[Illustration: THE RESCUE. ]

IN THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN

A Tale of the Tunker Schoolmasterand the Times of Black Hawk

BY

HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH

AUTHOR OF THE LOG SCHOOL-HOUSE ON THE COLUMBIA

Let us have faith that right makes might, andin that faith as to the end dare to do our duty. PRESIDENT LINCOLN. 

_ILLUSTRATED_

[Illustration]

NINTH EDITION

NEW YORKD. APPLETON AND COMPANY1898

COPYRIGHT, 1892, BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. 

PREFACE. 

Abraham Lincoln has become the typical character of Americaninstitutions, and it is the purpose of this book, which is a truepicture in a framework of fiction, to show how that character, which socommanded the hearts and the confidence of men, was formed. He who inyouth unselfishly seeks the good of others, without fear or favor, maybe ridiculed, but he makes for himself a character fit to govern others, and one that the people will one day need and honor. The secret ofAbraham Lincoln's success was the "faith that right makes might. " Thisprinciple the book seeks by abundant story-telling to illustrate andmake clear. 

In this volume, as in the "Log School-House on the Columbia, " theadventures of a pioneer school-master are made to represent the earlyhistory of a newly settled country. The "Log School-House on theColumbia" gave a view of the early history of Oregon and Washington. This volume collects many of the Indian romances and cabin tales of theearly settlers of Illinois, and pictures the hardships and manlystruggles of one who by force of early character made himself thegreatest of representative Americans. 

The character of the Dunkard, or Tunker, as a wandering school-master, may be new to many readers. Such missionaries of the forests andprairies have now for the most part disappeared, but they did a usefulwork among the pioneer settlements on the Ohio and Illinois Rivers. Inthis case we present him as a disciple of Pestalozzi and a friend ofFroebel, and as one who brings the German methods of story-telling intohis work. 

"Was there ever so good an Indian as Umatilla?" asks an accomplishedreviewer of the "Log School-House on the Columbia. " The chief whoseheroic death in the grave of his son is recorded in that volume did notreceive the full measure of credit for his devotion, for he was reallyburied _alive_ in the grave of his boy. A like question may be asked inregard to the father of Waubeno in this volume. We give the story verymuch as Black Hawk himself related it. In Drake's History of the Indianswe find it related in the following manner:

"It is related by Black Hawk, in his Life, that some time before the Warof 1812 one of the Indians had killed a Frenchman at Prairie des Chiens. 'The British soon after took him prisoner, and said they would shoot himnext day. His family were encamped a short distance below the mouth ofthe Ouisconsin. He begged permission to go and see them that night, ashe was _to die the next day_. They permitted him to go, after promisingto return the next morning by sunrise. He visited his family, whichconsisted of a wife and six children. I can not describe their meetingand parting to be understood by the whites, as it appears that theirfeelings are acted upon by certain rules laid down by their_preachers_!--while ours are governed only by the monitor within us. Heparted from his wife and children, hurried through the prairie to thefort, and arrived in time. The soldiers were ready, and immediately_marched out and shot him down_!' If this were not cold-blooded, deliberate murder on the part of the whites I have no conception of whatconstitutes that crime. What were the circumstances of the murder we arenot informed; but whatever they may have been, they can not excuse astill greater barbarity. "

It belongs, like the story of so-called Umatilla in the "LogSchool-House on the Columbia, " to a series of great legends of Indiancharacter which the poet's pen and the artist's brush would do well toperpetuate. The examples of Indians who have valued honor more than lifeare many, and it is a pleasing duty to picture such scenes of nativeworth, as true to the spirit of the past. 

We have in this volume, as in the former book, freely mingled history, tradition, and fiction, but we believe that we have in no case beenuntrue to the fact and spirit of the times we picture, and we haveemployed fiction chiefly as a framework to bring what is real morevividly into view. We have employed the interpretive imagination merelyfor narrative purposes. Nearly all that has distinctive worth in thevolume is substantially true to history, tradition, and the generalspirit of old times in the Illinois, the Sangamon, and the Chicago; tothe character of the "jolly old pedagogue long ago"; and to thatmarvelous man who accepted in youth the lesson of lessons, that "rightmakes might. "

28 WORCHESTER STREET, BOSTON, MASS. 

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I. --INTRODUCED 1

II. --THOMAS LINCOLN'S FAMILY STORIES 17

III. --THE OLD BLACKSMITH'S SHOP AND THE MERRY STORY-TELLERS 33

IV. --A BOY WITH A HEART 55

V. --JASPER COBBLES FOR AUNT OLIVE. --HER QUEER STORIES 62

VI. --JASPER GIVES AN ACCOUNT OF HIS VISIT TO BLACK HAWK. --AUNTINDIANA'S WIG 75

VII. --THE EXAMINATION AT CRAWFORD'S SCHOOL 87

VIII. --THE PARABLE PREACHES IN THE WILDERNESS 100

IX. --AUNT INDIANA'S PROPHECIES 108

X. --THE INDIAN RUNNER 115

XI. --THE CABIN NEAR CHICAGO 122

XII. --THE WHITE INDIAN OF CHICAGO 133

XIII. --LAFAYETTE AT KASKASKIA. --THE STATELY MINUET 140

XIV. --WAUBENO AND YOUNG LINCOLN 156

XV. --THE DEBATING SCHOOL 166

XVI. --THE SCHOOL THAT MADE LINCOLN PRESIDENT 177

XVII. --THOMAS LINCOLN MOVES 184

XVIII. --MAIN-POGUE 196

XIX. --THE FOREST COLLEGE 202

XX. --MAKING LINCOLN A "SON OF MALTA" 214

XXI. --PRAIRIE ISLAND 218

XXII. --THE INDIAN PLOT 229

XXIII. --FOR LINCOLN'S SAKE 236

XXIV. --"OUR LINCOLN IS THE MAN" 251

XXV. --AT THE LAST 265

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

 FACING PAGE

The rescue _Frontispiece_

The Tunker school-master's class in manners 14

Lines written by Lincoln on the leaf of his school-book 22

Story-telling at the smithy 35

The home of Abraham Lincoln when in his tenth year 55

Aunt Olive's wedding 68

Abraham as a peace-maker 90

Black Hawk tells the story of Waubeno 118

A queer place to write poetry 160

Sarah Bush Lincoln, Abraham Lincoln's step-mother 217

The approach of the mysterious Indian 240

The Lincoln family record 250

Abraham Lincoln, the man 262

IN THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN. 

CHAPTER I. 

INTRODUCED. 

"Boy, are there any schools in these parts?"

"Crawford's. "

"And who, my boy, is Crawford?"

"The schoolmaster, don't yer know? He's great on thrashing--onthrashing--and--and he knows everything. Everybody in these parts hasheard of Crawford. He's great. "

"That is all very extraordinary. 'Great on thrashing, and knowseverything. ' Very extraordinary! Do you raise much wheat in theseparts?"

"He don't thrash wheat, mister. Old Dennis and young Dennis do that withtheir thrashing-flails. "

"But what does he thrash, my boy--what does he thrash?"

"He just thrashes boys, don't you know. "

"Extraordinary--very extraordinary. He thrashes boys. "

"And teaches 'em their manners. He teaches manners, Crawford does. Didn't you never hear of Crawford? You must be a stranger in theseparts. "

"Yes, I am a stranger in Indiana. I have been following the timberalong the creek, and looking out on the prairie islands. This is abeautiful country. Nature has covered it with grasses and flowers, andthe bees will swarm here some day; I see them now; the air is all brightwith them, my boy. "

"I don't see any bees; it isn't the time of year for 'em. Do youcobble?"

"You don't quite understand me. I was speaking spiritually. Yes, Icobble to pay my way. Yes, my boy. "

"Do you preach?"

"Yes, and teach the higher branches--like Crawford. He teaches thehigher branches, does he not?"

"Don't make any odds where he gets 'em. I didn't know that he used thehigher branches. He just cuts a stick anywhere, and goes at 'em, hedoes. "

"You do not comprehend me, my boy. I teach the higher branches in newschools--Latin and singing. I do not use the higher branches of thetrees. "

"Latin! Then you must be a _wizard_. "

"No, no, my boy. I am one of the Brethren--called. My new name isJasper. I chose that name because I needed polishing. Do you see? Well, the Lord is doing his work, polishing me, and I shall shine by and by. 'They that turn many to righteousness shall shine like the stars ofheaven. ' They call me the Parable. "

"Then you be a Tunker?"

"I am one of the wandering Brethren that they call 'Tunkers. '"

"You preach for nothin'? They do. "

"Yes, my boy; the Word is free. "

"Then who pays you?"

"My soul. "

"And you teach for nothin', too, do ye?"

"Yes, my boy. Knowledge is free. "

"Then who pays you?"

"It all comes back to me. He that teaches is taught. "

"You don't cobble for nothin', do ye?"

"Yes--I cobble to pay my way. I am a wayfaring man, wandering to and froin the wilderness of the world. "

"You cobble to pay yourself for teachin' and preachin'! Why don't youmake _them_ pay you? I shouldn't think that you would want to preach andteach and cobble all for nothin', and travel, and travel, and sleepanywhere. Father will be proper glad to see you--and mother; we are gladto see near upon anybody. I suppose that you will hold forth down toCrawford's; in the log meetin'-'ouse, or in the school-'ouse, may be, orunder the great trees over Nancy Lincoln's grave. Elkins he preachedthere, and the circuit-rider. "

"If I follow the timber, I will come to Crawford's, my boy?"

"Yes, mister. You'll come to the school-'ouse, and the meetin'-'ouse. The school-'ouse has a low-down roof and a big chimney. Crawford will beright glad to see you, won't he now? They are great on spellin' downthere--have spellin'-matches, and all the people come from far and nearto hear 'em spell--hundreds of 'em. Link--he's the head speller--hecould spell down anybody. It is the greatest school in all these herenew parts. You will have a right good time down there; they'll treat yeright well. "

"Good, my boy; you speak kindly. I shall have a good time, if the peoplehave ears. "

"Ears! They've all got ears--just like other folks. You didn't thinkthat they didn't have any ears, did ye?"

"I mean ears for the truth. I must travel on. I am glad that I met you, my lad. Tell your father and mother that old Jasper the Parable has goneby, and that he has a message for them in his heart. God bless you, myboy--God bless you! You are a little rude in your speech, but you meanwell. "

The man went on, following the trail along the great trees of PigeonCreek, and the boy stood looking after him. The water rippled under thetrees, and afar lay the open prairie, like a great sun sea. The air wascool, but the light of spring was in it, and the blue-birds flutedblithely among the budding trees. 

As he passed along amid these new scenes, a singular figure appeared inthe way. It was a woman in a linsey-woolsey dress, corn sun-bonnet, anda huge cane. She looked at the Tunker suspiciously, yet seemed to retardher steps that he might overtake her. 

"My good woman, " said the latter, coming up to her, "I am not sure of myway. "

"Well, I am. "

"I wish to go to the Pigeon Creek--settlement--"

"Then you ought to have kept the way when you had it. "

"But, my good woman, I am a stranger in these parts. A boy has directedme, but I feel uncertain. What do you do when you lose your way?"

"I don't lose it. "

"But if you were--"

"I'd just turn to the right, and keep right straight ahead till I foundit. "

"True, true; but this is a new country to me. I am one of the Brethren. "

"Ye be, be ye? I thought you were one of them land agents. One of theBrethren. I'm proper glad. Who were you lookin' for?"

"Crawford's school. "

"The college? Am you're goin' there? I go over there sometimes to seehim wallop the boys. We must all have discipline in life, you know, andit is best to begin with the young. Crawford does. They say thatCrawford teaches clear to the rule of three, whatever that may be. Oneadded to one is more than one, according to the Scriptur'; now isn't it?One added to one is almost three. Is that what they call highmathematics? I never got further than the multiplication-table, though Iam a friend to education. My name is Olive Eastman. What's yourn?"

"Jasper. "

"You don't? One of the old patriarchs, like. Well, I live this way--yougo _that_. 'Tain't more'n half a mile to Crawford's--close to themeetin'-'ouse. Mebby you'll preach there, and I'll hear ye. Glad I metye now, and to see who you be. They call me Aunt Olive sometimes, andsometimes Aunt Indiana. I settled Pigeon Creek, or husband and I did. Hewas kind o' weakly; he's gone now, and I live all alone. I'd be glad tohave you come over and preach at the 'ouse, though I might not believe aword on't. I'm a Methody; most people are Baptist down here, like theLinkuns, but we is all ready to listen to a Tunker. People are onlyresponsible for what they know; and there are some good people among theTunkers, I've hern tell. Now don't go off into some by-path into thewoods. Tom Lincoln he see a bear there the other day, but he wouldn't'a' shot it if it had been an elephant with tusks of ivory and gold. Some folks haven't no calculation. The Lincolns hain't. Good-by. "

The Tunker was a middle-aged man of probably forty-five or more years. He had a benevolent face, large, sympathetic eyes, and a patriarchalbeard. His garments had hooks instead of buttons. He carried a leatherbag in which were a Bible and a hymn-book, some German works ofZinzendorf, and his cobbling-tools. We can not wonder that the boystared after him. He would have looked oddly anywhere. 

My reader may not know who a Tunker was, as our wandering schoolmasterwas called. A Tunker, or Dunker, was one of a sect of German Baptists orQuakers, who were formerly very numerous in Pennsylvania and Ohio. Theorder numbered at one time some thirty thousand souls. They calledthemselves Brethren, but were commonly known as "Tunkards, " or"Dunkards, " from a German word meaning to _dip_. At their baptisms theydip the body of a convert three times; and so in their own land theyreceived the name of Tunkers, or _dippers_, and this name followed theminto Holland and to America. A large number of the Brethren settled inGermantown, Pa. Thence they wandered into Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois, preaching and teaching and doing useful work. Like the Quakers, theyhave now nearly disappeared. 

Their doctrines were peculiar, but their lives were unselfish and pure, and their influence blameless. They believed in being led by the innerlight; that the soul was a seat of divine and spiritual authority, andthat the Spirit came to them as a direct revelation. They did not eatmeat or drink wine. They washed each other's feet after their religiousservices, wore their beards long, and gave themselves new names thatthey might not be tempted by any worldly ambitions or rivalries. Theythought it wrong to take oaths, to hold slaves, or to treat the Indiansdifferently from other men. They would receive no payment for preaching, but held that it was the duty of all men to live by what they earned bytheir own labor. They traveled wherever they felt moved to go by theinward monitor. They were a peculiar people, but the prairie States owemuch that was good to their influence. The new settlers were usuallyglad to see the old Tunker when he appeared among them, and to receivehis message, and women and children felt the loss of this benevolentsympathy when he went away. He established no church, yet all peoplebelieved in his sincerity, and most people listened to him with respectand reverence. The sect closely resembled the old Jewish order of theEssenes, except that they did not wear the garment of white, but loosegarments without buttons. 

The scene of the Tunker's journey was in Spencer County, Indiana, nearthe present town of Gentryville. This county was rapidly being occupiedby immigrants, and it was to this new people that Jasper the Parablebelieved himself to be guided by the monitor within. 

Early in the afternoon he passed several clearings and cabins, where hestopped to receive directions to the school-house and meeting-house. 

The country was one vast wilderness. For the most part it was coveredwith gigantic trees, though here and there a rich prairie opened out ofthe timber. There were oaks gray with centuries, and elms jacketed withmoss, in whose high boughs the orioles in summer builded and sang, andunder which the bluebells grew. There were black-walnut forests inplaces, with timber almost as hard as horn. The woods in many placeswere open, like colonnades, and carpeted with green moss. There were norestrictions of law here, or very few. One might pitch his tentanywhere, and live where he pleased. The land, as a rule, was common. 

Jasper came at last to a clearing with a rude cabin, near which was athree-faced camp, as a house of poles with one open side was called. Spencer County was near the Kentucky border, and the climate was so warmthat a family could live there in a house of poles in comfort for mostof the year. 

As Jasper the Parable came up to the log-house, which had neither hingeddoors nor glass windows, a large, rough, good-humored-looking man cameout to the gate to meet him, and stood there leaning upon a lowgate-post. 

"Howdy, stranger?" said the hardy pioneer. "What brings you to theseparts--lookin' fer a place to settle down at?"

"No, my good friend--I'm obliged to you for speaking so kindly to awayfarer--peace be with you--I am looking for the school-house. Can youdirect me there?"

