Books: The Life of Abraham Lincoln

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There was nothing of special interest in any of these teachers, but
their names are preserved simply because the fact that they did teach
him is a matter of great interest. The first teacher was Zachariah
Riney, a Roman Catholic, from whose schoolroom the Protestants were
excluded, or excused, during the opening exercises. Then came Caleb
Hazel. These were in Kentucky, and therefore their instruction of
Lincoln must have come to an end by the time he was seven years old.
When ten years old he studied under one Dorsey, when about fourteen
under Crawford, and when sixteen under Swaney.

It can hardly be doubted that his mother's instruction was of more
worth than all these put together. A woman who, under such limitations,
had energy enough to teach her husband to read and write, was a rare
character, and her influence could not be other than invaluable to the
bright boy. Charles Lamb classified all literature in two divisions:
"Books that are not books, and books that are books." It is important
that every boy learn to read. But a far more important question is,
What use does he make of his ability to read? Does he read "books that
are books?" Let us now see what use Lincoln made of his knowledge of
reading.

In those days books were rare and his library was small and select. It
consisted at first of three volumes: The Bible, Aesop's Fables and
Pilgrim's Progress. Some-time in the eighties a prominent magazine
published a series of articles written by men of eminence in the
various walks of life, under the title of "Books that have helped me."
The most noticeable fact was that each of these eminent men--men who
had read hundreds of books--specified not more than three or four
books. Lincoln's first list was of three. They were emphatically books.
Day after day he read, pondered and inwardly digested them until they
were his own. Better books he could not have found in all the
universities of Europe, and we begin to understand where he got his
moral vision, his precision of English style, and his shrewd humor.

Later he borrowed from a neighbor, Josiah Crawford, a copy of Weems'
Life of Washington. In lieu of a bookcase he tucked this, one night,
into the chinking of the cabin. A rain-storm came up and soaked the
book through and through. By morning it presented a sorry appearance.
The damage was done and could not be repaired. Crestfallen the lad
carried it back to the owner and, having no money, offered to pay for
the mischief in work. Crawford agreed and named seventy-five cents (in
labor) as a fair sum.

"Does this pay for the book," the borrower asked, "or only for the
damage to the book?" Crawford reckoned that the book "wa'n't of much
account to him nor to any one else." So Lincoln cheerfully did the
work--it was for three days--and owned the book.

Later he had a life of Henry Clay, whom he nearly idolized. His one
poet was Burns, whom he knew by heart "from a to izzard." Throughout
his life he ranked Burns next to Shakespeare.

The hymns which he most loved must have had influence not only on his
religious spirit, but also on his literary taste. Those which are
mentioned are, "Am I a soldier of the cross?" "How tedious and
tasteless the hours," "There is a fountain filled with blood," and
"Alas, and did my Saviour bleed?" Good hymns every one of them, in that
day, or in any day.

Having no slate he did his "sums" in the sand on the ground, or on a
wooden shovel which, after it was covered on both sides, he scraped
down so as to erase the work. A note-book is preserved, containing,
along with examples in arithmetic, this boyish doggerel:

Abraham Lincoln
his hand and pen
he will be good but
god knows When.

The penmanship bears a striking resemblance to that in later life.

[Illustration: Lincoln's Early Home In Indiana.]

About a year after Thomas Lincoln's family settled in Indiana, they
were followed by some neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Sparrow and Dennis Hanks,
a child. To these the Lincolns surrendered their camp and built for
themselves a cabin, which was slightly more pretentious than the first.
It had an attic, and for a stairway there were pegs in the wall up
which an active boy could readily climb. There was a stationary table,
the legs being driven into the ground, some three-legged stools, and a
Dutch oven.

In the year 1818 a mysterious epidemic passed over the region, working
havoc with men and cattle. It was called the "milk-sick." Just what it
was physicians are unable to determine, but it was very destructive.
Both Mr. and Mrs. Sparrow were attacked. They were removed, for better
care, to the home of the Lincolns, where they shortly died. By this
time Mrs. Lincoln was down with the same scourge. There was no doctor
to be had, the nearest one being thirty-five miles away. Probably it
made no difference. At all events she soon died and the future
president passed into his first sorrow.

