil a charred stick did the work.
A year went by, and one day Thom-as Lin-coln left home. He soon came
back and brought a new wife with him. She was Sa-rah Bush John-ston, an
old friend of E-liz-a-beth-town days. She had three chil-dren――John,
Sa-rah and Ma-til-da. A kind man took them and their goods in a
four-horse cart way to In-di-an-a.
A great change then came to the Lin-coln house. There were three
bright girls and three boys who made a deal of noise. A door was hung,
a floor laid, a win-dow put in. There were new chairs, a bu-reau,
feath-er-beds, new clothes, neat ways, good food, lov-ing care, and
much to show A-bra-ham that there was still some hope in the world.
The new moth-er was a kind wom-an, and at once took the sad boy to her
heart. All his life from that time, he gave praise to this friend in
need.
A chance came then for a brief time at school, and this was “made the
most of.” Folks said the boy “grew like a weed.” When he was twelve
it was said one “could al-most see him grow.” At half a score and
five years old he was six feet and four in-ches high. He was well,
strong, and kind. He had to work hard. He did most of the work his
fa-ther should have done. But in the midst of it all he found time to
read. He kept a scrap-book, too, and put in it verse, prose, bits from
his-to-ry, “sums,” and all print and writ-ing he wished to keep. At
night he would lie flat on the floor and read and “fig-ure” by fire
light.
One day some one told A-bra-ham that Mr. Craw-ford, a man whose home
was miles off, had a book he ought to read. This was a great book in
those days. It was Weems’ “Life of Wash-ing-ton.” The youth set off
through the woods to ask the loan of it. He got the book and read
it with joy. At night he put it in what he thought was a safe place
be-tween the logs, but rain came in and wet it, so he went straight to
Craw-ford, told the tale, and worked three days at “pull-ing fod-der”
to pay for the harm which had come to the book.
[Illustration: THE YOUNG RAIL-SPLITTER.]
It was the way in those times in that place for a youth to work till he
was a score and one years old for his fa-ther. This young Lin-coln did,
work-ing out where he would build fires, chop wood, “tote” wa-ter, tend
ba-bies, do all sorts of chores, mow, reap, sow, plough, split rails,
and then give what he earned to his fa-ther.
Though work filled the days, much of the nights were giv-en to books.
In rough garb, deer skin shoes, with a blaze of pine knots on the
hearth, A-bra-ham read, read, fill-ing his mind with things that were a
help to him all his life. He knew how to talk and tell tales, and folks
liked to hear him. He led in all out of door sports. He was kind to
those not so strong as he was. All were his friends.
The first mon-ey that he thought he might call his own he earned with
a boat he had made. It seems that one day as he stood look-ing at it
and think-ing if he could do an-y thing to im-prove it, two men drove
down to the shore with trunks. They took a glance at some boats they
found there, chose Lin-coln’s boat, and asked him if he would take men
and trunks out to the steam-er. He said he would. So he got the trunks
on the flat-boat, the men sat down on them, and he sculled out to the
steam-er.
[Illustration: EARNING THE FIRST DOLLAR.]
The men got on board the steam-er, and their young boat-man lift-ed the
hea-vy trunks to her deck. Steam was put on, and in an in-stant the
craft would be gone. Then the youth sang out that his pas-sen-gers had
not yet paid him.
Each man then took from his pock-et a sil-ver half-dol-lar and threw
it on the floor of the flat-boat. Great was the sur-prise of young
Lin-coln to think so much mon-ey was his for so lit-tle work. He had
thought “two or three bits” would be a-bout right. The coin which came
to him then, when off du-ty from his fa-ther’s toil, the youth thought
might be his own. It made him feel like a man, and the world then was
more bright for him.
A man who kept a store thought he would send a “car-go load,” ba-con,
corn meal, and oth-er goods, down to New Or-leans in a large flat-boat.
As A-bra-ham was at all times safe and sure, the own-er, Mr. Gen-try,
asked him to go with his son and help a-long. They had to trade on the
“su-gar-coast,” and one night sev-en black men tried to kill and rob
them. Though the young sail-ors got some blows, they at last drove off
the ne-groes, “cut ca-ble,” “weighed an-chor,” and left. They went past
Nat-chez, an old town set-tled by the French when they took the tract
which is now Lou-is-i-an-a. The hou-ses were of a strange form to the
boat-men. The words they heard were in a tongue they did not know.
They passed large plan-ta-tions, and saw groups of huts built for the
slaves. At New Or-leans, in the old part of the town where they staid,
all things were so odd that it seemed as if they were in a land be-yond
the great sea. When they had left their car-go in its right place, they
went back to In-di-an-a, and Mr. Gen-try thought they had done well.