"I reckon. Then you be going to see the school? Good for ye. A greatschool that Crawford keeps. I've got a boy and a girl in that thereschool myself. The boy, if I do say it now, is the smartest fellow inall the country round--and the laziest. Smart at the top, but it don'tgo down. Runs all to larnin'. Just reads and studies about all the time, speaks pieces, and preaches on stumps, and makes poetry, and things. Idon't know what will ever become of him. He's a queer one. My name isLinkem" (Lincoln)--"Thomas Linkem. What's yourn?"

"They call me Jasper the Parable--that is my new name. I'm one of theBrethren. No offense, I hope--just one of the Brethren. "

"Oh, you be--a Tunker. Well, we'll all be proper glad to see you downhere. I come from Kentuck. Where did you come from?"

"From Pennsylvania, here. I was born in Germany. "

"Sho, you did? From Pennsylvany! And how far are you going?"

"I'm going to meet Black Hawk. My good friend, I stop and preach andteach and cobble along the way. "

"What! Black Hawk, the chief? Is it him you're goin' to see? You're anIndian agent, perhaps, travelin' for the State or the fur-traders?"

"No, I am not a trader of any kind. I am going to meet Black Hawk atRock River. He has promised me a young Indian guide, who will show meall these paths and act as an interpreter, and gain for me a passageamong all the Indian tribes. I have met Black Hawk before. "

"You've been to Illinois, have ye? Glad to hear ye say so. What kind ofa kentry is that, now? I've sometimes thought of going there myself. Itain't over-healthy here. Say, stranger, come back and stop with us afteryou've been to the school. I haven't any great accommodations, as yousee, but I will do the best I can for you, and it will make my wife andAbe and the gal proper glad to have a talk with a preacher. Ye will, won't ye, now? Say yes. "

"Yes, yes, if it is so ordered, friend. Thank you, yes. I feel moved tosay that I will come back. You are very good, my friend. "

"Yes, yes, come back and see us all. I won't detain ye any longer now. You see that there openin'? Well, you just follow that path as thecrow flies, and you'll come to the school-'ouse. Good-day, stranger--good-day. "

It was early spring, a season always beautiful in southern Indiana. Thebuds were swelling; the woodpeckers were tapping the old trees, and themigrating birds were returning to their old homes in the tree-tops. Jasper went along singing, for his heart was happy, and he felt thecheerful influence of the vernal air. The birds to him were prophets andchoirs, and the murmur of the south winds in the trees was a sermon. Aright and receptive spirit sees good in everything, and so Jasper sangas he walked along the footpath. 

The school-house came into view. It was built of round logs, and wasscarcely higher than a tall man's head. The chimney was large, and wasconstructed of poles and clay, and the floor and furniture were made ofpuncheons, as split logs were called. The windows consisted of roughslats and oiled paper. The door was open, and Jasper came up and stoodbefore it. How strange the new country all seemed to him!

The schoolmaster came to the door. He affected gentlemanly and almostcourtly manners, and bowed low. 

"Is this Mr. Crawford, may I ask?" said Jasper. 

"Andrew Crawford. And whom have I the honor of meeting?"

"My new name is Jasper. I am one of the Brethren. They call me theParable. I am on my way to Rock Island, Illinois, to meet Black Hawk, the chief, who has promised to assist me with a guide and interpreterfor my missionary journeys among the new settlements and the tribes. Ihave come, may it please you, to visit the school. I am a teachermyself. "

"You do us great honor, and I assure you that you are very welcome--verywelcome. Come in. "

The scholars stared, and presented a very strange appearance. The boyswere dressed in buckskin breeches and linsey-woolsey shirts, and thegirls in homespun gowns of most economical patterns. The furnitureseemed all pegs and puncheons. The one cheerful object in the room wasthe enormous fireplace. The pupils delighted to keep this fed with fuelin the chilly winter days, and the very ashes had cheerful suggestions. It was all ashes now, for the sun was high, and the spring falls warmand early in the forests of southern Indiana. 

It was past mid afternoon, and the slanting sun was glimmering in thetops of the gigantic forest-trees seen from the open door. 

"We have nearly completed the exercises of the day, " said Mr. Crawford. "I have yet to hear the spelling-class, and to conduct the exercises inmanners. I teach manners. Shall I go on in the usual way?"

"Yes, yes, may it please you--yes, in the usual way--in the usual way. You are very kind. "

"You do me great honor. --The class in spelling, " said Mr. Crawford, turning to the school. Five boys and girls stood up, and came to an openspace in front of the desk. The recitation of this class was somethingmost odd and amusing to Jasper, and so it would seem to a teacher ofto-day. 

"_Incompatibility_" said Mr. Crawford. "You may make your manners andspell _incompatibility_, Sarah. "

A tall girl with a high forehead and very short dress gave a modest andabashed glance at the wandering visitor, blushed, courtesied very low, and thus began the rhythmic exercise of spelling the word in theold-time way:

"I-n, in; there's your in. C-o-m, com, incom; there's your incom; incom. P-a-t, pat, compat, incompat; there's your incompat; incompat. I-, pati, compati, incompati; there's your incompati; incompati. B-i-l, bil; ibil, patibil, compatibil, incompatibil; there's your incompatibil;incompatibil. I-, bili, patibili, compatibili, incompatibili; there'syour incompatibili; incompatibili. T-y, ty, ity, bility, ibility, patibility, compatibility, incompatibility; there's yourincompatibility; _incompatibility_. "

The girl seemed dazed after this mazy effort. Mr. Crawford bowed, andJasper the Parable looked serene, and remarked, encouragingly:

"Extraordinary! I never heard a word spelled in that way. This is anage of wonders. One meets with strange things everywhere. I should thinkthat that girl would make a teacher one day; and the new country willsoon need teachers. The girl did well. "

"You do me great honor, " said Mr. Crawford, bowing like a courtier. "Iappreciate it, I assure you; I appreciate it, and thank you. I haveaimed to make my school the best in the country. Your commendationencourages me to hope that I have not failed. "

But these polite and generous compliments were exchanged a little toosoon. The next word that Mr. Crawford gave out from the "Speller" was_obliquity_. 

"Jason, make your manners and spell _obliquity_. Take your hands out ofyour pockets; that isn't manners. Take your hands out of your pocketsand spell _obliquity_. "

Jason was a tall lad, in a jean blouse and leather breeches. His hairwas tangled and his ankles were bare. He seemed to have a loss ofconfidence, but he bobbed his head for manners, and began to spell in avery loud voice, that had in it almost the sharpness of defiance. 

"O-b, ob; there's your ob; ob. " He made a leer. "L-i-k, lik, oblik;there's your oblik--"

"No, " said Mr. Crawford, with a look of vexation and disappointment. "Try again. "

Jason took a higher key of voice. 

"Wall, O-b, ob; there's your ob; ain't it? L-i-c-k, and there's yourlick--"

"Take your seat!" thundered Mr. Crawford. "I'll give you a _lick_ afterschool. Think of bringing obliquity upon the school in the presence ofa teacher from the Old World! Next!"

But the next pupil became lost in the mazes of the improved method ofspelling, and the class brought dishonor upon the really conscientiousand ambitious teacher. 

The exercise in manners partly redeemed the disaster. 

"Abraham Lincoln, stand up. "

A tall boy arose, and his head almost touched the ceiling. He wasdressed in a linsey-woolsey frock, with buckskin breeches which weremuch too short for him. His ankles were exposed, and his feet werepoorly covered. His face was dark and serious. He did not look like onewhom an unseen Power had chosen to control one day the destiny ofnations, to call a million men to arms, and to emancipate a race. 

"Abraham Lincoln, you may go out, and come in and be introduced. "

It required but a few steps to take the young giant out of the door. Hepresently returned, knocking. 

"James Sparrow, you may go to the door, " said Mr. Crawford. 

The boy arose, went to the door, and bowed very properly. 

"Good-afternoon, Mr. Lincoln. I am glad to see you. Come in. If itplease you, I will present you to my friends. "

Abraham entered, as in response to this courtly parrot-talk. 

"Mr. Crawford, may I have the honor of presenting to you my friendAbraham Lincoln?--Mr. Lincoln, Mr. Crawford. "

[Illustration: THE TUNKER SCHOOLMASTER'S CLASS IN MANNERS. ]

Mr. Crawford bowed slowly and condescendingly. Abraham was thenintroduced to each of the members of the school, and the exercise was avery creditable one, under the untoward circumstances. And this shall beour own introduction to one of the heroes of our story, and, followingthis odd introduction, we will here make our readers somewhat betteracquainted with Jasper the Parable. 

He was born in Thuringia, not far from the Baths of Liebenstein. Hisfather was a German, but his mother was of English descent, and he hadvisited England with her in his youth, and so spoke the English languagenaturally and perfectly. He had become an advocate of the plans ofPestalozzi, the father of common-school education, in his early life. One of the most intimate friends of his youth was Froebel, afterward thefounder of the kindergarten system of education. With Froebel he hadentered the famous regiment of Lützow; he had met Körner, and sang the"Wild Hunt of Lützow, " by Von Weber, as it came from the composer's pen, the song which is said to have driven Napoleon over the Rhine. He hadmarried, lost wife and children, become melancholy and despondent, andfinally fallen under the influence of the preaching of a Tunker, and hadtaken the resolution to give up himself entirely, his will and desires, and to live only for others, and to follow the spiritual impression, which he believed to be the Divine will. He was simple and sincere. Hisfriends had treated him ill on his becoming a Tunker, but he forgavethem all, and said: "You reject me from your hearts and homes. I will goto the new country, and perhaps I may find there a better place for usall. If I do, I will return to you and treat you as Joseph treated hisbrethren. You are oppressed; you have to bear arms for years. I am leftalone in the world. Something calls me over the sea. "

He lived near Marienthal, the Vale of Mary. It was a lovely place, andhis heart loved it and all the old German villages, with their songs andchildren's festivals, churches, and graves. He bade farewell to Froebel. "I am going to study life, " he said, "in the wilderness of the NewWorld. " He came to Pennsylvania, and met the Brethren there who had comefrom Germany, and then traveled with an Indian agent to Rock Island, Illinois, where he had met Black Hawk. Here he resolved to become atraveling teacher, preacher, and missionary, after the usages of hisorder, and he asked Black Hawk for an interpreter and guide. 

"Return to me in May, " said the chief, "and I will provide you with asnoble a son of the forest as ever breathed the air. "

He returned to Ohio, and was now on his way to visit the old chiefagain. 

The country was a wonder to him. Coming from middle Germany and theRhine lands, everything seemed vast and limitless. The prairies withtheir bluebells, the prairie islands with their giant trees, the foreststhat shaded the streams, were all like a legend, a fairy story, a dream. He admired the heroic spirit of the pioneers, and he took the Indians tohis heart. In this spirit he began to travel over the unbroken prairiesof Indiana and Illinois. 

CHAPTER II. 

THOMAS LINCOLN'S FAMILY STORIES. 

The red sun was glimmering through the leafless boughs of the great oakswhen Jasper again came to the gate of Thomas Lincoln's log cabin. Mr. Crawford had remained after school with the tall boy who had brought"obliquity" upon the spelling-class. Tradition reports that there was agreat rattling of leather breeches, and expostulations, and lamentationsat such solemn, private interviews. Mr. Crawford, who was "great onthrashing, " no doubt did his duty as he understood it at that privatesession at sundown. Sticks were plenty in those days, and the will touse them strong among most pioneer schoolmasters. 

Abraham Lincoln and his sister accompanied Jasper to the log-house. Theyheard the lusty cry for consideration and mercy in the log school-houseas they were going, and stopped to listen. Jasper did not approve ofthis rugged discipline. 

"I should not treat the boy in that way, " said he philosophically. 

"You wouldn't?" said Abraham. "Why? Crawford is a great teacher; heknows everything. He can cipher as far as the rule of three. "

"Yes, lad, but the true purpose of education is to form character. Feardoes not make true worth, but counterfeit character. If education failsto produce real character, it fails utterly. True education is a matterof the soul as much as of the mind. It should make a boy want to doright because it is the right thing to do right. Anything that fails toproduce character for its own sake, and not for a selfish reason, is amistake. But what am I doing--criticising? Now, that is wrong. I seemedto be talking with Froebel. Yes, Crawford is a great teacher, all thingsconsidered. He does well who does his best. You have a great school. Itis not like the old German schools, but you do well. "

Jasper began a discourse about Pestalozzi and that great thinker's viewsof universal education. But the words were lost on the air. The views ofPestalozzi were not much discussed in southern Indiana at this time, though the idea of common-school education prevailed everywhere. 

Thomas Lincoln stood at the gate awaiting the return of Jasper. 

"I'm proper glad that you've come back to see us all, " said he. "Wifehas been lookin' for ye. What did you think of the school? Great, isn'tit? That Crawford is a big man in these parts. They say he can cipher tothe rule of three, whatever that may be. Indiana is going to be great oneducation, in my opinion. "

He was right. Indiana, with an investment of some ten million of dollarsfor public education, and with an army of well-trained teachers, leadsthe middle West in the excellence of her schools. Her model schoolsystem, which to-day would delight a Pestalozzi or a Froebel, had itsrude beginning in schools like Crawford's. 

"Come, come in, " said Thomas Lincoln, and led the way into thelog-house. 

"This is my wife, " said he to Jasper. 

The woman had a serene and benevolent face. Her features were open andplain, but there was heart-life in them. It was a face that could havebeen molded only by a truly good heart. It was strong, long-suffering, sympathetic, and self-restrained. Her forehead was high and thoughtful, her eyes large and expressive, and her voice loving and cheerful. Jasperfelt at once that he was in the presence of a woman of decision ofcharacter. 

"Then you are a Tunker, " she said. "I am a Baptist, too, but not yourkind. But such things matter little if the heart is right. "

"You have well said, " answered Jasper. "The true life is in the soul. Weboth belong to the same kingdom, and shall have the same life and drinkfrom the same fountain and eat the same bread. Have you been here long?"

"Yes, " said Thomas Lincoln, "and we have seen some dark days. We livedin the half-faced camp out yonder when I first came here. My first wifedied of milk-sickness here. She was Abraham's mother. Ever heard of themilk-sickness, as the fever was called? It swept away a great many ofthe early inhabitants. Those were dark, dark days. I shall never forgetthem. "

"So your real mother is dead, " said Jasper to Abraham. 

"I try to be a mother to him, poor boy, " said Mrs. Lincoln. "Abraham isgood to me and to everybody; one of the best boys I ever knew, though Iought not to praise him to his face. He does the best he can. "

"Awful lazy. You didn't tell that, " said Thomas Lincoln; "all head andbooks. He is. I believe in tellin' the whole truth. "

"Oh, well, " said Mrs. Lincoln, "some persons work with their hands, andsome with their heads, and some with their hearts. Abraham's head isalways at work--he isn't like most other boys. And as far as hisheart--Well, I do love that boy, and I am his step-mother, too. He'salways been so good to me that I love to tell on't. His father, I'mthinkin', is rather hard on him sometimes. Abe's heart knows mine and Iknow his'n, and I couldn't think more on him if he was my own son. Hispoor mother sleeps out there under the great trees; but I mean to besuch a mother to him that he will never know no difference. "

"Yes, " said Thomas Lincoln, "Abraham does middlin' well, considerin'. But he does provoke me sometimes. He would provoke old Job himself. Why, he will take a book with him into the corn-field, and he reads andreads, and his head gets loose and goes off into the air, and he putsthe pumpkin-seeds in the wrong hills, like as not. He is great on theEnglish Reader. I'd just like for you to hear him recite poetry out ofthat book. He's great on poetry; writes it himself. But that isn'tneither here nor there. Come, preacher, we'll have some supper. "

The Tunker lifted his hand and said grace, after which the family satdown to the table. 

"We used to eat off a puncheon when we first came to these parts, " saidMr. Lincoln. "We had no beds, and we slept on a floor of pounded clay. My new wife brought all of this grand furniture to me. That beereaulooks extravagant--now don't it?--for poor folks, too. I sometimes thinkthat she ought to sell it. I am told that in a city place it would beworth as much as fifty dollars. "

There were indeed a few good articles of furniture in the house. 

The supper consisted of corn-bread of very rough meal, and of bacon, eggs, and coffee. 

"Do you smoke?" asked Mr. Lincoln, when the meal was over. 