The widowed husband was undertaker. With his own hands he "rived" the
planks, made the coffin, and buried Nancy Hanks, that remarkable woman.
There was no pastor, no funeral service. The grave was marked by a
wooden slab, which, long years after, in 1879, was replaced by a stone
suitably inscribed.

A traveling preacher known as Parson Elkin had occasionally preached in
the neighborhood of the Lincolns in Kentucky. The young boy now put to
use his knowledge of writing. He wrote a letter to the parson inviting
him to come over and preach the funeral sermon. How he contrived to get
the letter to its destination we do not know, but it was done. The
kind-hearted preacher cheerfully consented, though it involved a long
and hard journey. He came at his earliest convenience, which was some
time the next year.

There was no church in which to hold the service. Lincoln never saw a
church building of any description until he was grown. But the
neighbors to the number of about two hundred assembled under the trees,
where the parson delivered the memorial sermon.

Lincoln was nine years old when his mother died, October 5th, 1818. Her
lot was hard, her horizon was narrow, her opportunities were
restricted, her life was one of toil and poverty. All through her life
and after her untimely death, many people would have said that she had
had at best but a poor chance in the world. Surely no one would have
predicted that her name would come to be known and reverenced from
ocean to ocean. But she was faithful, brave, cheerful. She did her duty
lovingly. In later years the nation joined with her son in paying honor
to the memory of this noble, overworked, uncomplaining woman.

CHAPTER IV.

IN INDIANA.

The death of his wife had left Thomas Lincoln with the care of three
young children: namely, Sarah, about eleven years old, Abe, ten years
old, and the foster brother, Dennis (Friend) Hanks, a year or two
younger. The father was not able to do woman's work as well as his wife
had been able to do man's work, and the condition of the home was
pitiable indeed. To the three motherless children and the bereaved
father it was a long and dreary winter. When spring came they had the
benefits of life in the woods and fields, and so lived through the
season until the edge of the following winter. It is not to be wondered
at that the father was unwilling to repeat the loneliness of the
preceding year.

Early in December, 1819, he returned to Elizabethtown, Ky., and
proposed marriage to a widow, Mrs. Sally Bush Johnston. The proposal
must have been direct, with few preliminaries or none, for the couple
were married next morning. The new wife brought him a fortune, in
addition to three children of various ages, of sundry articles of
household furniture. Parents, children, and goods were shortly after
loaded into a wagon drawn by a four-horse team, and in all the style of
this frontier four-in-hand, were driven over indescribable roads,
through woods and fields, to their Indiana home.

The accession of Sally Bush's furniture made an important improvement
in the home. What was more important, she had her husband finish the
log cabin by providing window, door, and floor. What was most important
of all, she brought the sweet spirit of an almost ideal motherhood into
the home, giving to all the children alike a generous portion of
mother-love.

The children now numbered six, and not only were they company for one
another, but the craving for womanly affection, which is the most
persistent hunger of the heart of child or man, was beautifully met.
She did not humor them to the point of idleness, but wisely ruled with
strictness without imperiousness. She kept them from bad habits and
retained their affection to the last. The influence upon the growing
lad of two such women as Nancy Hanks and Sally Bush was worth more than
that of the best appointed college in all the land.

The boy grew into youth, and he grew very fast. While still in his
teens he reached the full stature of his manhood, six feet and four
inches. His strength was astonishing, and many stories were told of
this and subsequent periods to illustrate his physical prowess, such
as: he once lifted up a hencoop weighing six hundred pounds and carried
it off bodily; he could lift a full barrel of cider to his mouth and
drink from the bung-hole; he could sink an ax-halve deeper into a log
than any man in the country.

During the period of his growth into youth he spent much of his time in
reading, talking, and, after a fashion, making speeches. He also wrote
some. His political writings won great admiration from his neighbors.
He occasionally wrote satires which, while not refined, were very
stinging. This would not be worth mentioning were it not for the fact
that it shows that from boyhood he knew the force of this formidable
weapon which later he used with so much skill. The country store
furnished the frontier substitute for the club, and there the men were
wont to congregate. It is needless to say that young Lincoln was the
life of the gatherings, being an expert in the telling of a humorous
story and having always a plentiful supply. His speech-making proved so
attractive that his father was forced to forbid him to practise it
during working hours because the men would always leave their work to
listen to him.