A-bra-ham had more to think of when he came home. He had seen so much
on his trip that the world was not quite the same to him. Scores of
flat-boats were moored at lev-ees, steam-boats went and came, big
ships were at an-chor in the riv-er. Men were there who sailed far
o-ver the seas in search of gold, rich goods, sights of pla-ces, tribes
and climes to which Lin-coln had not giv-en much thought. If oth-er men
went out in-to the world, why might he not go? Why stay in this dull
place and toil for naught? He had come to an age in which there was
un-rest. His fa-ther’s wish was that he should push a plane and use a
saw all his days. This sort of work did not suit him. Why not strike
out? Then the thought came to him that his time was not yet his own.
His moth-er’s words spoke to him as they did when he was a small boy at
her bed-side for the last time; “Be kind to your fa-ther.”
[Illustration: LINCOLN’S HOME IN GENTRYVILLE.]
So A-bra-ham went back to Pig-eon Creek to work and bide his time.
CHAPTER IV.
THE SLAVE SALE. LINCOLN AS SOLDIER, POSTMASTER, SURVEYOR, AND LAWYER.
One day a let-ter came to Thom-as Lin-coln. It bore the post-mark of
De-ca-tur, Ill. It said that Il-li-nois was a grand state: “The soil is
rich and there are trees of oak, gum, elm, and more sorts, while creeks
and riv-ers are plen-ty.” It al-so told that “scores of men had come
there from Ken-tuc-ky and oth-er states, and that they would all soon
get rich there.”
To Thom-as Lin-coln this was good news. He was glad of a chance to make
an-oth-er home. He knew, too, that the same sick-ness which took his
first wife from him had come back, and that he must make a quick move
if he would save those who were left. This was in March, 1830, when
A-bra-ham was a score and one years old. He made up his mind to see his
folks to their new home since go they would.
Then came an auc-tion, or, as they called it, a “van-doo.” The corn was
sold; the farm, hogs, house goods, all went to those folks who would
give the most for them. Four ox-en drew a big cart which held half a
score and three per-sons, the Hanks, the Halls, and Lin-colns. They
had to push on through mud, and cross streams high from fresh-ets.
A-bra-ham held the “gad” and kept the beasts at their task. With him
the young man took a small stock of thread, pins, and small wares which
he sold on the way. When half a score and five days had gone by the
trip came to an end. The spot for a home was found when all were safe
in Il-li-nois and it was on the north fork of the San-ga-mon Riv-er,
ten miles west of the town of De-ca-tur.
The young men went to work and made clear half a score and five a-cres
of land and split the rails with which to fence it. There was no one
who could swing an axe like A-bra-ham, not one in the whole West. He
could now “have his own time” for his 21 years of work for his fa-ther
were at an end. The law said he was free. Though he need not now give
all that he won by toil to his folks, still he did not let them want.
To the end of his life he gave help to his kin, though he was far from
rich.
When Spring had gone by, and the warm days of 1830 had come, A-bra-ham
Lin-coln left home and set off to get a job in that new land. He saw
new farms with no fen-ces. He was sure that his axe could cut up logs
and fell trees. He was in need of clothes. So he split 400 rails for
each yard of “blue jeans” to make him a pair of trou-sers. The name of
“rail-split-ter,” came to him. He knew that he could do this work well.
All he met would at once like him. It was the same way in the new state
as it had been in the last.
There was a man whose name was Of-futt. He saw what young Lin-coln was.
He knew he could trust him to do all things. Mr. Of-futt said he must
help sail a flat-boat down the Mis-sis-sip-pi riv-er to New Or-leans.
He said he would give the new hand fif-ty cents a day. Poor A-bra-ham
thought this a large sum. Of-futt said too, that he would give a third
share in six-ty dol-lars to each of his three boat-men at the end of
the trip. At a saw-mill near San-ga-mon-town the flat-boat was built.
Young Lin-coln worked on the boat, and was cook too, for the men.
At last they were off with their load of pork, live hogs, and corn.
When the flat-boat ran a-ground at New Sa-lem, and there was great risk
that it would be a wreck, Lin-coln found a way to get it off. Folks
stood on the banks and cheered at the wise plan of the bright boat-man.
[Illustration: THE FLAT-BOAT AND ITS CREW ON THE WAY TO NEW ORLEANS.]