"No, " said Jasper. "I have given up everything of that kind, luxuries, and even my own name. Let us talk about our experiences. There is nonews in the world like the news from the soul. A man's inner life andexperience are about all that is worth talking about. It is the kingthat makes the crown. "

But Thomas Lincoln was not a man of deep inward experiences andsubjective ideas, though his first wife had been such a person, andwould have delighted Jasper. Mr. Lincoln liked best to talk about hisfamily and the country, and was more interested in the slow news thatcame from the new settlements than in the revelations from a higherworld. His former wife, Abraham's mother, had been a mystic, but therewas little sentiment in him. 

"You said that you were going to meet Black Hawk, " said Mr. Lincoln. "Where do you expect to find him? He's everywhere, ain't he?"

"I am going to the Sac village at Rock Island. It is a long journey, butthe Voice tells me to go. "

"That is away across the Illinois, on the Mississippi River, isn't it?"

"Yes, the Sac village looks down on the Mississippi. It is a beautifulplace. The prairies spread around it like seas. I love to think of it. It commands a noble view. I do not wonder that the Indians love it, andmade it the burial-place of their race. I would love it myself. "

"You favor the Indians, do you?"

"Yes. All men are my brothers. The field is the world. I am going to tryto preach and teach among the Sacs and Foxes, as soon as I can find aninterpreter, and Black Hawk has promised me one. He has sent for him tocome down to Rock Island and meet me. He lives at Prairie du Chien, faraway in the north, I am told. "

"Don't you have any antipathy against the Indians, preacher?"

"No, none at all. Do you?"

"My father was murdered by an Indian. Let me tell you about it. Not thatI want to discourage you--you mean well; but I don't feel altogether asyou do about the red-skins, preacher. You and Abe would agree better onthe subject than you and I. Abe is tender-hearted--takes after hismother. "

Thomas Lincoln filled his pipe. "Abe, " as his oldest boy was called, satin the fireplace, "the flue, " as it was termed. By his side sat JohnHanks, who had recently arrived from Kentucky--a rough, kindly-lookingman. 

[Illustration: LINES WRITTEN BY LINCOLN ON THE LEAF OF HIS SCHOOL-BOOKIN HIS FOURTEENTH YEAR. 

Preserved by his Step-mother. 

_Original in possession of J. W. Weik. _]

"Wait a minute, " said great-hearted Mrs. Lincoln--"wait a minute beforeyou begin. "

"What are you going to do, mother (wife)?"

"I'm just going to set these potatoes to roast before the fire, so wecan have a little treat all by ourselves when you have got through yourstory. There, that is all. "

The poor woman sat down by the table--she had brought the table to herhusband on her marriage; he probably never owned a table--and began toknit, saying:

"Abraham, you mind the potatoes. Don't let 'em burn. "

"Yes, mother. "

"Mother"--the word seemed to make her happy. Her face lighted. She satknitting for an hour, silent and serene, while Thomas Lincoln talked. 

_THOMAS LINCOLN'S STORY. _

"My father, " began the old story-teller, "came to Kentucky fromVirginia. His name was Abraham Lincoln. I have always thought that was agood, solid name--a worthy name--and so I gave it to my boy here, andhope that he will never bring any disgrace upon it. I never can be muchin this world; Abe may. 

"This was in Daniel Boone's day. On our way to Kentucky we began to hearterrible stories of the Indian attacks on the new settlers. In 1780, theyear that we emigrated from Virginia, there were many murders of thesettlers by the Indians, which were followed by the battle of Lower BlueLicks, in which Boone's son was wounded. 

"I have heard my mother and the old settlers talk over that battle. When Daniel Boone found that his son was wounded, he tried to carry himaway. There was a river near, and he lifted the boy upon his back andhurried toward it. As he came to the river, the boy grew heavy. 

"'Father, I believe that I am dying, ' said the boy. 

"'We will be across the river soon, ' said Boone. 'Hold on. '

"The boy clung to his father's neck with stiffening arms. While theywere crossing the river the son died. Oh, it was a sight for pity--now, wasn't it, preacher? Boone in the river, with the dead body of his boyon his back. Our country has known few scenes like that. How that fathermust 'a' felt! You furriners little know these things. 

"The Indians swam after him. He laid down the body of his son on theground and struck into the forest. 

"It was in this war that Boone's little daughter was carried away by theIndians. I must tell ye. I love to talk of old times. 

"She was at play with two other little girls outside of the stockade atBoonesborough, on the Kentucky River. There was a canoe on the bank. 

"'Let us take the canoe and go across the river, ' said one of the girls, innocent-like. 

"Well, they got into the boat and paddled across the running river tothe opposite side. They reached shallow water, when a party of Indians, who had been watching them, cunning-like, stole out of the thick trees'n' rushed down to the canoe 'n' drew it to the shore. The girlsscreamed, and their cries were heard at the fort. 

"Night was falling. Three of the Indians took a little girl apiece, and, looking back to the fort in the sunset, uttered a shriek ofdefiance, such as would ha' made yer flesh creep, and disappeared in thetimber. 

"That night a party was got together at the fort to pursue the Indiansand rescue the children. 

"Well, near the close of the next day the party came upon these Indians, some forty miles from the fort. They approached the camp cautiously, coyote-like, 'n' saw that the girls were there. 

"'Shoot carefully, now, ' said the leader. 'Each man bring down anIndian, or the children will be killed before we can reach them. '

"They fired upon the Indians, picking out the three who were nearest thechildren. Not one of the Indians was hit, but the whole party wasterribly frightened, leaped up, 'n' run like deer. The children wererescued unharmed 'n' taken back to the fort. You would think them waspretty hard times, wouldn't ye?

"There was one event that happened at the time about which I have heardthe old folks tell, with staring eyes, and I will never forget it. TheIndians came one night to attack a log-house in which were a man, hiswife, and daughter, named Merrill. They did not wish to burn the cabin, but to enter it and make captives of the family; so they cut a hole inthe door, with their hatchets, large enough to crawl through one at atime. They wounded Mr. Merrill outright. 

"But Mrs. Merrill was a host in herself. Her only weapon was an axe, andthere never was fought in Kentucky, or anywhere else in the world, I'mthinkin', such another battle as that. 

"The leader of the Indians put his head through the hole in the door andbegan to crawl into the room, slowly--slowly--so--"

Mr. Lincoln put out his great arms, and moved his hands mysteriously. 

"Well, " he continued, "what do you suppose happened? Mrs. Merrill shedealt that Indian a death-blow on the head with the axe, just like_that_, and then drew him in slowly, slowly. The Indians without thoughtthat he had crawled in himself, and another Indian followed him slowly, slowly. That Indian received his death-blow on the head, and was pulledin like the first, slowly. Another and another Indian were treated inthe same way, until the dark cabin floor presented an awful scene forthe morning. 

"Only one or two were left without. The women felt that they were nowthe masters in the contest, and stood looking on what they had done. There fell a silence over the place. Still, awful still everywhere. Whata silence it was! The two Indians outside listened. Why were theircomrades so still? What had happened? Why was everything so still? Oneof them tried to look through the hole in the door into the dark andbloody room. Then the two attempted to climb down the chimney from thelow roof of the cabin, but Mrs. Merrill put her bed into the fireplaceand set it on fire. 

"Such were some of the scenes of my father's few years of life inKentucky; and now comes the most dreadful memory of all. Oh, it makes mewild to think o' it! Preacher, as I said, my father was killed by theIndians. You did not know that before, did you? No; well, it was so. Abraham Lincoln was shot by the red-skins. I was with him at the time, alittle boy then, and I shall never forget that awful morning--never, never!--Abraham, mind the potatoes; you've heard the story a hundredtimes. "

Young Abraham Lincoln turned the potatoes and brightened the fire. Thomas Lincoln bent over and rested his body on his knees, and held hispipe out in one hand. 

"Preacher, listen. One morning father looked out of the cabin door, andsaid to mother:

"'I must go to the field and build a fence to-day. I will let Tommy gowith me. '

"I was Tommy. I was six years old then. He loved me, and liked to haveme with him. It was in the year 1784--I never shall forget the dark daysof that year!--never, never. 

"I had two brothers older than myself, Mordecai and Josiah. We give boysScriptur' names in those days. They had gone to work in another fieldnear by. 

"We went to the field where the rails were to be cut and laid, andfather began to work. He was a great, noble-looking man, and a truepioneer. I can see him now. I was playing near him, when suddenly therecame a shot as it were out of the air. My poor father reeled over andfell down dead. What must have been his last thoughts of my mother andher five children? I have often thought of that--what must have been hislast thoughts? Well, Preacher, you listen. 

"A band of Indians came leaping out of the bush howling like demons. Ifell upon the ground. I can sense the fright now. A tall, black Indian, with a face like a wolf, came and stood over me, and was about to seizehold of me. I could hear him breathe. There came a shot from the house, and the Indian dropped down beside me, dead. My brother Mordecai hadseen father fall, 'n' ran to the house 'n' fired that shot that saved mylife. Josiah had gone to the stockade for help, and he returned soonwith armed men, and the Indians disappeared. 

"O Preacher, those were dark days, wasn't they? Dark, dark days! Younever saw such. They took up my father's body--what a sight!--and boreit into the cabin. You should have seen my poor mother then. What was tohelp us? Only the blue heavens were left us then. What could we do? Mymother and five children alone in the wilderness full of savages!

"Preacher, I have seen dark days! I have known what it was to be poorand supperless and friendless; but I never sought revenge on theIndians, though Mordecai did. I'm glad that you're going to preach amongthem. I couldn't do it, with such memories as mine, perhaps; but I'mglad you can, 'n' I hope that you will go and do them good. Heaven blessthose who seek to do good in this sinful world--"

"Abraham, are the potatoes done?" said a gentle voice. 

"Yes, mother. "

"Then pass them 'round. Give the preacher one first; then your father. Ido not care for any. "

The tall boy passed the roasted potatoes around as directed. Jasper atehis potato in silence. The stories of the hardships of this forestfamily had filled his heart with sympathy, and Thomas Lincoln had_acted_ the stories that he told in such a way as to leave a most vividimpression on his mind. 

"These stories make you sad, " said Mrs. Lincoln to Jasper. "They areheart-rendin', and I sometimes think it is almost wrong to tell them. Doyou think it is right to tell a story that awakens hard and rebelliousfeelin's? 'Evil communications corrupt good manners, ' the Good Booksays. I sometimes wish that folks would tell only stories that are good, and make one the better for hearin'--parables like. "

"My heart feels for you all, " said Jasper. "I feel for everybody. Thislife is all new to me. "

"Let us have something more cheerful now, " said Mrs. Lincoln. --"Abraham, recite to the preacher a piece from the English Reader. "

"Which one, mother?"

"The Hermit--how would that do? I don't know much about poetry, butAbraham does. He makes it up. It is a queer turn of mind he has. Helearns all the poetry that he can find, and makes it up himself out ofhis own head. He's got poetry in him, though he don't look so. How heever does it, puzzles me. His mother was poetic like. It is a gift, likegrace. Where do you suppose it comes from, and what will he ever do withit? He ain't like other boys. He's kind o' peculiar some. --Come, Abraham, recite to us The Hermit. It is a proper good piece. "

The tall boy came out of "the flue" and stood before the dying fire. Theold leather-covered English Reader, which he said in later life was thebest book ever written, lay on the table before him. He did not open it, however. He put his hands behind him and raised his dark face as in akind of abstraction. He began to recite slowly in a clear voice, fullof a peculiar sympathy that gave color to every word. He seemed asthough he felt that the experience of the poet was somehow a prophecy ofhis own life; and it was. He himself became a skeptical man in religiousthought, but returned to the simple faith of his ancestors amid the darkscenes of war. 

The poem was a beautiful one in form and soul, an old English pastoral, by Beattie. How grand it seemed, even to unpoetic Thomas Lincoln, as itflowed from the lips of his studious son!

_THE HERMIT. _

 At the close of the day, when the hamlet is still, And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove; When naught but the torrent is heard on the hill, And naught but the nightingale's song in the grove: 'Twas thus, by the cave of the mountain afar, While his harp rung symphonious, a hermit began; No more with himself or with Nature at war, He thought as a sage, though he felt as a man:

 "Ah, why, all abandoned to darkness and woe, Why, lone Philomela, that languishing fall? For spring shall return, and a lover bestow, And sorrow no longer thy bosom inthrall. But, if pity inspire thee, renew the sad lay, Mourn, sweetest complainer, man calls thee to mourn; O soothe him whose pleasures like thine pass away: Full quickly they pass--but they never return. 

 "Now gliding remote, on the verge of the sky, The moon, half extinguished, her crescent displays: But lately I marked when majestic on high She shone, and the planets were lost in her blaze. Roll on, thou fair orb, and with gladness pursue The path that conducts thee to splendor again: But man's faded glory what change shall renew? Ah, fool! to exult in a glory so vain!

 "'Tis night, and the landscape is lovely no more: I mourn; but, ye woodlands, I mourn not for you; For morn is approaching, your charms to restore, Perfumed with fresh fragrance, and glitt'ring with dew. Nor yet for the ravage of winter I mourn; Kind Nature the embryo blossom will save: But when shall spring visit the moldering urn? Oh, when shall day dawn on the night of the grave?

 "'Twas thus by the glare of false science betrayed, That leads to bewilder, and dazzles to blind; My thoughts wont to roam, from shade onward to shade, Destruction before me, and sorrow behind. 'Oh pity, great Father of light, ' then I cried, 'Thy creature who fain would not wander from thee! Lo, humbled in dust, I relinquish my pride: From doubt and from darkness thou only canst free. '

 "And darkness and doubt are now flying away; No longer I roam in conjecture forlorn: So breaks on the traveler, faint and astray, The bright and the balmy effulgence of morn. See truth, love, and mercy, in triumph descending, And Nature all glowing in Eden's first bloom! On the cold cheek of death smiles and roses are blending, And beauty immortal awakes from the tomb. "

Mrs. Lincoln used to listen to such recitations as this from the EnglishReaders and Kentucky Orators with delight and wonder. She loved the boywith all her heart. In all the biographies of Lincoln there is hardly amore pathetic incident than one told by Mr. Herndon of his visit to Mrs. Lincoln after the assassination and the national funeral. Mr. Herndonwas the law partner of Lincoln for many years, and we give the incidenthere, out of place as it is. Mrs. Lincoln said to her step-son's friend:

"Abe was a poor boy, and I can say what scarcely one woman--amother--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 requestedhim. I never gave him a cross word in all my life. . . . His mind and mymind--what little I had--seemed to run together. . . . He was here after hewas elected President. " Here she stopped, unable to proceed any further, and after her grateful emotions had spent themselves in tears, sheproceeded: "He was dutiful to me always. I think he loved me truly. Ihad a son, John, who was raised with Abe. Both were good boys; but Imust say, both being now dead, that Abe was the best boy I ever saw orever expect to see. I wish I had died when my husband died. I did notwant Abe to run for President, did not want him elected; was afraid, somehow--felt it in my heart; and when he came down to see me, after hewas elected President, I felt that something would befall him, and thatI should see him no more. "

Equally beautiful was the scene when Lincoln visited this good woman forthe last time, just before going to Washington to be inauguratedPresident. 

"Abraham, " she said, as she stood in her humble backwoods cabin, "something tells me that I shall never see you again. "

He put his hand around her neck, lifted her face to heaven and said, "Mother!"

CHAPTER III. 

THE OLD BLACKSMITH'S SHOP AND THE MERRY STORY-TELLERS. 

_JOHNNIE KONGAPOD'S INCREDIBLE STORY. _

The country store, in most new settlements, is the resort ofstory-tellers. It was not so here. There was a log blacksmith-shop bythe wayside near the Gentryville store, overspread by the cool boughs ofpleasant trees, and having a glowing forge and wide-open doors, whichwas a favorite resort of the good-humored people of Spencer County, andhere anecdotes and stories used to be told which Abraham Lincoln in hispolitical life made famous. The merry pioneers little thought that theirrude stories would ever be told at great political meetings, to generalsand statesmen, and help to make clear practical thought to Legislatures, senates, and councils of war. Abraham Lincoln claimed that he obtainedhis education by learning all that he could of any one who could teachhim anything. In all the curious stories told in his hearing in thisquaint Indiana smithy, he read some lesson of life. 