During these years he had no regular employment, but did odd jobs
wherever he got a chance. At one time, for example, he worked on a
ferryboat for the munificent wages of thirty-seven and one half cents a
day.

When sixteen years old, Lincoln had his first lesson in oratory. He
attended court at Boonville, county seat of Warwick County and heard a
case in which one of the aristocratic Breckenridges of Kentucky was
attorney for the defense. The power of his oratory was a revelation to
the lad. At its conclusion the awkward, ill-dressed, bashful but
enthusiastic young Lincoln pressed forward to offer his congratulations
and thanks to the eloquent lawyer, who haughtily brushed by him without
accepting the proffered hand. In later years the men met again, this
time in Washington City, in the white house. The president reminded
Breckenridge of the incident which the latter had no desire to recall.

When about nineteen years old, he made his first voyage down the Ohio
and Mississippi rivers. Two incidents are worth recording of this trip.
The purpose was to find, in New Orleans, a market for produce, which
was simply floated down stream on a flat-boat. There was, of course, a
row-boat for tender. The crew consisted of himself and young Gentry,
son of his employer.

Near Baton Rouge they had tied up for the night in accordance with the
custom of flat-boat navigation. During the night they were awakened by
a gang of seven ruffian negroes who had come aboard to loot the stuff.
Lincoln shouted "Who's there?" Receiving no reply he seized a handspike
and knocked over the first, second, third, and fourth in turn, when the
remaining three took to the woods. The two northerners pursued them a
short distance, then returned, loosed their craft and floated safely to
their destination.

It was on this trip that Lincoln earned his first dollar, as he in
after years related to William H. Seward:

"... A steamer was going down the river. We have, you know, no wharves
on the western streams, and the custom was, if passengers were at any
of the landings, they were to go out in a boat, the steamer stopping
and taking them on board.... Two men with trunks came down to the shore
in carriages, and looking at the different boats, singled out mine, and
asked, 'Who owns this?' I modestly answered, 'I do.' 'Will you take us
and our trunks out to the steamer?' 'Certainly.'... The trunks were put
in my boat, the passengers seated themselves on them, and I sculled
them out to the steamer. They got on board, and I lifted the trunks and
put them on the deck. The steamer was about to put on steam again, when
I called out: 'You have forgotten to pay me.' Each of them took from
his pocket a silver half dollar and threw it on the bottom of my boat.
I could scarcely believe my eyes as I picked up the money. You may
think it was a very little thing, and in these days it seems to me like
a trifle, but it was a most important incident in my life. I could
scarcely credit that I, a poor boy, had earned a dollar in less than a
day; that by honest work I had earned a dollar. I was a more hopeful
and thoughtful boy from that time."

The goods were sold profitably at New Orleans and the return trip was
made by steamboat. This was about twenty years after Fulton's first
voyage from New York to Albany, which required seven days. Steamboats
had been put on the Ohio and Mississippi rivers, but these crafts were
of primitive construction--awkward as to shape and slow as to speed.
The frequency of boiler explosions was proverbial for many years. The
lads, Gentry and Lincoln, returned home duly and the employer was well
satisfied with the results of the expedition.

In 1830 the epidemic "milk sick" reappeared in Indiana, and Thomas
Lincoln had a pardonable desire to get out of the country. Illinois was
at that time settling up rapidly and there were glowing accounts of its
desirableness. Thomas Lincoln's decision to move on to the new land of
promise was reasonable. He sold out and started with his family and
household goods to his new destination. The time of year was March,
just when the frost is coming out of the ground so that the mud is
apparently bottomless. The author will not attempt to describe it, for
he has in boyhood seen it many times and knows it to be indescribable.
It was Abe's duty to drive the four yoke of oxen, a task which must
have strained even his patience.

They settled in Macon County, near Decatur. There the son faithfully
worked with his father until the family was fairly settled, then
started out in life for himself. For he had now reached the age of
twenty-one. As he had passed through the periods of childhood and
youth, and was on the threshold of manhood, it is right and fitting to
receive at this point the testimony of Sally Bush, his stepmother:

"Abe was a good boy, and I can say what scarcely one woman--a mother--
can say in a thousand: Abe never gave me a cross word or look, and
never refused, in fact or appearance, to do anything I requested him. I
never gave him a cross word in all my life.... He was a dutiful son to
me always. I think he loved me truly. I had a son John who was raised
with Abe. Both were good boys; but I must say, both being now dead,
that Abe was the best boy I ever saw, or expect to see."