When first in New Or-leans, though Lin-coln had seen slaves, he had not
known what a slave sale was like. This time he saw one and it made him
sick. Tears stood in his eyes. He turned from it and said to those
with him, “Come a-way, boys! If I ev-er get a chance, some day, to hit
that thing,” (here he flung his long arms to-ward that block), “I’ll
hit it hard!”
The boat-men made their way home, while Of-futt staid in St. Lou-is to
buy goods for a new store that he was to start in New Sa-lem. First
A-bra-ham went to see his fa-ther and help him put up a house of hewn
logs, the best he had ev-er had.
When Of-futt’s goods came A-bra-ham Lin-coln took his place as clerk.
The folks who came to buy soon found out that there was one in that
store who would not cheat. The coins at that time were Eng-lish or
Span-ish. The clerk was ex-act in fig-ures, but if a chance frac-tion
went wrong he would ride miles to make it right.
[Illustration: LINCOLN AS CLERK IN OFFUTT’S STORE.]
There were rough men and boys near that store. Lin-coln would not let
them say or do things that were low and bad. The time came when he had
to whip some of them. He taught them a les-son. His great strength was
his own and his friends’ pride.
Days there were when small trade came to the store. Then the young
clerk read. One thing he felt he must have. That was a gram-mar. He
had made up his mind that since he could talk he would learn to use the
right words. He took a walk of some miles to get a loan of “Kirk-ham’s
Gram-mar.” He had no one to teach him, but he gave his mind to
the work and did well. Each book of which he heard in New Sa-lem, he
asked that he might have for a short time. He found out all that the
books taught. Once, deep down in a box of trash, he found two old law
books. He was glad then, and said he would not leave them till he got
the “juice” from them. Folks in the store thought it strange that the
young clerk could like those “dry lines.” They soon said that A-bra-ham
Lin-coln had long legs, long arms, and a long head, too. They felt
that he knew more than “an-y ten men in the set-tle-ment,” and that he
had “ground it out a-lone.” He read the news-pa-pers a-loud to scores
of folks who had a wish to know what went on in the land and could
not read for them-selves. He read and spoke on the themes of the day,
and at last, his friends said that he ought to help make the state
laws, since he knew so much, and they felt that he would be sure to
plan so that the poor as well as the rich should have a chance. So in
March, 1832, it was known that A-bra-ham’s name was brought up as a
“can-di-date” for a post in the Il-li-nois State Leg-is-la-ture. Ere
the time for e-lec-tion came, that part of the land found men must be
sent to fight the In-di-ans who were on the war-path. The great chief,
Black Hawk, sought to keep the red men’s lands from the white folks,
but at last he had to give up, though he did all he could to help his
own blood. He was brave and true to his own.
Young men of San-ga-mon went out to fight, with A-bra-ham Lin-coln as
cap-tain. They were not much more than an armed mob, poor at drill,
and with not much will to mind or-ders or live up to camp rules. Their
cap-tain had hard work to gov-ern them, for when he gave a com-mand
they were as apt to jeer at it as to mind it. But in time they learned
that he meant what he said, and that while it was not his way to be too
strict a-bout small things, he would not let them do a grave wrong.
One day a poor old In-di-an strayed in-to the camp. He had a pass from
Gen-er-al Cass which said that he was a friend of the whites, but the
men had come out to kill red-skins, and not hav-ing yet had a chance to
do so, thought they must seize this one. They said the pass was forged,
and that the old man was a spy, and should be put to death.
But Cap-tain Lin-coln heard the noise, and came to the aid of the old
man just in time. He put him-self be-tween his men and their vic-tim,
and told them they must not do this thing. They were so full of wrath
that Lin-coln’s own life was at risk for a while, but his brave look
and firm words at length brought them to terms, and the old sav-age was
let go with-out harm.
[Illustration: CAPTAIN LINCOLN PROTECTING THE OLD INDIAN.]
The time for which the men had en-list-ed was soon at an end, and all
but two of them went home. Lin-coln was one of those who took a place
as a pri-vate in an-oth-er com-pa-ny, and he did not leave till the end
of the war.
A-bra-ham Lin-coln, when he had got home from the war, sent out word
that he would speak where there was need of him as “Whig,” for he was a
“Clay man through and through.” He made his first “po-lit-i-cal” speech
at a small place a few miles west of Spring-field. It was a short one.
While what he said was to the point and no fault could be found with
it, still, his strange looks and queer clothes made those who were not
on his side laugh and make fun of his long legs and arms, and say he
would not be the choice of the most for an-y post. Still, he made more
friends than foes, and though he did not, at that time, get a chance to
go to the Leg-is-la-ture, he had but to wait a while when bet-ter luck
came to him.