The old blacksmith was a natural story-teller. Young Lincoln liked towarm himself by the forge in winter and sun himself in the open door insummer, and tempt this sinewy man to talk. The smithy was a commonresort of Thomas Lincoln, and of John and Dennis Hanks, who belonged tothe family of Abraham's mother. The schoolmaster must have liked theplace, and the traveling ministers tarried long there when they broughttheir horses to be shod. In fact, the news-stand of that day, theliterary club, the lecture platform, the place of amusement, andeverything that stirred associated life, found its common center in thisrude old smithy by the wayside, amid the running brooks and fanningtrees. 

The stories told here were the curious incidents and adventures ofpioneer life, rude in fact and rough in language, but having pith andpoint. 

Thomas Lincoln, on the afternoon of the next day, said to Jasper:

"Come, preacher, let's go over to the smithy. I want ye to see theblacksmith. We all like to see the blacksmith in these parts; he's anuncommon man. "

They went to the smithy. Abraham followed them. The forge was low, andthe blacksmith was hammering over old nails on the anvil. 

"Hello!" said Thomas Lincoln; "not doin' much to-day. I brought thepreacher over to call on you--he's a Tunker--has been to see theschool--he teaches himself--thought you'd want to know him. "

"Glad you come. Here, sit down in the leather chair, and make yourselfat home. Been long in these new parts?"

"No, my friend; I have been to Illinois, but I have never been herebefore. I am glad to see you. "

[Illustration: STORY-TELLING AT THE SMITHY. ]

"What do you think of the country?" said the blacksmith. "Think it is agood place to settle in? Hope that you have come to cast your lot withus. We need a preacher; we haven't any goodness to spare. You come fromforeign parts, I take it. Well, well, there's room for a world of peopleout here in the woods and prairies. I hope that you will like it, andget your folks to come. We'll do all we can for you. We be men of goodwill, if we be hard-looking and poor. "

"My good friend, I believe you. You are great-hearted men, and I likeyou. "

"Brainy, too. Let me start up the forge. "

"Preacher, come here, " said Thomas Lincoln. "I haven't had no edicationto speak of, but I've invented a new system of book-keepin' that beatsthe schools. There's one of them there. The blacksmith keeps all of hisaccounts by it. I've got one on a puncheon at home; did you notice it?This is how it is; you may want to use it yourself. Come and look atit. "

On a rough board over the forge Thomas Lincoln had drawn a number ofstraight lines with a coal, as are sometimes put on a blackboard by asinging-master. On the lower bars were several cloudy erasures, and atthe end of these bars were initials. 

"Don't understand it, do you? Well, now, it is perfectly simple. Itaught it to Aunt Olive, and she don't know more than some wholefamilies, though she thinks that she knows more than the whole creation. Seen such people, hain't ye? Yes. The woods are full of 'em. Well, thatain't neither here nor there. This is how it works: A man comes here tohave his horse shod--minister, may be; short, don't pay. Nothin' to paywith but funeral sermons, and you can't collect them all the time. Well, all you have to do is just to draw your finger across one of them lines, and write his initials after it. And when he comes again, rub outanother place on the same lines. "

"And when you have rubbed out all the places you could along that line, how much would you be worth?" said the blacksmith. 

"I call that a new way of keeping accounts, " continued Thomas Lincoln, earnestly. "Did you ever see anything of the kind before? No. It's a newand original way. We do a great lot o' thinkin' down here inwinter-time, when we haven't much else to do. I'm goin' to put one o'them new systems into the mill. "

The meetings of the pioneers at the blacksmith's shop formed a kind ofmerry-go-round club. One would tell a story in his own odd way, andanother would say, "That reminds me, " and tell a similar story that wasintended to exceed the first in point of humor. One of Thomas Lincoln'sfavorite stories was "GL-UK!" or, as he sometimes termed it--

"_HOW ABRAHAM WENT TO MILL. _

"It was a mighty curi's happenin', " he would say. "I don't know how toaccount for it--the human mind is a very strange thing. We go to sleepand are lost to the world entirely, and we wake up again. We die, andleave our bodies, and the soul-memory wakes again; if it have the newlife and sense, it wakes again somewhere. We're curi's critters, all onus, and don't know what we are. 

"When I first came to Indiana I made a mill of my own--Abe and I did. 'Twas just a big stone attached to a heavy pole like a well-sweep, so asto pound heavy, up and down, up and down. You can see it now, though itis all out of gear and kilter. 

"Then, they built a mill 'way down on the river, and I used to send Abethere on horseback. Took him all day to go and come: used to start earlyin the mornin', and, as he had to wait his turn at the mill, he didn'tuse to get back until sundown. Then came Gordon and built his millalmost right here among us--a horse-mill with a windlass, all mightyhandy: just hitch the horse to a windlass and pole, and he goes roundand round, and never gets nowhere, but he grinds the corn and wheat. Something like me: I go round and round, and never seem to get anywhere, but something will come of it, you may depend. 

"Well, one day I says to Abraham:

"You must hitch up the horse and go to Gordon's to mill. The meal-tub islow, and there's a storm a-brewin'. '

"So Abe hitched up the horse and started. That horse is a mighty steadyanimal--goes around just like a machine; hasn't any capers norantics--just as sober as a minister. I should have no more thought ofhis kickin' than I should have thought of the millstones a-hoppin' outof the hopper. 'Twas a mighty curi's affair. 

"Well, Abe went to Gordon's, and his turn come to grind. He hitched thehorse to the pole, and said, as always, 'Get up, you old jade!' I alwayssay that, so Abe does. He didn't mean any disrespect to the horse, whoalways maintained a very respectable-like character up to that day. 

"The horse went round and round, round and round, just as steady asclock-work, until the grist was nearly out, and the sound of thegrindin' was low, when he began to lag, sleepy-like. Abe he run upbehind him, and said, 'Get up, you old jade!' then puckered up hismouth, so, to say 'Gluck. ' 'Tis a word I taught him to use. Every onehas his own horse-talk. 

"He waved his stick, and said 'Gl--'

"Was the horse bewildered? He never did such a thing before. In aninstant, like a thunder-clap when the sun was shinin', he h'isted up hisheels and kicked Abraham in the head, and knocked him over on theground, and then stopped as though to think on what he had done. 

"The mill-hands ran to Abraham. There the boy lay stretched out on theground just as though he was dead. They thought he was dead. They gotsome water, and worked over him a spell. They could see that hebreathed, but they thought that every breath would be his last. 

"'He's done for this world, ' said Gordon. 'He'll never come to hissenses again. Thomas Lincoln would be proper sorry. ' And so I shouldhave been had Abraham died. Sometimes I think like it was the Evil Onethat possessed that horse. It don't seem to me that he'd 'a' ever ha'kicked Abe of his own self--right in the head, too. You can see the scaron him now. 

"Well, almost an hour passed, when Abe came to himself--consciousnessthey call it--all at once, in an instant. And what do you think was thefirst thing he said? Just this--'uk!'

"He finished the word just where he left it when the horse kicked him, and looked around wild-like, and there was the critter standin' still asthe mill-stun. ' Now, where do you think the soul of Abe was between'Gl--' and 'uk'? I'd like to have ye tell me that. "

A long discussion would follow such a question. Abraham Lincoln himselfonce discussed the same curious incident with his law-partner Herndon, and made it a subject of the continuance of mental consciousness afterdeath. 

It was a warm afternoon. A dark cloud hung in the northern sky, and grewslowly over the arch of serene and sunny blue. 

"Goin' to have a storm, " said the blacksmith. "Shouldn't wonder if itwere a tempest. We generally get a tempest about this time of year, whenwinter finally breaks up into spring. Well, I declare! there comesJohnnie Kongapod, the Kickapoo Indian from Illinois--he and his dogs. "

A tall Indian was seen coming toward the smithy, followed by two dogs. The men watched him as he approached. He was a kind of chief, and hadaccepted the teachings of the early missionaries. He used to wanderabout among the new settlements, and was very proud of himself and hisown tribe and race. He had an honest heart. He once composed an epitaphfor himself, which was well meant but read oddly, and which AbrahamLincoln sometimes used to quote in his professional career:

 "Here lies poor Johnnie Kongapod, Have mercy on him, gracious God, As he would do if he was God, And you were Johnnie Kongapod. "

The Indian sat down on the log sill of the blacksmith's shop, andwatched the gathering cloud as it slowly shut out the sky. 

"Storm, " said he. "Lay down, Jack; lay down, Jim. "

Jack and Jim were his two dogs. They eyed the flaming forge. One of themseemed tired, and lay down beside his master, but the other made himselftroublesome. 

"That reminds me, " said Dennis Hanks; and he related a curious story ofa troublesome dog, perhaps the one which in its evolutions became knownas "SYKES'S DOG, " though this may be a later New Salem story. It was anodd and a coarse bit of humor. Lincoln himself is represented as tellingthis, or a like story, to General Grant after the Vicksburg campaign, something as follows:

"'Your enemies were constantly coming to me with their criticisms whilethe siege was in progress, and they did not cease their ill opinionsafter the city fell. I thought that the time had come to put an end tothis kind of criticism, so one day, when a delegation called to see meand had spent a half-hour, and tried to show me the great mistake thatyou had made in paroling Pemberton's army, I thought I could get rid ofthem best by telling the story of Sykes's dog. 

"'Have you ever heard the story of Sykes's dog?' I said to the spokesmanof the delegation. 

"'No. '

"'Well, I must tell it to you. Sykes had a yellow dog that he set greatstore by; but there were a lot of _small boys_ around the village, andthe dog became very unpopular among them. His eye was so keen on hismaster's interests that there arose prejudice against him. The boyscounseled how to get rid of him. They finally fixed up a cartridge witha long fuse, and put the cartridge in a piece of meat, and then sat downon a fence and called the dog, one of them holding the fuse in hishand. The dog swallowed the meat, cartridge and all, and stood choking, when one of them touched off the fuse. There was a loud report. Sykescame out of the house, and found the ground was strewed with pieces ofthe dog. He picked up the biggest piece that he could find--a portion ofthe back with the tail still hanging to it--and said:

"'Well, I guess that will never be of much account again--_as adog_. '--'I guess that Pemberton's forces will never amount to muchagain--as an army. ' By this time the delegation were looking for theirhats. "

Like stories followed among the merry foresters. One of them toldanother "That reminds me"--how that two boys had been pursued by a smallbut vicious dog, and one of them had caught and held him by the tailwhile the other ran up a tree. At last the boy who was holding the dogbecame tired and knew not what to do, and cried out:

"Jim!"

"What say?"

"Come down. "

"What for?"

"To help me let go of the dog. "

This story, also, whatever may have been the date of it, PresidentLincoln used to tell amid the perplexities of the war. In the darkesttimes of his life at the White House his mind used to return forillustration to the stories told at this backwoods smithy, and at thecountry stores that he afterward came to visit at Gentryville, Indiana, and New Salem, Illinois. 

He delighted in the blacksmith's own stories and jokes. The man's namewas John Baldwin. He was the Homer of Gentryville, as the villageportion of this vast unsettled portion of country was called. DennisHanks, Abraham Lincoln's cousin, who frequented the smithy, was also anatural story-teller. The stories which had their origin here evolvedand grew, and became known in all the rude cabins. Then, when AbrahamLincoln became President, his mind went back to the quaint smithy in thecool, free woods, and to the country stores, and he told these storiesall over again. It seemed restful to his mind to wander back to oldIndiana and Illinois. 

The cloud grew. The air darkened. There was an occasional rustle of windin the tree-tops. 

"It's comin', " said the blacksmith. "Now, Johnnie Kongapod, you tell usthe story. Tell us how Aunt Olive frightened ye when you went to pilother off to the camp-meetin'. "

"No, " said Johnnie Kongapod. "It thunders. You must get Aunt Olive totell you that story. "

"When you come to meet her, " said the blacksmith to Jasper. "Kongapodwould tell it to you, but he's afraid of the cloud. No wonder. "

A vivid flash of lightning forked the sky. There followed an appallingcrash of thunder, a light wind, a few drops of rain, a darker air, andall was still. The men looked out as the cloud passed over. 

"You will have to stay here now, " said the blacksmith, "until the cloudhas passed. Our stories may seem rather rough to you, edicated as youare over the sea. Tell us a story--a German story. Let me put the oldleather chair up here before the fire. If you will tell us one of thoseGerman stories, may be I'll tell you how Johnnie Kongapod here and AuntOlive went to the camp-meetin', and what happened to them on the way. "

There was a long silence on the dark air. The blacksmith enlivened thefire, which lit up the shop. Jasper sat down in the leather chair, andsaid:

"Those Indian dogs remind me of scenes and stories unlike anything here. The life of the dog has its lesson true, and there is nothing truer inthis world than the heart of a shepherd's dog. I am a shepherd's dog. Iam speaking in parable; you will understand me better by and by. 

"Let me tell you the story of 'THE SHEPHERD DOG, ' and the story willalso tell a story, as do all stories that have a soul; and it is onlystories that have souls that live. The true story gathers a soul fromthe one who tells it, else it is no story at all. 

"There once lived on the borders of the Black Forest, Germany, an oldcouple who were very poor. Their name was Gragstein. The old man kept ashepherd dog that had been faithful to him for many years, and thatloved him more than it did its own life, and he came to call himFaithful. 

"One day, as the old couple were seated by the fire, Frau Gragsteinsaid:

"'Hear the wind blow! There is a hard winter comin', and we have less inour crib than we ever had before. We must live snugger than ever. Weshall hardly have enough to keep us two. It will be a long time beforethe birds sing again. You must be more savin', and begin now. Hear thewind howl. It is a warning. '

"'What would you have me do?' asked Gragstein. 

"'There are three of us, and we have hardly store for two. '

"'But what would you have me do with _him_? He is old, and I could notsell him, or give him away. '

"'Then I would take him away into the forest and shoot him, and run andleave him. I know it is hard, but the pinch of poverty is hard, and ithas come. '

"'Shoot Faithful! Shoot old Faithful! Take him out into the forest andshoot him! Why, a man's last friends are his God, his mother, and hisdog. Would you have me shoot old Faithful? How could I?'

"At the words 'Shoot old Faithful, ' the great dog had started up asthough he understood. He bent his large eyes on the old woman andwhined, then wheeled around once and sank down at his master's feet. 

"'He acts as though he understood what you were saying. '

"'No, he don't, ' said the old woman. 'You set too much store by the dog, and imagine such things. He's too old to ever be of service to us anymore, and he eats a deal. The storm will be over by morning. Hear theshowers of the leaves! The fall wind is rending the forest. 'Tis seventyfalls that we have seen, and we will not see many more. We must livewhile we do live, and the dog must be put out of the way. You must takeFaithful out into the forest in the morning and kill him. '

"The dog started up again. 'Take Faithful and kill him!' He seemed tocomprehend. He looked into his master's face and gave a piteous howl, and went to the door and pawed. 

"'Let him go out, ' said the old woman. 'What possesses him to go outto-night into the storm? But let him go, and then I can talk easierabout the matter. Did you see his eyes--as if he knew? He haunts me! Lethim go out. '

"The old man opened the door, and the dog disappeared in the darkness, uttering another piteous howl. 

"Then the old couple sat down and talked over the matter, and Gragsteinpromised his wife that he would shoot the dog in the morning. 

"'It is hard, ' said the old woman, 'but Providence wills it, and wemust. '

"The wind lulled, and there was heard a wild, pitiful howl far away inthe forest. 

"'What is that?' asked the old woman, starting. 

"'It was Faithful. '

"'So far away!'

"'The poor dog acted strange. There it is again, farther away. '

"The morning came, but the dog did not return. He had never stayed awayfrom the old hut before. The next day he did not come, nor the next. Theold couple missed him, and the old man bitterly reproached his wife forwhat she had advised him to do. 

"Winter came, with pitiless storms and cold, and the old man would goforth to hunt alone, wishing Faithful was with him. 

"'It is not safe for me to go alone, ' said he. 'I wish that the dogwould come back. '

"'He will never come back, ' said the old woman. 'He is dead. I can hearhim howl nights, far away on the hill. He haunts me. Every night, when Iput out the light, I can hear him howl out in the forest. 'Tis mytender heart that troubles me. 'Tis a troubled conscience that makesghosts. '

"The old man tottered away with his gun. It was a cold morning after asnow. The old woman watched him from the frosty window as hedisappeared, and muttered:

"'It is hard to be old and poor. God pity us all!'

"Night came, but the old man did not return. The old woman was in greatdistress, and knew not what to do. She set the candle in the window, andwent to the door and called a hundred times, and listened, but no answercame. The silent stars filled the sky, and the moon rose over the snow, but no answer came. 