These words of praise redound to the honor of the speaker equally with
that of her illustrious stepson.

Lincoln came into the estate of manhood morally clean. He had formed no
habits that would cause years of struggle to overcome, he had committed
no deed that would bring the blush of shame to his cheek, he was as
free from vice as from crime. He was not profane, he had never tasted
liquor, he was no brawler, he never gambled, he was honest and
truthful. On the other hand, he had a genius for making friends, he was
the center of every social circle, he was a good talker and a close
reasoner. Without a thought of the great responsibilities awaiting him,
he had thus far fitted himself well by his faithfulness in such duties
as fell to him.

CHAPTER V.

SECOND JOURNEY TO NEW ORLEANS.

The first winter in Illinois, 1830-31, was one of those epochal seasons
which come to all communities. It is remembered by "the oldest
inhabitant" to this day for the extraordinary amount of snow that fell.
There is little doing in such a community during any winter; but in
such a winter as that there was practically nothing doing. Lincoln
always held himself ready to accept any opportunity for work, but there
was no opening that winter. The only thing he accomplished was what he
did every winter and every summer of his life: namely, he made many
friends.

When spring opened, Denton Offutt decided to send a cargo of
merchandise down to New Orleans. Hearing that Lincoln, John Hanks, and
John Johnston were "likely boys," he employed them to take charge of
the enterprise. Their pay was to be fifty cents a day and "found," and,
if the enterprise proved successful, an additional sum of twenty
dollars. Lincoln said that none of them had ever seen so much money at
one time, and they were glad to accept the offer.

Two events occurred during this trip which are of sufficient interest
to bear narration.

The boat with its cargo had been set afloat in the Sangamon River at
Springfield. All went well until, at New Salem, they came to a mill dam
where, in spite of the fact that the water was high, owing to the
spring floods, the boat stuck. Lincoln rolled his trousers "five feet
more or less" up his long, lank legs, waded out to the boat, and got
the bow over the dam. Then, without waiting to bail the water out, he
bored a hole in the bottom and let it run out. He constructed a machine
which lifted and pushed the boat over the obstruction, and thus their
voyage was quickly resumed. Many years later, when he was a practising
lawyer, he whittled out a model of his invention and had it patented.
The model may to-day be seen in the patent office at Washington. The
patent brought him no fortune, but it is an interesting relic.

This incident is of itself entirely unimportant. It is narrated here
solely because it illustrates one trait of the man--his ingenuity. He
had remarkable fertility in devising ways and means of getting out of
unexpected difficulties. When, in 1860, the Ship of State seemed like
to run aground hopelessly, it was his determination and ingenuity that
averted total wreck. As in his youth he saved the flatboat, so in his
mature years he saved the nation.

The other event was that at New Orleans, where he saw with his own eyes
some of the horrors of slavery. He never could tolerate a moral wrong.
At a time when drinking was almost universal, he was a total abstainer.
Though born in a slave state, he had an earnest and growing repugnance
to slavery. Still, up to this time he had never seen much of its
workings. At this time he saw a slave market--the auctioning off of
human beings.

The details of this auction were so coarse and vile that it is
impossible to defile these pages with an accurate and faithful
description. Lincoln saw it all. He saw a beautiful mulatto girl
exhibited like a race-horse, her "points" dwelt on, one by one, in
order, as the auctioneer said, that "bidders might satisfy themselves
whether the article they were offering to buy was sound or not." One of
his companions justly said slavery ran the iron into him then and
there. His soul was stirred with a righteous indignation. Turning to
the others he exclaimed with a solemn oath: "Boys, if ever I get a
chance to hit that thing [slavery] I'll hit it hard!"

He bided his time. One-third of a century later he had the chance to
hit that thing. He redeemed his oath. He hit it hard.

CHAPTER VI.

DESULTORY EMPLOYMENTS.

