The life of Abraham Lincoln for young folks, told in words of one syllable

Chapter I

THE BABE OF THE LOG CABIN AND HIS KIN • • -r . , , , 5

CHAPTER n.

THE NEW HOME AM) IHK FIRST OKIE . . . . . . , I?

CHAPTER HI.

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 ...... JO

• •

CHAPTER VI.

LINCOLN AND DOUGLAS .......#,, 53

CHAPTER VII.

THE PEOPLE ASK LINCOLN TO PE THEIR ['RESIDENT ...... 6?

COXTEXTS

CHAPTER VIII.

I\ THE PRE'.rOENTIAI. CHAIR ; THE CIVIL WAR BEGINS

CHAPTER IX.

EARLY BATTLES OF THE WAR

• •

CHAPTER X.

GRANT WINS IN THE WEST, AND FARRAGUT AT NEW ORLEANS

CHAPTER XI.

ANTIETAM, XICKSBURG, GETTYSBURG

CHAPTER XII.

CHATTANOOGA, CHICKAMAUGA, LOOKOUT MOUNTAIN. LINCOLN'S GETTYSBURG SPEECH

CHAPTER XIII.

GRANT IN THE EAST ; LINCOLN CHOSEN FOR SECOND TERM

CHAPTER XIV.

RETURN OF PEACE; LINCOLN SHOT I HIS BURIAL AT SPRINGFIELD

THE LIFE OF

ABRAHAM LINCOLN

N

CHAPTER I.

THE. BABE OF THE LOG CABIN AND HIS KIN.

EAR 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 m A-mer-i-ca in 1618. They came from Knglancl 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 lonor 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 Tho-mas 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 Enor-land with e-lev-en chil-dren. One son of Georore had great love for the woods, the song of the birds and camp life. He was Dan-iel Boone, the great

hun-ter.

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.

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

DANIEL BOONE.

Here he met the sweet 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-dement at a spot to which he gave the name of Boonsbor-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 orround.

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

CABIN IN WHICH ABRAHAM LINCOLN WAS BORN.

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 In-di-an'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 Lincolns 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 Lincoln, II, first saw the light.

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 LIFE OF ABRAHAM LINCOI.N 11

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 m 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-lm'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 loij-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 river. 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 storehouse, and went off a score of miles through the woods to Pifj-eon Creek. He found the soil all he thouorht 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 rifles brought down, cooking it by the camp fire. From time to time thev had to ford or swim streams. They were glad that no rain fell in all their long route.

i

-rftv

LITTLE A.BE'S GIFT TO A SOLDIER.

ON THE WAY TO INDIANA.

Sa-rah and A-bra-ham thought it was nice to spend weeks in the free, wild hfe of the woods. A-corns and wal-nuts they found, and Hsh came up when thev put a

16 THE LIFE OF ABRAHAM LIXCOLX

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 timber-land a mile and a half east of what is now Gen-tryville, 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 gristmill, 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 eiorhth vear, tall for his aore, 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

ON THF STUMP WITH nOliniA.S did much work. He knew the use of the axe, the wedge, and the maul, and with these he found out how to spht rails from logs drawn out of the woods. To clear the land so that they could plant corn to feed the fam-ily, and hew tmi-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.

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 going 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 Hfe.

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 come to them. It came, also, even 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.

GOING UP TO THE LOFT.

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 Elkins 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.

THE LIFE OF ABRAHAM LINCOLA

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 1 1 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 also a co-py of iE-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 o-reat 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 " figure" by fire light.

One day some one told A-bra-ham that Mr. Craw-ford, a man whose home was miles ofi", 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 " puU-ing fod-der" to pay for the harm which had come to the book.

It was the \vay 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 " water, tend babies, do all sorts of chores, mow, reap, sow, plough, split rails, and then give what he earned to his fa-ther.

THE YOrXG RAIL-SPLITTER.

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 cou-ld 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.

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 halfdol-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 Ht-tle work. He had thought "two or three bits" would be a-bout rieht. 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 sai-lors got some blows, they at last drove off the negroes, " cut cable," " weighed anchor," and left. They went past Nat-chez, an old town set-tied 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

THE LIFE OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN.

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

LINCOLN S HOMK IN GF.NTRYVILLE.

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 places, tribes and climes to which Lin-coln had not oriv-en much thouQrht. 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 a<>e 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 \et 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."

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, 111. 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 rivers 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 mmd to see his folks to their new home since go they would.

Then came an auc-tion, or, as they call-ed it, a "vandoo." The corn was sold ; the farm, hogs, house goods, all went to those folks who would ofive 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 larg^e 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 of the bright boat-man.

THE FLAT-BOAT AND ITS CREW ON THE WAY TO NEW ORLEANS.

When first in New Or-leans, though Lin-cohi had seen slaves, he had not known what a slave sale was like. This time he saw one and it made him sick.