"The next morning she alarmed the neighbors, and a company gathered tosearch for Gragstein. The men followed his tracks into the forests, overa cliff, and down to a stream of running water. They came to some thinice, which had been weakened by the rush of the current, and there thetracks were lost. 

"'He attempted to cross, ' said one, 'and fell in. We will find his bodyin the spring. I pity his poor old wife. What shall we tell her?--Whatwas that?'

"There was heard a pitiful howl on the other side of the stream. 

"'Look!' said another. 

"Just across the stream a great, lean shepherd dog came out of the snowtents of firs. His voice was weak, but he howled pitifully, as thoughcalling the men. 

"'We must cross the stream!' said they all. 

"The men made a bridge by pushing logs and fallen trees across the ice. The dog met them joyfully, and they followed him. 

"Under the tents of firs they found Gragstein, ready to perish with coldand hunger. 

"'Take me home!' said he. 'I can not last long. Take me home, and callhome the dog!'

"'What has happened?' asked the men. 

"'I fell in. I called for help, and--the dog came--Faithful. He rescuedme, but I was numb. He lay down on me and warmed me, and kept me alive. Faithful! Call home the dog!'

"The men took up the old man and rubbed him, and gave him food. Thenthey called the dog and gave him food, but he would not eat. 

"They returned as fast as they could to the cottage. Frau Gragstein cameout to meet them. The dog saw her and stopped and howled, dived into theforest, and disappeared. 

"The old man died that night. They buried him in a few days. The oldwoman was left all alone. The night after the funeral, when she put outthe light, she thought that she heard a feeble howl in the still air, and stopped and listened. But she never heard that sound again. The nextmorning she opened the door and looked out. There, under a bench wherehis master had often caressed him in the summer evenings of many years, lay the body of old Faithful, dead. He had never ceased to watch thehouse, and had died true. 'Tis the best thing that we can say of anyliving creature, man or dog, he was true-hearted. 

"Remember the story. It will make you better. The storm is clearing. "

The cloud had passed over, leaving behind the blue sky of spring. 

"That was an awful good dog to have, " said John Hanks. "There are humanfolks wouldn't 'a' done like that. "

"I wouldn't, " said one of the men. "But here, I declare, comes the oldwoman. Been out neighborin', and got caught in the storm, and gone backto Pigeon Creek. We won't have to tell that there story about her andthe wig, and Johnnie Kongapod here. She'll tell it to you herself, elder--she'll tell it to you herself. She's a master-hand to go tomeetin', and sing, and tell stories, she is. --Here, elder--this is AuntOlive. "

The same woman that Jasper had met on his way to Pigeon Creek came intothe blacksmith's shop, and held her hands over the warm fire. 

"Proper smart rain--spring tempest, " said she. "Winter has broke, and weshall have steady weather. --Found your way, elder, didn't you? Well, I'mglad. It's a mighty poor sign for an elder to lose his way. You took myadvice, didn't you?--turned to the right and kept straight ahead, andyou got there. Well, that's what I tell 'em in conference-meetin's--turnto the right and keep straight ahead, and they'll get there; and then Ising out, and shout, 'I'm bound for the kingdom!' Come over and see me, elder. I'm good to everybody except lazy people. --Abraham Lincoln, whatare you lazing around here for?--And Johnnie Kongapod! This ain't anyplace for men in the spring of the year! I've been neighborin'. I haveto do it just to see if folks are doin' as they oughter. There are agreat many people who don't do as they oughter in this world. Now I amgoin' straight home between the drops. "

The woman hurried away and disappeared under the trees. 

The cloud broke in two dark, billowy masses, and red sunset, like a sea, spread over the prairie, the light heightening amid glimmerings ofpearly rain. 

Jasper went back to Pigeon Creek with Abraham. 

"Isn't that woman a little queer?" he asked--"a little touched in mind, may be?"

"She does not like me, " said the boy; "though most people like me. Iseem to have a bent for study, and father thinks that the time I spendin study is wasted, and Aunt Olive calls me lazy, and so do theCrawfords--I don't mean the master. Most people like me, but there aresome here that don't think much of me. I am not lazy. I long forlearning! I will have it. I learn everything I can from every one, and Ido all I can for every one. She calls me lazy, though I have been goodto her. They say I am a lively boy, and I like to be thought well ofhere, and when I hear such things as that it makes me feel down in themouth. Do you ever feel down in the mouth? I do. I wonder what willbecome of me? Whatever happens, or folks may say, elder, I mean to makethe best of life, and be true to the best that is in me. Something willcome of it. Don't you think so, elder?"

They came to Thomas Lincoln's cabin, and the serene face of Mrs. Lincolnmet them at the door. A beautiful evening followed the tempest gust, andthe Lincolns and the old Tunker sat down to a humble meal. 

The mild spring evening that followed drew together another group ofpeople to the lowly home of Thomas Lincoln. Among them came Aunt Olive, whose missionary work among her neighbors was as untiring as her tongue. And last among the callers there came stealing into the light of thepine fire, like a shadow, the tall, brown form of Johnnie Kongapod, orKonapod. 

The pioneer story-telling here began again, and ended in an episode thatleft a strange, mysterious impression, like a prophecy, on nearly everymind. 

"Let me tell you the story of my courtship, " said Thomas Lincoln. 

"Thomas!" said a mild, firm voice. 

"Oh, don't speak in that tone to me, " said the backwoodsman to his wife, who had sought to check him. --"Sally don't like to hear that story, though I do think it is to her credit, if simple honesty is a thing tobe respected. Sally is an honest woman. I don't believe that there is anhonester creatur' in all these parts, unless it was that Injun thatJohnnie Kongapod tells about. "

A loud laugh arose, and the dusky figure of Johnnie Kongapod retreatedsilently back into a deep shadow near the open door. His feelings hadbeen wounded. Young Abraham Lincoln saw the Indian's movement, and hewent out and stood in the shadow in silent sympathy. 

"Well, good folks, Sally and I used to know each other before I removedfrom Kentuck' to Indiany. After my first wife died of the milk-fever Iwas lonesome-like with two young children, and about as poor as I waslonesome, although I did have a little beforehand. Well, Sally was awidder, and used to imagine that she must be lonesome, too; and Ithought at last, after that there view of the case had haunted me, thatI would just go up to Kentucky and see. Souls kind o' draw each other along way apart; it goes in the air. So I hitched up and went, and Ifound Sally at home, and all alone. 

"'Sally, ' said I, 'do you remember me?'

"'Yes, ' said she, 'I remember you well. You are Tommy Linken. What hasbrought you back to Kentuck'?'

"'Well, Sally, ' said I, 'my wife is dead. '

"'Is that so, ' said she, all attention. 

"'Yes; wife died more than a year ago, and a good wife she was; and I'vejust come back to look for another. '

"She sat like a statue, Sally did, and never spoke a word. So I said:

"'Do you like me, Sally Johnson?'

"'Yes, Tommy Linken. '

"'You do?'

"'Yes, Tommy Linken, I like you well enough to marry you, but I couldnever think of such a thing--at least not now. '

"'Why?'

"'Because I'm in debt, and I would never ask a man who had offered tomarry me to pay my debts. '

"'Let me hear all about it, ' said I. 

"She brought me her account-book from the cupboard. Well, good folks, how much do you suppose Sally owed? Twelve dollars! It was a heap ofmoney for a woman to owe in those days. 

"Well, I put that account-book straight into my pocket and _run_. WhenI came back, all of her debts were paid. I told her so. 

"'Will you marry me now?' said I. 

"'Yes, ' said she. 

"And, good folks all, the next morning at nine o'clock we were married, and we packed up all her things and started on our weddin' tour toIndiany, and here we be now. Now that is what I call an honestwoman. --Johnnie Kongapod, can you beat that? Come, now, JohnnieKongapod. "

The Indian still stood in the shadow, with young Abraham beside him. Hedid not answer. 

"Johnnie is great on telling stories of good Injuns, " said Mr. Lincoln, "and we think that kind o' Injuns have about all gone up to the moonlithuntin'-grounds. "

The tall form of the Indian moved into the light of the doorway. Hiseyes gleamed. 

"Thomas Linken, that story that I told you was true. "

"What! that an Injun up to Prairie du Chien was condemned to die, andthat he asked to go home and see his family all alone, and promised toreturn on his honor?"

"Yes, Thomas Linken. "

"And that they let him go home all alone, and that he spent his nightwith his family in weepin' and wailin', and returned the next mornin' tobe shot?"

"Yes, Thomas Linken. "

"And that they shot him?"

"Yes, Thomas Linken. "

"Well, Johnnie, if I could believe that, I could believe anything. "

"An Injun has honor as well as a white man, Thomas Linken. "

"Who taught it to him?"

"His own heart--_here_. The Great Spirit's voice is in every man'sheart; his will is born in all men; his love and care are over us all. You may laugh at my poetry, but the Great Spirit will do by JohnnieKongapod as he would have Johnnie Kongapod do by him if Johnnie Kongapodheld the heavens. That story was true, and I know it to be true, and theGreat Spirit knows it to be true. Johnnie Kongapod is an honest Injun. "

"Then we have two honest folks here, " said Aunt Olive. "Three, mebby--only Tom Linken owes me a dollar and a half. So, Jasper, you seethat you have come to good parts. You'll see some strange things in yourtravels, way off to Rock River. Likely you'll see the Pictured Rocks onthe Mississippi--dragons there. Who painted 'em? Or Starved Rock on theIllinois, where a whole tribe died with the water sparklin' under theireyes. But if you ever come across any of the family of that Indian thatwent home on his honor all alone to see his family, and came back to beshot or hung, you just let us know. I'd like to adopt one of his boys. That would be something to begin a Sunday-school with!"

The company burst into another loud laugh. 

Johnnie Kongapod raised his long arm and stood silent. Aunt Olivestepped before him and looked him in the face. The Indian's red faceglowed, and he said vehemently: "Woman, that story is true!"

Sally Lincoln arose and rested her hand on the Indian's shoulder. "Johnny Kongapod, I can believe you--Abraham can. "

There was a deep silence in the cabin, broken only by Aunt Olive, whoarose indignantly and hurried away, and flung back on the mild air thesharp words "_I_ don't!"

The story of the Indian who held honor to be more than life, as relatedby Johnnie Kongapod, had often been told by the Indians at theircamp-fires, and by traveling preachers and missionaries who had faith inIndian character. Among those settlers who held all Indians to be bad itwas treated as a joke. Old Jasper asked Johnnie Kongapod many questionsabout it, and at last laid his hand on the dusky poet's shoulder, andsaid:

"My brother, I hope that it is true. I believe it, and I honor you forbelieving it. It is a good heart that believes what is best in life. "

How strange all this new life seemed to Jasper! How unlike the oldcastles and cottages of Germany, and the cities of the Rhine! And yet, for the tall boy by that cabin fire new America had an opportunity thatGermany could offer to no peasant's son. Jasper little thought that thatboy, so lively, so rude, so anxious to succeed, was an uncrowned king;yet so it was. 

And the legend? A true story has a soul, and a peculiar atmosphere andinfluence. Jasper saw what the Indian's story was, though he had heardit only indirectly and in outline. It haunted him. He carried it withhim into his dreams. 

[Illustration: THE HOME OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN WHEN IN HIS TENTH YEAR. ]

CHAPTER IV. 

A BOY WITH A HEART. 

Spring came early to the forests and prairies of southern Indiana. InMarch the maples began to burn, and the tops of the timber to change, and to take on new hues in the high sun and lengthening days. The birdswere on the wing, and the banks of the streams were beginning to looklike gardens, as indeed Nature's gardens they were. 

The woodland ponds were full of turtles or terrapins, and these began totravel about in the warm spring air. 

There was a great fireplace in Crawford's school, and, as fuel costnothing, it was, as we have said, well fed with logs, and was keptalmost continually glowing. 

It was one of the cruel sports of the boys, at the noonings and recessesof the school, to put coals of fire on the backs of wandering terrapins, and to joke at the struggles of the poor creatures to get to their homesin the ponds. 

Abraham Lincoln from a boy had a tender heart, a horror of cruelty andof everything that would cause any creature pain. He was merciful toevery one but the unmerciful, and charitable to every one but theuncharitable, and kind to everyone but the unkind. But his nature madewar at once on any one who sought to injure another, and he wasespecially severe on any one who was so mean and cowardly as todisregard the natural rights of a dumb animal or reptile. He had in thisrespect the sensitiveness of a Burns. All great natures, as biographyeverywhere attests, have fine instincts--this chivalrous sympathy forthe brute creation. 

Lincoln's nature was that of a champion for the right. He was a bornknight, and, strangely enough, his first battles in life were in defenseof the turtles or terrapins. He was a boy of powerful strength, and heused it roughly to maintain his cause. He is said to have once exclaimedthat the turtles were his brothers. 

The early days of spring in the old forests are full of life. The Sunseems to be calling forth his children. The ponds become margined withgreen, and new creatures everywhere stir the earth and the waters. Lifeand matter become, as it were, a new creation, and one can believeanything when he sees how many forms life and matter can assume underthe mellowing rays of the sun. The clod becomes a flower; the egg areptile, fish, or bird. The cunning woodchuck, that looks out of hishole on the awakening earth and blue sky, seems almost to have a senseof the miracle that has been wrought. The boy who throws a stone at him, to drive him back into the earth, seems less sensible of nature than he. It is a pleasing sight to see the little creature, as he stands on hishaunches, wondering, and the brain of a young Webster would naturallyseek to let such a groundling have all his right of birth. 

One day, when the blue spring skies were beginning to glow, Abraham wentout to play with his companions. It was one of his favorite amusementsto declaim from a stump. He would sometimes in this way recite longselections from the school Reader and Speaker. 

He had written a composition at school on the defense of the rights ofdumb animals, and there was one piece in the school Reader in which hemust have found a sympathetic chord, and which was probably one of thosethat he loved to recite. It was written by the sad poet Cowper, andbegan thus:

 "I would not enter on my list of friends (Though graced with polished manners and fine sense, Yet wanting sensibility) the man Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm. An inadvertent step may crush the snail, That crawls at evening in the public path; But he that has humanity, forewarned, Will tread aside, and let the reptile live. "

As Abraham and his companions were playing in the warm sun, one said:

"Make a speech for us, Abe. Hip, hurrah! You've only to nibble a pen tomake poetry, and only to mount a stump to be a speaker. Now, Abe, speakfor the cause of the people, or anybody's cause. Give it to us strong, and we will do the cheering. "

Abraham mounted a stump in the school-grounds, on which he had oftendeclaimed before. He felt something stirring within him, half-fledgedwings of his soul, that waited a cause. He would imitate the fewpreachers and speakers that he had heard--even an old Kentucky preachernamed Elkins, whom his own mother had loved, and whose teachings thegood woman had followed in her short and melancholy life. 

He began his speech, throwing up his long arms, and lifting at properperiods his coon-skin cap. The scholars cheered as he waxed earnest. Inthe midst of the speech a turtle came creeping into the grounds. 

"Hello!" said one of the boys, "here's another turtle come to school!He, too, has seen the need of learning. "

The terrapin crawled along awkwardly toward the house, his headprotruding from his shell, and his tail moving to and fro. 

At this point young Abraham grew loud and dramatic. The boys raised ashout, and the girls waved their hoods. 

In the midst of the enthusiasm, one of the boys seized the turtle by thetail and slung it around his head, as an evidence of his delight at theardor of the speaker. 

"Throw it at him, " said one of the scholars. "Johnson once threw aturtle at him, when he was preachin' to his sister, and it set him torunnin' on like a minister. "

Abraham was accustomed to preach to the young members of his family. Hewould do the preaching, and his sister the weeping; and he sometimesbecame so much affected by his own discourses that he would weep withher, and they would have a very "moving service, " as such a scene wascalled. 

The boy swung the turtle over his head again, and at last let go of itin the air, so as to project it toward Abraham. 

The poor reptile fell crushed at the foot of the stump and writhed inpain. 

Abraham ceased to speak. He looked down on the pitiful sight ofsuffering, and his heart yearned over the helpless creature, and thenhis brain became fired, and his eyes flashed with rage. 