Upon the arrival of the Lincoln family in Illinois, they had the few
tools which would be considered almost necessary to every frontiersman:
namely, a common ax, broad-ax, hand-saw, whip-saw. The mauls and wedges
were of wood and were made by each workman for himself. To this stock
of tools may also be added a small supply of nails brought from
Indiana, for at that period nails were very expensive and used with the
strictest economy. By means of pegs and other devices people managed to
get along without them.

When Abraham Lincoln went to New Salem it was (like all frontier towns)
a promising place. It grew until it had the enormous population of
about one hundred people, housed--or log-cabined--in fifteen primitive
structures. The tributary country was not very important in a
commercial sense. To this population no less than four general stores--
that is, stores containing nearly everything that would be needed in
that community--offered their wares.

The town flourished, at least it lived, about through the period that
Lincoln dwelt there, after which it disappeared.

Lincoln was ready to take any work that would get him a living. A
neighbor advised him to make use of his great strength in the work of a
blacksmith. He seriously thought of learning the trade, but was,
fortunately for the country, diverted from doing so.

The success of the expedition to New Orleans had won the admiration of
his employer, Denton Offutt, and he now offered Lincoln a clerkship in
his prospective store. The offer was accepted partly because it gave
him some time to read, and it was here that he came to know the two
great poets, Burns and Shakespeare.

Offutt's admiration of the young clerk did him credit, but his voluble
expression of it was not judicious. He bragged that Lincoln was smart
enough to be president, and that he could run faster, jump higher,
throw farther, and "wrastle" better than any man in the country. In the
neighborhood there was a gang of rowdies, kind at heart but very rough,
known as "the Clary's Grove boys." They took the boasting of Offutt as
a direct challenge to themselves and eagerly accepted it. So they put
up a giant by the name of Jack Armstrong as their champion and arranged
a "wrastling" match. All went indifferently for a while until Lincoln
seemed to be getting the better of his antagonist, when the "boys"
crowded in and interfered while Armstrong attempted a foul. Instantly
Lincoln was furious. Putting forth all his strength he lifted Jack up
and shook him as a terrier shakes a rat. The crowd, in their turn,
became angry and set out to mob him. He backed up against a wall and in
hot indignation awaited the onset. Armstrong was the first to recover
his good sense. Exclaiming, "Boys, Abe Lincoln's the best fellow that
ever broke into the settlement," he held out his hand to Lincoln who
received it with perfect good nature. From that day these boys never
lost their admiration for him. He was their hero. From that day, too,
he became the permanent umpire, the general peacemaker of the region.
His good nature, his self-command, and his manifest fairness placed his
decisions beyond question. His popularity was established once for all
in the entire community.

There are some, anecdotes connected with his work in the store which
are worth preserving because they illustrate traits of his character.
He once sold a half pound of tea to a customer. The next morning as he
was tidying up the store he saw, by the weights which remained in the
scales, that he had inadvertently given her four, instead of eight,
ounces. He instantly weighed out the balance and carried it to her, not
waiting for his breakfast.

At another time when he counted up his cash at night he discovered that
he had charged a customer an excess of six and a quarter cents. He
closed up the store at once and walked to the home of the customer, and
returned the money. It was such things as these, in little matters as
well as great, that gave him the nickname of "honest Abe" which, to his
honor be it said, clung to him through life.

One incident illustrates his chivalry. While he was waiting upon some
women, a ruffian came into the store using vulgar language. Lincoln
asked him to desist, but he became more abusive than ever. After the
women had gone, Lincoln took him out of the store, threw him on the
ground, rubbed smartweed in his face and eyes until he howled for
mercy, and then he gave him a lecture which did him more practical good
than a volume of Chesterfield's letters.

Some time after Offutt's store had "winked out," while Lincoln was
looking for employment there came a chance to buy one half interest in
a store, the other half being owned by an idle, dissolute fellow named
Berry who ultimately drank himself into his grave. Later, another
opening came in the following way: the store of one Radford had been
wrecked by the horse-play of some ruffians, and the lot was bought by
Mr. Greene for four hundred dollars. He employed Lincoln to make an
invoice of the goods and he in turn offered Greene two hundred and
fifty dollars for the bargain and the offer was accepted. But even that
was not the last investment. The fourth and only remaining store in the
hamlet was owned by one Rutledge. This also was bought out by the firm
of Berry & Lincoln. Thus they came to have the monopoly of the
mercantile business in the hamlet of New Salem.

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