In the mean time Mr. Lin-coln knew that he must find work of some kind,
for he had no funds on which he could live. He then kept a store with a
man, but the gain was small and at last they had to give up. There was
a large debt and the part-ner would not help pay it, so Lin-coln took
it all on him-self, though long years went by ere it was all paid.
Law came to him as the next best move, and once more the young man gave
his mind to it all his time, days as well as most of the nights. But
coin could not come from that source for quite a while yet, and, in the
mean-time, there must be food and clothes.
The new lands, just there, had not been sur-veyed. There was need of a
man to do this. Lin-coln heard of a book which would tell him how to
work with chain and rule. He spent six weeks with that book in his hand
most of the time. Then he set off to start work, and as he was too poor
to buy a chain, he found a strong grape vine to take its place. He was
right glad of the sums which came to him then for do-ing this work.
The pres-i-dent of the U. S. at that time was An-drew Jack-son. He was
a strong friend of A-bra-ham Lin-coln and made him Post-mas-ter of New
Sa-lem in 1833.
[Illustration: ANDREW JACKSON]
As folks did not write much in those days, the post of-fice took but
a small part of Mr. Lin-coln’s time. The news-pa-pers which came by
post were read, and passed from one to an-oth-er, and the post-mas-ter
oft-en told the news as he went to the hou-ses where let-ters were to
be left. The hat took the place of a mail bag. The grape vine chain and
the tools with which the length and breadth of the land were found went
a-long, too, as the good man took up his job at sur-vey-ing. Law books
must have their share of time and that had to come then, most-ly from
sleep hours. There were scores of folks who asked the post-mas-ter to
help them. This he did with great good will. He now knew some law and
could set them right. All had trust in him. It was not long, then, ere
he was at the Bar.
CHAPTER V.
LEADER FOR FREEDOM; LAW MAKER.
When A-bra-ham Lin-coln was a score and five years old, a great
chance to step up came to him. His friends sent him to the Il-li-nois
Leg-is-la-ture. He had then not one dol-lar with which he could buy
clothes to wear to that place. A friend let him have the funds of which
he was in need, sure that they would come back to him.
At first, the young man in the new place did not talk or do much. He
felt that it was best for him, then, to wait and learn. He made a
stud-y of the new sort of men a-bout him at that time. When it came
his turn to speak, he said just what he thought on the theme that came
up. His mind told him that all who paid tax-es or bore arms ought to
have the right to vote. He was not a-fraid to say that, though men of
more years and more fame than he took the oth-er side. He was brave,
but not rash. His speech was plain, but to the point. He did not
boast. He did not try to hide the fact that he was poor. There were,
some-times, those who called them-selves “men,” who would point at his
plain clothes of “blue jeans” and laugh at them, and try to get oth-ers
to do the same. The great length of bod-y, the toil-worn hands, the
back-woods ways made talk for foes, but Lin-coln bore these “flings”
well, and oft-en used them for jokes.
Though this high post had come to A-bra-ham Lin-coln he did not feel
too proud to do the “sim-ple deeds of kind-ness” which he had done
all through his life. It seems that one day he went out with some
law-mak-ers, for a ride on the prai-ries. He passed a place where a pig
was stuck in the mud. The poor beast looked up at him as if beg-ging
his help. The look plain-ly said that death must soon come un-less the
horse-man gave his aid. Lin-coln was wear-ing his best clothes at that
time. They had been bought with the mon-ey his friend had loaned him. A
new suit could not be his for a long time. And yet, e-ven though gone
past, and at the risk of jeers from his com-rades, he went back, got
off his horse, and pulled the pig out up-on firm land. To be sure there
was mud on his clothes, but his heart was free from re-gret.
[Illustration: A KIND DEED.]
Though A-bra-ham Lin-coln had been ad-mit-ted to the Bar and had
been made a mem-ber of the Leg-is-la-ture, still he went on with his
stud-ies, nev-er let-ting a day go by on which he did not give some
hours to books. These books told a-bout math-e-mat-ics, as-tron-o-my,
rhet-o-ric, lit-er-a-ture, log-ic and oth-er things with hard names.
While at work with chain and tools, tak-ing the length and breadth of
the land, Mr. Lin-coln earned from $12.00 to $15.00 each month. He used
a part of this small sum to pay up an old debt and al-so had to help
his kin from week to week. But he felt he must give up this small sure
mon-ey for the sake of his new start in life, though the gains were by
no means sure to be large. He said he would “take his chance” at the
law.