"Who did that?" he exclaimed. "Brute! coward! wretch!" He looked downagain, and saw the reptile trying to move away with its broken shell. His anger turned to pity. He began to expostulate against all suchheartlessness to the animal world as the scene exhibited before him. Thepoor turtle again tried to move away, his head just protruding, lookingfor some way out of the world that would deny him his right to thesunshine and the streams. The young orator saw it all; his lip curledbitterly, and his words burned. He awakened such a sympathy for thereptile, and such a feeling of resentment against the hand which hadruined this little life, that the offender shrank away from the scene, calling out defiantly:

"Come away, and let him talk. He's only chicken-hearted. "

The scholars knew that there was no cowardice in the heart of Lincoln. They felt the force of the scene. The boys and girls of AndrewCrawford's school never forgot the pleas that Abraham used to make forthe animals and reptiles of the woods and streams. 

Nearly every youth exhibits his leading trait or characteristic in hisschool-days. 

"The tenor of our whole lives, " said an English poet, "is what we makeit in the first five years after we become our masters"; and a wiserthan he has said, "The thing that has been is, and God requireth thepast. " Columbus on the quays of Genoa; Zinzendorf forming among hislittle companions the order of the "Grain of Mustard-Seed"; the poetswho "lisped in numbers"; the boy statesmanship of Cromwell; and theearly aspiration of nearly every great leader of mankind--all showed thecurrent of the life-stream, and it is the current alone that knows andprophesies the future. When Abraham Lincoln fell, the world uncoveredits head. Thrones were sorrowful, and humanity wept. Yet his earliestrostrum was a stump, and his cause the natural rights of the voicelessinhabitants of the woods and streams. The heart that throbbed forhumanity, and that won the heart of the world, found its first utterancein defense of the principles of the birds'-nest commandment. It was abeginning of self-education worthy of the thought of a Pestalozzi. Itwas a prophecy. 

As the young advocate of the rights and feelings of the dumb creationwas ending his fiery discourse, the buttonless Tunker, himself adisciple of Pestalozzi, came into the school-grounds and read themeaning of the scene. Jasper saw the soul of things, and turned alwaysfrom the outward expressions of life to the inward motive. He read thetrue character of the boy in buckskin breeches, human heart, and fluenttongue. He sat down on the log step of the school-house in silence, andMr. Crawford presently came out with a quill pen behind his ear, and satdown beside him. 

"That boy has been teaching what you and I ought first to teach, " saidJasper. 

"What is that?" asked Mr. Crawford. 

"The heart! What is head-learning worth, if the heart is leftuneducated? As Pestalozzi used to say, The soul is the true end of alleducation. Religion itself is a failure, without right character. "

"But you wouldn't teach morals as a science, would you?"

"I would train the heart to feel, and the soul to love to be just and doright, and make obedience to the moral sense the habit of life. Thiscan best be done at the school age, and I tell you that this is thehighest education. A boy who can spell all the words in thespelling-book, and bound all the countries in the world, and repeat allthe dates of history, and yet who could have the heart to crush aturtle, has not been properly educated. "

"Then your view is that the end of education is to make a young persondo right?"

"No, my good friend, pardon me if I speak plain. The end of education isnot to _make_ young people do right, but to train the young heart tolove to do right; to make right doing the nature and habit of life. "

"How would you begin?"

"As that boy has begun. He has made every heart on the ground feel forthat broken-shelled turtle. That boy will one day become a leader amongmen. He has a heart. The head may make friends, but only the heart canhold them. It is the heart-power that serves and rules. The best thingthat can be said of any one is, 'He is true-hearted. ' I like that boy. He is true-hearted. His first client a turtle, it may not be his last. Train him well. He will honor you some day. "

The boys took the turtle to the pond and left him on the bank. Jasperwatched them. He then turned to the backwoods teacher, and said:

"That, sir, is the result of right education. First teach character;second, life; third, books. Let education begin in the heart, andeverybody made to feel that right makes might. "

CHAPTER V. 

JASPER COBBLES FOR AUNT OLIVE. --HER QUEER STORIES. 

Aunt Olive Eastman had made herself a relative to every one livingbetween the two Pigeon Creeks. She had formed this large acquaintancewith the pioneers by attending the camp-meetings of the Methodists andthe four-days' meetings of the Baptists in southern Indiana, and theschool-house meetings everywhere. She was a widow, was full of rudeenergy and benevolence, had a sharp tongue, a kindly heart, and ameasure of good sense. But she was "far from perfect, " as she used tovery humbly acknowledge in the many pioneer meetings that she attended. 

"I make mistakes sometimes, " she used to say, "and it is because I am afallible creatur'. "

She was an always busy woman, and the text of her life was "Work, " andher practice was in harmony with her teaching. 

"Work, work, my friends and brethren, " she once said in the logschool-house meeting. "Work while the day is passin'. We's all childrenof the clay. To-day we're here smart as pepper-grass, and to-morrerwe're gone like the cucumbers of the ground. Up, and be doin'--up, andbe doin'!"

One morning Jasper the Tunker appeared in the clearing before hercabin. She stood in the door as he appeared, shading her eyes with onehand and holding a birch broom in the other. The sunset was flooding theswollen creek in the distance, and shimmering in the tops of the ancienttrees. Jasper turned to the door. 

"This is a lovely morning, " said he. "The heavens are blue above us. Ihope that you are well. "

"The top of the morning to you! You are a stranger that I met the otherday, I suppose. I've been hopin' you'd come along and see me. Where doyou hail from, anyway? Come in and tell me all about it. "

"I am a German, " said Jasper, entering. "I came from Germany toPennsylvania, and went from there to Ohio, and now I am here, as yousee. "

"How far are you goin'? Or are you just goin' to stop with us here?Southern Injiany is a goodly country. 'Tis all land around here, for_millions_ of miles, and free as the air. Perhaps you'll stop with us. "

"I am going to Rock Island, on the Mississippi River, across the prairieof the Illinois. "

"Who are you now, may it please you? What's your callin'? Tell me allabout it, now. I want to know. "

"I am one of the Brethren, as I said. I preach and teach and cobble. Icame here now to ask you if you had any shoe-making for me to do. "

"One of the Tunkers--a Tunker, one o' them. Don't belong to no sect, nornothin', but just preaches to everybody as though everybody was alike, and wanders about everywhere, as if you owned the whole world, like theair. I've seen several Tunkers in my day. They are becomin' thick inthese woods. Well, I believe such as you mean well--let's be charitable;we haven't long to live in this troublesome world. I'm fryin' doughnuts;am just waitin' for the fat to heat. Hope you didn't think that I waswastin' time, standin' there at the door? I'll give you some doughnutsas soon as the fat is hot--fresh ones and good ones, too. I make gooddoughnuts, just such as Martha used to make in Jerusalem. I've frieddoughnuts for a hundred ministers in my day, and they all say that mydoughnuts are good, whatever they may think of me. Come in. I'm properglad to see ye. "

Jasper sat down in the kitchen of the cabin. The room was large, and hada delightful atmosphere of order and neatness. Over the fire swung animmense iron crane, and on the crane were pot-hooks of various sizes, and on one of these hung a kettle of bubbling fat. 

The table was spread with a large dish of dough, a board called akneading-board, a rolling-pin, and a large sheet of dough which had beenrolled into its present form by the rolling-pin, which utensil was whitewith flour. 

"I knew you were comin', " said Aunt Olive. "I dropped my rollin'-pinthis mornin'; it's a sure sign. You said that you are goin' to RockIsland. The Injuns live there, don't they? What are ye goin' there for?"

"Black Hawk has invited me. He has promised to let me have an Indianguide, or runner, who can speak English and interpret. I'm going toteach among the tribes, the Lord willing, and I want a guide and aninterpreter. "

"Black Hawk? He was born down in Kaskaskia, the old Jesuit town, 'wayback almost a century ago, wasn't he? Or was it in the Sac village? Hewas a Pottawattomie, I'm told, and then I've heard he wasn't. Now he'schief of the Sacs and Foxes. I saw him once at a camp-meetin'. His faceis black as that pot and these hooks and trummels. How he did skeer me!Do you dare to trust him? Like enough he'll kill ye, some day. I don'ttrust no Injuns. Where did you stay last night?"

"At Mr. Lincoln's. "

"Tom Linken's. Pretty poor accommodations you must have had. They'reawful poor folks. Mrs. Linken is a nice woman, but Tom he is shiftless, and he's bringin' up that great tall boy Abe to be lazy, too. That boyis good to his mother, but he all runs to books and larnin', just assome turnips all run to tops. You've seen 'em so, haven't ye?"

"But the boy has got character, and character is everything in thisworld. "

"Did you notice anything _peculiarsome_ about him? His cousin, DennisHanks, says there's something peculiarsome about him. I never did. "

"My good woman, do you believe in gifts?"

"No, I believe in works. I believe in people whose two fists are full ofworks. Mine are, like the Marthas of old. "

Aunt Olive rolled up her sleeves, and began to cut the thin layer ofdough with a knife into long strips, which she twisted. 

"I'm goin' to make some twisted doughnuts, " she said, "seein' you're apreacher and a teacher. "

"I think that young lad Lincoln has some inborn gift, and that he willbecome a leader among men. It is he who is willing to serve that rules, and they who deny themselves the most receive the most from Heaven andmen. He has sympathetic wisdom. I can see it. There is somethingpeculiar about him. He is true. "

"Oh, don't you talk that way. He's lazy, and he hain't got anycalculation, 'n' he'll never amount to shucks, nor nothin'. He's likehis father, his head in the air. Somethin' don't come of nothin' in thisworld; corn don't grow unless you plant it; and when you add nothin' tonothin' it just makes nothin'. 

"Well, preacher, you've told me who you are, and now I'll tell ye who Iam. But first, let me say, I'll have a pair of shoes. I have my ownlast. I'll get it for you, and then you can be peggin' away, so as notto lose any time. It is wicked to waste time. 'Work' is my motto. That'swhat time is made for. "

Aunt Olive got her last. The fat was hot by this time--"all sizzlin', "as she said. 

"There, preacher, this is the last, and there is the board on which myhusband used to sew shoes, wax and all. Now I will go to fryin' mydoughnuts, and you and I can be workin' away at the same time, and I'lltell ye who I am. Work away--work away!

"I'm a widder. You married? A widower? Well, that ain't nothin' to me. Work away--work away!

"I came from old Hingham, near Boston. You've heard of Boston? That wasbefore I was married. Our family came to Ohio first, then we heard thatthere was better land in Injiany, and we moved on down the Ohio Riverand came here. There was only one other family in these parts at thattime. That was folks by the name of Eastman. They had a likely smartboy by the name of Polk--Polk Eastman. He grew up and became lonesome. Igrew up and became lonesome, and so we concluded that we'd make a hometogether--here it is--and try to cheer each other. Listenin', be ye?Yes? Well, my doughnuts are fryin' splendid. Work away--work away!

"A curious time we had of it when we went to get married. There was aminister named Penney, who preached in a log church up in Kentuck, andwe started one spring mornin', something like this, to get him to marryus. We had but one horse for the journey. I rode on a kind of a secondsaddle behind Polk, and we started off as happy as prairie plovers. Ablue sky was over the timber, and the bushes were all alive with birds, and there were little flowers runnin' everywhere among the new grass andthe moss. It seemed as though all the world was for us, and that theLord was good. I've seen lots of trouble since then. My heart has grownheavy with sorrow. It was then as light as air. Work away!

"Well, the minister Penney lived across the Kentuck, and when we came tothe river opposite his place the water was so deep that we couldn't fordit. There had been spring freshets. It was an evenin' in April. Therewas a large moon, and the weather was mild and beautiful. We could seethe pine-knots burnin' in Parson Penney's cabin, so that we knew that hewas there, but didn't see him. 

"'What are we to do now?' Polk said he. 'We'll have to go home again, 'banterin'-like. "

"'Holler, ' said I. 'Blow the horn!' We had taken a horn along with us. He gave a piercin' blast, and I shouted out, 'Elder Penney! ElderPenney!'

"The door of the cabin over the river opened, and the elder came out andstood there, mysterious-like, in the light of the fire. 

"'Who be ye?' he called. 'Hallo! What is wanted?'

"'We're comin' to be married!' shouted Polk. 'Comin' to bemarried--_married_! How shall we get across the river?'

"'The ford's too deep. Can't be done. Who be ye?' shouted the elder. 

"'I'm Polk Eastman--Polk Eastman!' shouted Polk. 

"'I'm Olive Pratt--Olive Pratt--Olive!' shouted I. 

"'Well, you just stay where you be, and I'll marry you there. '

"So he began shouting at the top of his voice:

"'Do you, Olive Pratt, take that there man, over there on the horse, tobe your husband? Hey?'

"I shouted back, 'Yes, sir!'

"'Do you, Polk Eastman, take that there woman, over there on the horse, to be your wife?'

"Polk shouted back, 'Yes, elder, that is what I came for!'

"'Then, ' shouted the minister, 'join your right hands. '

"Polk put up his hand over his shoulder, and I took it; and the horse, seein' his advantage, went to nibblin' young sprouts. The elder thenshouted:

"'I pronounce you husband and wife. You can go home now, and I'll make arecord of it, and my wife shall witness it. Good luck to you! Let uspray. '

[Illustration: AUNT OLIVE'S WEDDING. ]

"Polk hitched up the reins and the horse stood still. How solemn itseemed! The woods were still and shady. You could hear the water rushingin the timber. The full moon hung in the clear sky over the river, andseemed to lay on the water like a sparkling boat. I was happy then. Onour journey home we were chased by a bear. I don't think that the bearwould have hurt us, but the scent of him frightened the horse and madehim run like a deer. 

"Well, we portaged a stream at midnight, just as the moon was goingdown. We made our curtilage here, and here we lived happy until husbanddied of a fever. I'm a middlin' good woman. I go to all the meetin'sround, and wake 'em up. I've got a powerful tongue, and there isn't alazy bone in my whole body. Work away--work away! That's the way to getalong in the world. Peg away!"

While Aunt Olive had been relating this odd story, John Hanks, a cousinof the Lincolns, had come quietly to the door, and entered and sat downbeside the Tunker. He had come to Indiana from Kentucky when Abraham wasfourteen years of age, and he made his home with the Lincolns for fouryears, when he went to Illinois, and was enthused by the wonders ofprairie farming. It was Uncle John who gave to Abraham Lincoln the nameof rail-splitter. He loved the boy Lincoln, and led his heart away tothe rich prairies of Illinois a few years after the present scenes. 

"He and I, " he once said of Abraham, "worked barefooted, grubbed, plowed, mowed, and cradled together. When we returned from the field, hewould snatch a piece of corn-bread, sit down on a chair, with his feetelevated, and read. He read constantly. "

This man had heard Aunt Olive--Indiana, or "Injiany, " he calledher--relate her marriage experiences many times. He was not interestedin the old story, but he took a keen delight in observing the curiosityand surprise that such a novel tale awakened in the mind of the Tunker. 

"This is very extraordinary, " said the Tunker, "very extraordinary. Wedo not have in Germany any stories like that. I hardly know what mypeople would say to such a story as that. This is a very extraordinarycountry--very extraordinary. "

"I can tell you a wedding story worth two o' that, " said Uncle JohnHanks. "Why, that ain't nowhere to it. --Now, Aunt Injiany, you wait, andset still. I'm goin' to tell the elder about the 'TWO TURKEY-CALLS. '"

The Tunker only said, "This is all very extraordinary. " Uncle Johncrossed his legs and bent forward his long whiskers, stretched out onearm, and was about to begin, when Aunt Olive said:

"You wait, John Hanks--you wait. I'm goin' to tell the elder that therestory myself. "

John Hanks never disputed with Aunt Olive. 

"Well, tell it, " said he, and the backwoods woman began:

"'Tis a master-place to get married out here. There's a great many moremen than women in the timber, and the men get lonesome-like, and no manis a whole man without a wife. Men ought not to live alone anywhere. They can not out here. Well, well, the timber is full of wild turkeys, especially in the fall of the year, but they are hard to shoot. The bestway to get a shot at a turkey is by a turkey-call. You never heard one, did you? You are not to blame for bein' ignorant. It is like this--"

Aunt Indiana put her hands to her mouth like a shell, and blew a low, mysterious whistle. 

"Well, there came a young settler from Kentucky and took up a claim onPigeon Creek; and there came a widow from Ohio and took a claim aboutthree miles this side of him, and neither had seen the other. Well, well, one shiny autumn mornin' each of them took in to their heads to goout turkey-huntin', and curiously enough each started along the creektoward each other. The girl's name was Nancy, and the man's name wasAlbert. Nancy started down the creek, and Albert up the creek, and eachhad a right good rifle. 

"Nancy stood still as soon as she found a hollow place in the timber, put up her hand--_so_--and made a turkey-call--_so_--and listened. 

"Albert heard the call in the hollow timber, though he was almost a mileaway, and he put up his hands--_so_--and answered--_so_. 

"'A turkey, ' said Nancy, said she. 'I wish I had a turkey to cook. '

"'A turkey, ' said Albert, said he. 'I wish I had some one at home tocook a turkey. '

"Then each stole along slowly toward the other, through the hollowtimber. 

"It was just a lovely mornin'. Jays were callin', and nuts were fallin', and the trees were all yellow and red, and the air put life into you, and made you feel as though you would live forever. 

"Well, they both of them stopped again, Nancy and Albert. Nancy shecalled--_so_--and Albert--_so_. 

"'A turkey, sure, ' said Nancy. 

"'A turkey, sure, ' said Albert. 

"Then each went forward a little, and stopped and called again. 

"They were so near each other now that each began to hide behind thethicket, so that neither might scare the turkey. 

"Well, each was scootin' along with head bowed--_so_--gun inhand--_so_--one wishin' for a husband and one for a wife, and each for agood fat turkey, when what should each hear but a voice in a tree! Itwas a very solemn voice, and it said:

"'Quit!'

"Each thought there was a scared turkey somewhere, and each became morestealthy and cautious, and there was a long silence. 

"At last Nancy she called again--_so_--and Albert he answeredher--_so_--and each thought there was a turkey within shootin' distance, and each crept along a little nearer each other. 

"At last Nancy saw the bushes stir a few rods in front of her, andraised her gun into position, still hiding in the tangle. Albertdiscovered a movement in front of him, and he took the same position. 

"Nancy was sure she could see something dark before her, and that itmust be the turkey in the tangle. She put her finger on the lock of thegun, when a voice in the air said:

"'Quit!'

"'It's a turkey in the tops of the timber, ' thought she, 'and he iswatchin' me, and warnin' the other turkey. '

"Albert, too, was preparin' to shoot in the tangle when the commandfrom the tree-top came. Each thought it would be well to reconnoiter alittle, so as to get a better shot. 

"Nancy kneeled down on the moss among the red-berry bushes, and peekedcautiously through an openin' in the tangle. What was that?

"A hat? Yes, it was a hat!

"Albert he peeked through another openin', and his heart sunk like astone within him. What was that? A bonnet? Yes, it was a bonnet!

"Was ever such a thing as that seen before in the timber? Bears had beenseen, and catamounts, and prairie wolves, but a bonnet! He drew back hisgun. Just then there came another command from the tree-top:

"'Quit!'

"Now, would you believe it? Well, two guns were discharged at thatturkey in the tree, and it came tumblin' down, a twenty-pounder, dead asa stone. 

"Nancy run toward it. Albert run towards it. 

"'It's yourn, ' said Nancy. 

"'It's yourn, ' said Albert. 

"Each looked at the other. 

"Nancy looked real pink and pretty, and Albert he looked real noble andhandsome-like. 

"'I'm thinkin', ' said Albert, 'it kind o' belongs to both of us. '

"'So I think, too, ' said Nancy, said she. 'Come over to my cabin andI'll cook it for ye. I'm an honest girl, I am. '

"The two went along as chipper as two squirrels. The creek looked reallypretty to 'em, and the prairie was all a-glitter with frost, and thesky was all pleasant-like, and you know the rest. There, now. They'relivin' there yet. Just like poetry--wasn't it, now?"

"Very extraordinary, " said the Tunker, "very! I never read a novel likethat. Very extraordinary!"

A tall, lank, wiry boy came up to the door. 

"Abe, I do declare!" said Aunt Olive. "Come in. I'm makin' doughnuts, and you sha'n't have one of them. I make Scriptur' doughnuts, and theScriptur' says if a man spends his time porin' over books, of whichthere is no end, neither shall he eat, or somethin' like that--now don'tit, elder?--But seein' it's you, Abe, and you are a pretty good boy, after all, when people are in trouble, and sick and such, I'll make youan elephant. There ain't any elephants in Injiany. "

Aunt Olive cut a piece of doughnut dough in the shape of a picture-bookelephant and tossed it into the fat. It swelled up to enormousproportions, and when she scooped it out with a ladle it was, for adoughnut, an elephant indeed. 

"Now, Abe, there's your elephant. --And, elder, here's a whole pan fullof twisted doughnuts. You said that you were goin' to meet Black Hawk. Where does he live? Tell us all about him. "

"I will do so, my good woman, " said Jasper. "I want you to be interestedin my Indian missions. When I come this way again, I shall be likely tobring with me an Indian guide, an uncommon boy, I am told. You shallhear my story. "

CHAPTER VI. 

JASPER GIVES AN ACCOUNT OF HIS VISIT TO BLACK HAWK. --AUNT INDIANA'S WIG. 

Aunt Indiana, Jasper, John Hanks, and young Abraham Lincoln sat betweenthe dying logs in the great fireplace and the open door. The company wasafter a little time increased for Thomas Lincoln came slowly into theclearing, and saying, "How-dy?" and "The top of the day to ye all, " satdown in the sunshine on the log step; and soon after came Dennis Hanksand dropped down on a puncheon. 

"I think that you are misled, " said Jasper, "when you say that BlackHawk was born at Kaskaskia. If I remember rightly, he said to me: 'I wasborn in this Sac village. Here I spent my youth; my fathers' graves arehere, and the graves of my children, and here where I was born I wish todie. ' Rock Island, as the northern islands, rapids, and bluffs of theMississippi are called, is a very beautiful place. Black Hawk clings tothe spot as to his life. 'I love to look down, ' he said, 'upon the bigrivers, shady groves, and green prairies from the graves of my fathers, 'and I do not wonder at this feeling. His blood is the same and hisrights are the same as any other king, and he loves Nature and has aheart. 

"It is my calling to teach and preach among the Indians and new townsof Illinois. This call came to me in Pennsylvania. God willed it, and Ihad no will but to obey. I heard the Voice within, just as I heard it inGermany on the Rhine. _There_ it said, 'Go to America. ' In Pennsylvaniait said, 'Go to the Illinois. '

"I went. I have walked all the way, teaching and preaching in the logschool-houses. I sowed the good seed, and left the harvest to theheavens. Why should I be anxious in regard to the result? I walk byfaith, and I know what the result will be in God's good time, withoutseeking for it. Why should I stop to number the people? I know. 

"I wanted an Indian guide and interpreter, and the inward Voice told meto go to Black Hawk and secure one from the chief himself. So I went tothe bluffs of the Mississippi, and told Black Hawk all my heart, and helet me preach in his lodges, and I made some strong winter shoes forhim, and tried to teach the children by signs. So I was fed by theravens of the air. He had no interpreter or runner such as he wouldtrust to go with me; but he told me if I would return in the May moon, he would provide me one. He said that it would be a boy by the name ofWaubeno, whose father was a noble warrior and had had a strange andmysterious history. The boy was then traveling with an old uncle by thename of Main-Pogue. These names sound strange to German ears: Waubenoand Main-Pogue! I promised to return in May. I am on my way. 

"If I get the boy Waubeno--and the Voice within tells me that I will--Iintend to travel a circuit, round and round, round and round, teachingand preaching. I can see my circuit now in my mind. This is the map ofit: From Rock Island to Fort Dearborn (Chicago); from Fort Dearborn tothe Ohio, which will bring me here again; and from the Ohio to theMississippi, and back to Rock Island, and so round and round, round andround. Do you see?"

The homely travels of Thomas Lincoln and the limited geography of AndrewCrawford had not prepared Jasper's audience to see even this smallcircuit very distinctly. Thomas Lincoln, like the dwellers in theScandinavian valleys, doubtless believed that there "are people beyondthe mountains, _also_" but he knew little of the world outside ofKentucky and Illinois. Mrs. Eastman was quite intelligent in regard toNew England and the Middle States, but the West to her mind was simplyland--"oceans of it, " as she expressed herself--"where every one was atliberty to choose without infringin' upon anybody. "

"Don't you ever stop to build up churches?" said Mrs. Eastman to Jasper. 

"No. "

"You just baptize 'em, and let 'em run. That's what I can't understand. I can't get at it. What are you really doin'? Now, say?"

"I am the Voice in the wilderness, preparing the way. "

"No family name?"

"No. What have I to do with a name?"

"No money?"

"Only what I earn. "

"That's queerer yet. Well, you are just the man to preach to theuninhabited places of the earth. Tell us more about Black Hawk. I wantto hear of him, although we all are wastin' a pile of time when we allought to be to work. Tell us about Black Hawk, and then we'll all up andbe doin'. My fire is goin' out now. "

"He's a revengeful critter, that Black Hawk, " said Thomas Lincoln, "andyou had better be pretty wary of him. You don't know Indians. He's aflint full of fire, so people say that come to the smithy. You lookout. "

"He has had his wrongs, " said Jasper, "and he has been led by his animalnature to try to avenge them. Had he listened to the higher teachings ofthe soul, it might have been different. We should teach him. "

"What was it that set him against white folks?" asked Mrs. Eastman. 

"He told me the whole story, " said Jasper, "and it made my heart bleedfor him. He's a child of Nature, and has a great soul, but it needs ateacher. The Indians need teachers. I am sent to teach in thewilderness, and to be fed by the birds of the air. I am sent from overthe sea. But listen to the tale of Black Hawk. You complain of yourwrongs, don't you? Why should not he?

"Years ago Black Hawk had an old friend whom he dearly loved, for thefriendships of Indians are ardent and noble. That friend had a boy, andBlack Hawk loved this boy and adopted him as his own, and became as afather to him, and taught him to hunt and to go to war. When Black Hawkjoined the British he wished to take this boy with him to Canada; buthis own father said that he needed him to care for him in his old age, to fish and to hunt for him. He said, moreover, that he did not likehis boy to fight against the Americans, who had always treated himkindly. So Black Hawk left the boy with his old father. 

"On his return to Rock River and the bluffs of the Mississippi, afterthe war on the lakes, and as he was approaching his own town in thesunset, he chanced to notice a column of white smoke curling from ahollow in one of the bluffs. He stepped aside to see what was there. Ashe looked over the bluff he saw a fire, and an aged Indian sitting aloneon a prayer-mat before it, as though humbling himself before the GreatSpirit. He went down to the place and found that the man was his oldfriend. 

"'How came you here?' asked Black Hawk. But, although the old Indian'slip moved, he received no answer. 

"'What has happened?' asked Black Hawk. 

"There was a pitiful look in the old man's eyes, but this was his onlyreply. The old Indian seemed scarcely alive. Black Hawk brought somewater to him. It revived him. His consciousness and memory seemed toreturn. He looked up. With staring eyes he said, suddenly:

"'Thou art Black Hawk! O Black Hawk, Black Hawk, my old friend, he isgone!'

"'Who has gone?'

"'The life of my heart is gone, he whom you used to love. Gone, like amaple-leaf. Gone! Listen, O Black Hawk, listen. 

"'After you went away to fight for the British, I came down the river atthe request of the pale-faces to winter there. When I arrived I foundthat the white people had built a fort there. I went to the fort withmy son to tell the people that we were friendly. "

"'The white war-chief received me kindly, and told us that we might hunton this side of the Mississippi, and that he would protect us. So wemade our camp there. We lived happy, and we loved to talk of you, OBlack Hawk!

"'We were there two moons, when my boy went to hunt one day, unsuspicious of any danger. We thought the white man spoke true. Nightcame, and he did not return. I could not sleep that night. In themorning I sent out the old woman to the near lodges to give an alarm, and say that my boy must be sought. 

"'There was a band formed to hunt for him. Snow was on the ground, andthey found his tracks--my boy's tracks. They followed them, and saw thathe had been pursuing a deer to the river. They came upon the deer, whichhe had killed and left hanging on the branch of a tree. It was as he hadleft it. 

"'But here they found the tracks of the white man. The pale-faces hadbeen there, and had taken our boy prisoner. They followed the tracks andthey found him. O Black Hawk! he was dead--my boy! The white men hadmurdered him for killing the deer near the fort; and the land was ours. His face was all shot to pieces. His body was stabbed through andthrough, and they had torn the hair from his head. They had tied hishands behind him before they murdered him. Black Hawk, my heart is dead. What do the hawks in the sky say?'

"The old Indian fell into a stupor, from which he soon expired. BlackHawk watched over his body during the night, and the next day he buriedit upon the bluff. It was at that grave that Black Hawk listened to thehawks in the sky, and vowed vengeance against the white people forever, and summoned his warriors for slaughter. "

"He's a hard Indian, " said Thomas Lincoln. "Don't you trust Black Hawk. You don't know him. "

"Hard? Yes, but did not your brother Mordecai make the same vow andfollow the same course after the murder of your father by the Indians? Aslayer of man is a slayer of man whoever and wherever he may be. May thegospel bring the day when the shedding of human blood will cease! Butthe times are still evil. The world waits still for the manifestation ofthe sons of God; as of old it waits. I have given all I am to theteaching of the gospel of peace. The Indians need it; you need it, allof you. You do the same things that the savages do. "

"Just hear him!" said Aunt Indiana. --"Who are you preachin' to, elder?Callin' us savages! I'm an exhorter myself, I'd like to have you know. Icould exhort _you_. Savages? We know Indians here better than you do. You wait. "

"Let me tell you a story now, " said Thomas Lincoln. 

"Of course you will, " said Aunt Indiana. "Thomas Lincoln never heard astory told without telling another one to match it; and Abe, here, isjust like him. The thing that has been, is, as the Scriptur' says. "

_AN ASTONISHED INDIAN. _

"Well, " said Thomas Lincoln, "I hain't no faith at all, elder, inInjuns. I once knew of a woman in Kentuck, in my father's day, who knewenough for 'em, and the way that she cleared 'em out showed an amazin'amount of spirit. Women was women in Daniel Boone's time, in oldKentuck. The Injuns found 'em up and doin', and they learned to sidleaway pretty rapid-like when they met a sun-bonnet. 

"Well, as I was sayin', this was in my father's time. The Injuns wereprowlin' about pretty plenty then, and one day one of 'em came, allfeathers and paint, and whoops and prancin's, to a house owned by a Mr. Daviess, and found that the man of the house was gone. 

"But the wimmin-folks were at home--Mrs. Daviess and the children. Well, the Injun came on like a champion, swingin' his tommyhawk and liftin'his heels high. The only weapon that the good woman had was a bottle ofwhisky. 

"Well, whisky is a good weapon sometimes--there's many a man that hasfound it a slow gunpowder. Well, this woman, as I was sayin', had herwits about her. What do you think that she did?

"Well, she just brought out the whisky-bottle, and held it up beforehim--_so_. It made his eyes sparkle, you may be sure of that!

"'Fire-water, ' said she, 'mighty temptin'. 

"'Ugh!' said the Indian, all humps and antics and eyes. 

"Ugh! Did you ever hear an Injun say that--'Ugh?'

"'Have some?' said she. 

"Have some? Of course he did. 

"She got a glass and put it on the table, and then she uncorked thebottle and _handed_ it to him to pour out the whisky. He lost his witsat once. 

"He set down his gun to pour out a dram, all giddy, when Mrs. Daviessseized the shooter and lifted it up quick as a flash and pointed to hishead. 

"'Set that down, or I'll fire! Set that bottle down!'

"The poor Injun's jaw dropped. He set down the bottle, looked wild, andbegged for his life. 

"'Set still, ' said she; and he looked at the whisky-bottle and thenslunk all up in a heap and remained silent as a dead man until Mr. Daviess came home, when he was allowed to crawl away into the forest. Hegave one parting look at the bottle, but he never wanted to see a whitewoman again, I'll be bound. "

"You ridicule the Indian for his love of whisky, " said the Tunker, "butwho taught him to love it? Woe unto the world because of offenses. "

"Hello!" said John Hanks, starting up. "Here comes Johnnie Kongapodagain, from the Illinois. I like to see any one from Illinois, even ifhe is an Indian. I'm goin' there myself some day. I've a great opinionof that there prairie country--hain't you, elder?"

"Yes, it is a garden of wild flowers that seems as wide as the sky. Itcan all be turned into green, and it will be some day. "

Aunt Indiana greeted the Indian civilly, and the Tunker held out hishand to him. 