It was in A-pril, 1837, that Mr. Lin-coln rode in-to Spring-field,
Ill., on a horse a friend had loaned him. A few clothes were all that
he owned, and these he had in a pair of sad-dle bags, strapped on his
horse. He drew up his steed in front of Josh-u-a Speed’s store and went
in.
“I want a room, and must have a bed-stead and some bed-ding. How much
shall I pay?” he asked.
His friend Speed took his slate and count-ed up the price of these
things. They came to $17.00.
“Well,” said A-bra-ham Lin-coln, “I’ve no doubt but that is cheap but
I’ve no mon-ey to pay for them. If you can trust me till Christ-mas,
and I earn an-y-thing at law, I’ll pay you then. If I fail, I fear I
shall nev-er be a-ble to pay you.”
Lin-coln’s face was sad. He had worked hard all his life, had helped
scores of folks, and now, af-ter so man-y years, when he much need-ed
mon-ey, he had none.
The friend-ly store-keep-er tried to cheer the good man. “I can fix
things bet-ter than that,” he said. “I have a large room and a dou-ble
bed up stairs. You are wel-come to share my room and bed with me.”
So A-bra-ham Lin-coln took his sad-dle-bags up stairs, and then came
down with a bright look on his face, and said, “There, I am moved!”
In Spring-field at that time was a man who had been with Lin-coln as a
sol-dier in the In-di-an war. This was Ma-jor John T. Stu-art. He took
Lin-coln in with him as a law-part-ner and their firm name was Stu-art
& Lin-coln.
A-bra-ham Lin-coln’s first fee was three dol-lars made in Oc-to-ber,
1837. There was not much law work the first sum-mer. What there was had
to be paid for, oft-en, in but-ter, milk, fruit, eggs, or dry goods.
In those days folks lived so far a-part, that courts were held first in
one place and then in an-oth-er. So Lin-coln rode a-bout the land, to
go with the courts and pick up a case here and there. In this way he
saw lots of peo-ple, made warm friends, and told scores of bright tales.
At no time did he use a word which was not clear to the dull-est
ju-ry-man. All things were made plain when Lin-coln tried a case. Not
on-ly was he plain and straight in what he said and did, but his heart
was ev-er ten-der and true.
A sto-ry is told of a thing that took place on one of the “cir-cuit
rid-ing” trips. Lin-coln saw two lit-tle birds that the wind had blown
from their nest, but where that nest was one could not say. A close
search at last brought the nest to light, and Lin-coln took the birds
o-ver to it and placed them in it. His com-rades laughed at him as he
jumped on his horse and was rid-ing a-way.
“That’s all right, boys,” said he. “But I couldn’t sleep to-night
un-less I had found the moth-er’s nest for those birds.”
All ha-bits of stud-y were kept up, and in time fame as a speak-er
came to A-bra-ham Lin-coln. As a wri-ter, too, he was prized. E-ven at
the age of a score and nine years he wrote so well up-on themes of the
day that the San-ga-mon Jour-nal and oth-er pa-pers would print his
ar-ti-cles in full.
In the year 1840, Miss Ma-ry Todd of Ken-tuc-ky be-came Lin-coln’s
wife, and helped him save his funds so well that, in a short time he
was a-ble to buy a small house in Spring-field. Then, soon, he bought a
horse and he was ver-y glad to do so.
By that year so well did Lin-coln speak that his name was put up-on
the “Har-ri-son E-lec-to-ral Tick-et,” that he should “can-vass the
State.” As he went a-bout the land he oft-en met old friends, those who
had known him as a poor boy. Some-times it chanced that he could be of
use to them.
There was a Jack Arm-strong who once fought Lin-coln when he was a
clerk at Of-futt’s. The son of this man was in trou-ble. The charge was
mur-der. His fa-ther be-ing dead, the moth-er, Han-nah, who knew and
had been kind to the boy Lin-coln, went, now, to the man Lin-coln to
plead with him to save her son. The case was tak-en up, and much time
and thought giv-en to it. Things which were false had been told but
Lin-coln was a-ble to search out and find the truth, and when at last
he saw it and made oth-ers see it, the lad went free.
Though, at first, A-bra-ham Lin-coln thought much of An-drew Jack-son,
as time went on he found that Jack-son held views that he could not
hold. So he came to be known as an an-ti-Jack-son man and made his
first en-try in-to pub-lic life as such. At the age of 31 he was known
as the a-blest Whig stump speak-er in Il-li-nois. Two great Whigs at
that time were Dan-iel Web-ster and Hen-ry Clay. Lin-coln was sent, as
a Whig, in 1846, to the Con-gress of the U-ni-ted States, and he was
the sole Whig mem-ber from Il-li-nois.