"Elder, " said Aunt Indiana, "I must tell you one of my own experiences, now that Johnnie Kongapod has come--the one that they bantered me aboutover to the smithy. Johnnie and I are old friends. I used to be a kindof travelin' preacher myself; I am now--I go to camp-meetin's, and Ialways do my duty. 

"Well, a few years ago, durin' the Injun troubles, there was goin' to bea camp-meetin' on the Illinois side, and I wanted to go. Now, JohnnieKongapod is a good Injun, and I arranged with him that he should go withme. 

"You didn't know that I wore a wig, did ye, elder? No? Well, most peopledon't. I have had to wear a wig ever since I had the scarlet fever, whenI was a girl. I'm kind o' ashamed to tell of it, I've so much nateralpride, but have to speak of it when I tell this story. 

"Johnnie Kongapod never saw a wig before I showed him mine, and I nevershowed it to him until I had to. 

"Well, he came over from Illinois, and we started off together to thecamp-meetin'. It was a lovely time on the prairies. The grass was allripe and wavin', and the creeks were all alive with ducks, and therewere prairie chickens everywhere. I felt very brisk and chipper. 

"We had two smart horses, and we cantered along. I sang hymns, and sorto' preached to Johnnie, when all at once we saw a shadow on the prairielike a cloud, and who should come ridin' up but three Injuns! I wasterribly frightened. I could see that they were hostile Injuns--Sacs, from Black Hawk. One of them swung his tommyhawk in the air, and madesigns that he was goin' to scalp me. Johnnie began to beg for me, and Ithought that my last hour had come. 

"The Injun wheeled his pony, rode away, then turned and came dashin'towards me, with tommyhawk lifted. 

"'Me scalp!' said he, as he dashed by me. Then he turned his horse andcame plungin' towards me again. 

"Elder, what do you think I did? I snatched off my bonnet and threw itupon the ground. Then I grabbed my wig, held it up in the air, and whenthe Injun came rushin' by I held it out to him. 

"'There it is, ' said I. 

"Well--would you believe it?--that Injun gave one glance at it, and putspurs to his horse, and he never stopped runnin' till he was out ofsight. The two other Injuns took one look at my wig as I held it out inmy hand. 

"'Scalped herself!' said one. 

"'Took her head off!' said the other. 'She conjur's!'

"They spurred their horses and flew over the prairie like the wind. And--and--must I say it?--Johnnie Kongapod--he ran too; and so I put onmy wig, picked up my sun-bonnet, and turned and came home again. 

"There are some doughnuts, Johnnie Kongapod, if you did desert me. 

"Elder, this is a strange country. And don't you believe any storiesabout honest Injuns that the law condemns, and that go home to see theirfamilies overnight and return again; you will travel a long way, elder, before you find any people of that kind, Injuns or white folks. I know. I haven't lived fifty years in this troublesome world for nothin'. People who live up in the air, as you do, elder, have to come down. I'msorry. You mean well!"

Johnnie Kongapod arose, lifted his brown arm silently, and, bending hisearnest face on Jasper, said:

"_That_ story is true. You will know. Time tells the truth. Wait!"

"Return in the morning to be shot!" said Aunt Olive. "Injuns don't dothat way here. When I started for Injiany I was told of a mother-in-lawwho was so good that all her daughters' husbands asked her to come andlive with them. They said she moved to Injiany. Now, I have traveledabout this State to all the camp-meetin's, and I never found heranywhere. Stands to reason that no such story as that is true. You'llhave to travel a long way, elder, before you find any people of thatkind in these parts. "

Whom was Jasper to believe--the confident Indian or the pioneers?

CHAPTER VII. 

THE EXAMINATION AT CRAWFORD'S SCHOOL. 

Examination-day is an important time in country schools, and it excitedmore interest seventy years ago than now. Andrew Crawford was alwaysambitious that this day should do credit to his faithful work, and hispupils caught his inspiration. 

There were great preparations for the examination at Crawford's thisspring. The appearance of the German school-master in the place whocould read Latin was an event. Years after, when the pure gold of famewas no longer a glimmering vision or a current of fate, but a wonderfulfact, Abraham Lincoln wrote of such visits as Jasper's in the settlementa curious sentence in an odd hand in an autobiography, which wereproduce here:

[Illustration: If a straggler ^{supposed to understand latin?} happenedto sojourn in the neighborhood, he was looked upon as a wizzard--]

With such a "wizard" as Jasper in the settlement, who would certainlyattend the examination, it is no wonder that this special event excitedthe greatest interest in all the cabins between the two Pigeon Creeks ofsouthern Indiana. 

"May we decorate the school-house?" asked a girl of Mr. Crawford, beforethe appointed day. "May we decorate the school-house out of the woods?"

"I am chiefly desirous that you should decorate your minds out of thespelling-book, " said Mr. Crawford; "but it is a commendable thing tohave an eye to beauty, and to desire to present a good appearance. Yes, you may decorate the house out of the woods. "

The timber was green in places with a vine called creeping Jenney, andlaurels whose leaves were almost as green and waxy as those of theSouthern magnolia. The creeping Jenney could be entwined with thelaurel-leaves in such a way as to form long festoons. The boys and girlsspent the mornings and recesses for several days in gathering Jenney, and in twining the vines with the laurel and making decorative festoons. 

They hung these festoons about the wooden walls of the low building andover the door. Out of the tufts of boxberry leaves and plums they madethe word "Welcome, " which they hung over the door. They covered the rudechimney with pine-boughs, and in so doing filled the room with aresinous odor. They also covered the roof with boughs of evergreen. 

The spelling-book was not neglected in the preparations of the eventfulweek. There was to be a spelling-match on the day, and, although it wasalready felt that Abraham Lincoln would easily win, there was hard studyon the part of all. 

One afternoon, after school, in the midst of these heroic preparations, a party of the scholars were passing along the path in the timber. Adispute arose between two boys in regard to the spelling of a word. 

"I spelled it just as Crawford did, " said one. 

"No, you didn't. Crawford spelled it with a _i_. "

"He spelled it with a _y_, and that is just the way I spelled it. "

"He didn't, now, I know! I heard Crawford spell it himself. "

"He did!"

"Do you mean to tell me that I lie?"

"You do--it don't need telling. "

"I won't be called a liar by anybody. I'll make you ache for that!"

"We'll see about that. You may ache yourself before this thing issettled. I've got fists as well as you, and I will not take such wordsas that from anybody. Come on!"

The two backwoods knights rushed toward each other with a wounded senseof honor in their hearts and with uplifted arms. 

Suddenly a form like a giant passed between them. It took one boy underone of its arms and the other under the other, and strode down thetimber. 

"He called me a liar, " said one of the boys. "I won't stand that fromany _man_. "

"He _sassed_ me, " said the other, "and I won't stand any sassin', notwhile my fists are alive. "

"_You_ wouldn't be called a liar, " said the first. 

"Nor take any sassin', " said the second. 

The tall form in blue-jean shirt and leather breeches strode on, withthe two boys under its arms. 

"I beg!" at last said one of the boys. 

"I beg!" said the other. 

"Then I'll let you go, and we'll all be friends again!"

"Yes, Abraham, I'll give in, if he will. "

"I will. Let me go. "

The tall form dropped the two boys, and soon all was peace in theApril-like air. 

"Abraham Lincoln will never allow any quarrels in our school, " saidanother boy. "Where he is there has to be peace. It wouldn't be fair forhim to use his strength so, only he's always right; and when strength isright it is all for the best. "

The boy had a rather clear perception of the true principles of humangovernment. A will to do right and the power to enforce it, make nationsgreat as well as character powerful. 

The eventful day came, with blue-birds in the glimmering timber, and ablue sky over all. People came from a distance to attend theexamination, and were surprised to find the school-house changed into agreen bower. 

[Illustration: ABRAHAM AS A PEACE-MAKER. ]

The afternoon session had been assigned to receiving company, and thepupils awaited the guests with trembling expectation. It was a warm day, and the oiled paper that served for panes of glass in the windows hadbeen pushed aside to admit the air and make an outlook, and the door hadbeen left open. The first to arrive was Jasper. The school saw himcoming; but he looked so kindly, benevolent, and patriarchal, that theboys and girls did not stand greatly in awe of him. They seemed to feelinstinctively that he was their friend and was with them. But adifferent feeling came over them when 'Squire Gentry, of Gentryville, came cantering on a horse that looked like a war-charger. 'Squire Gentrywas a great man in those parts, and filled a continental space in theiryoung minds. The faces of all the scholars were turned silently anddeferently to their books when the 'Squire banged with his whip-handleon the door. Aunt Olive was next seen coming down the timber. She wasdressed in a manner to cause solicitude and trepidation. She wore knitmits, had a lofty poke bonnet, and a "checkered" gown gay enough for avalance, and, although it was yet very early spring, she carried aparasol over her head. There was deep interest in the books as her formalso darkened the festooned door. 

Then the pupils breathed freer. But only for a moment. Sarah Lincoln, Abraham's sister, looked out of the window, and beheld a sight which shewas not slow to communicate. 

"Abe, " she whispered, "look there!"

"Blue-nose Crawford, " whispered the tall boy, "as I live!"

In a few moments the school was all eyes and mouths. Blue-nose Crawfordbore the reputation of being a very hard taskmaster, and of holding tothe view that severe discipline was one of the virtues that wisdom oughtto visit upon the youth. He once lent to Abraham Lincoln Weems's "Lifeof Washington. " The boy read it with absorbing interest, but there camea driving storm, and the rain ran in the night through the walls of thelog-cabin and wet and warped the cover of the book. Blue-nose Crawfordcharged young Lincoln seventy-five cents for the damage done to thebook. "Abe, " as he was called, worked three days, at twenty-five cents aday, pulling fodder, to pay the fine. He said, long after this hardincident, that he did his work well, and that, although his feelingswere injured, he did not leave so much as a strip of fodder in thefield. 

"The class in reading may take their places, " said Andrew Crawford. 

It was a tall class, and it was provided with leather-covered EnglishReaders. One of the best readers in the class was a Miss Roby, a girl ofsome fifteen years of age, whom young Lincoln greatly liked, and whom hehad once helped at a spelling match, by putting his finger on his eye(_i_) when she had spelled _defied_ with a _y_. This girl read aselection with real pathos. 

"That gal reads well, " said Blue-nose Crawford, or Josiah Crawford, ashe should be called. "She ought to keep school. We're goin' to needteachers in Indiana. People are comin' fast. "

Miss Roby colored. She had indeed won a triumph of which every pupil ofSpencer County might be proud. 

"Now, Nathaniel, let's hear you read. You're a strappin' feller, and youought not to be outread by a gal. "

Nathaniel raised his book so as to hide his face, like one near-sighted. He spread his legs apart, and stood like a drum-major awaiting a word ofcommand. 

"You may read Section V in poetry, " said Mr. Crawford, the teacher. "Verses supposed to be written by Alexander Selkirk. Speak up loud, andmind your pauses. "

He did. 

"I am monarch of all I survey, " he began, in a tone of vocal thunder. Then he made a pause, a very long one. Josiah Crawford turned around ingreat surprise; and Aunt Olive planted the chair in which she had beensitting at a different angle, so that she could scrutinize the reader. 

The monarch of all he surveyed, which in the case of the boy was onlyone page of the English Reader, was diligently spelling out the nextline, which he proceeded to pronounce like one long word with surprisingvelocity:

"My-right-there-is-none-to-dispute. "

There was another pause. 

"Hold down your book, " said the master. 

"Yes, hold down your book, " said Josiah Crawford. "What do ye cover yerface for? There's nuthin' to be ashamed of. Now try again. "

Nathaniel lowered the book and revealed the singular struggle that wasgoing on in his mind. He had to spell out the words to himself, and indoing so his face was full of the most distressing grimaces. Heunconsciously lifted his eyebrows, squinted his eyes, and drew his mouthhither and thither. 

 "From the cen-t-e-r, center; center, all round _to_ the sea, I am lord of the f-o-w-l _and_-the-brute. "

The last line came to a sudden conclusion, and was followed by a verylong pause. 

"Go on, " said Andrew Crawford, the master. 

"Yes, go on, " said Josiah. "At the rate you're goin' now you won't getthrough by candle-light. "

Nathaniel lifted his eyebrows and uttered a curiously exciting--

"O"--

"That boy'll have a fit, " said Aunt Olive. "Don't let him read any more, for massy sake!"

"O--What's that word, master? S-o-l-i-t-u-d-e, so-li-tu-de. O--So-li-tu-de. "

"O Solitude, where are the charms?" read Mr. Andrew Crawford, "That sages have seen in thy face? Better dwell in the midst of alarms Than reign in this horrible place. "

Nathaniel followed the master like a race-horse. He went on smoothlyuntil he came to "this horrible place, " when his face assumed a startledexpression, like one who had met with an apparition. He began to spellout _horrible_, "h-o-r-, hor--there's your hor, _hor_; r-i-b-, there'syour _rib_, horrib--"

"Don't let that boy read any more, " said Aunt Olive. 

Nathaniel dropped his book by his side, and cast a far-away glance intothe timber. 

"I guess I ain't much of a reader, " he remarked, dryly. 

"Stop, sir!" said the master. 

Poor Nathaniel! Once, in attempting to read a Bible story, he read, "Andhe smote the Hittite that he died"--"And he smote him Hi-ti-ti-ty, thathe _did_" with great emphasis and brief self-congratulation. 

In wonderful contrast to Nathaniel's efforts was the reading in concertby the whole class. Here was shown fine preparation for a forest school. The reading of verses, in which "sound corresponded to thesignification, " was smoothly, musically, and admirably done, and we givesome of these curious exercises here:

_Felling trees in a wood. _

 Loud sounds the axe, redoubling strokes on strokes; On all sides round the forest hurls her oaks Headlong. Deep echoing groan the thickets brown, Then rustling, crackling, crashing, thunder down. 

_Sounds of a bow-string. _

 The string let fly Twanged short and sharp, like the shrill swallow's cry. 

_The pheasant. _

 See! from the brake the whirring pheasant springs, And mounts exulting on triumphant wings. 

_Scylla and Charybdis. _

 Dire Scylla there a scene of horror forms, And here Charybdis fills the deep with storms. When the tide rushes from her rumbling caves, The rough rock roars; tumultuous boil the waves. 

_Boisterous and gentle sounds. _

 Two craggy rocks projecting to the main, The roaring winds' tempestuous rage restrain: Within, the waves in softer murmurs glide, And ships secure without their hawsers ride. 

_Laborious and impetuous motion. _

 With many a weary step, and many a groan, Up the high hill he heaves a huge round stone: The huge round stone resulting with a bound, Thunders impetuous down, and smokes along the ground. 

_Regular and slow movement. _

 First march the heavy mules securely slow; O'er hills, o'er dales, o'er crags, o'er rocks they go. 

_Motion slow and difficult. _

 A needless Alexandrine ends the song, That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along. 

_A rock torn from the brow of a mountain. _

 Still gath'ring force, it smokes, and urged amain, Whirls, leaps, and thunders down impetuous to the plain. 

_Extent and violence of the waves. _

 The waves behind impel the waves before, Wide-rolling, foaming high, and tumbling to the shore. 

_Pensive numbers. _

 In these deep solitudes and awful cells, Where heav'nly pensive contemplation dwells, And ever-musing melancholy reigns. 

_Battle. _

 Arms on armor clashing brayed Horrible discord; and the madding wheels Of brazen fury raged. 

_Sound imitating reluctance. _

 For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing anxious being e'er resigned; Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, Nor cast one longing, ling'ring look behind?

A spelling exercise followed, in which the pupils spelled for places, orfor the head. Abraham Lincoln stood at the head of the class. He wasregarded as the best speller in Spencer County. He is noted to have soonexhausted all that the three teachers whom he found there could teachhim. Once, in after years, when he was asked how he came to know somuch, he answered, "By a willingness to learn of every one who couldteach me anything. "

"Abraham, " said Master Crawford, "you have maintained your place at thehead of the class during the winter. You may take your place now at thefoot of the class, and try again. "

The spelling for turns, or for the head, followed the method of the oldWebster's "Speller, " that was once so popular in country schools:

 ail, to be in trouble. Ale, malt liquor. Air, the atmosphere. _h_eir, one who inherits. All, the whole. Awl, an instrument. Al-tar, a place for offerings. Al-ter, to change. Ant, a little insect. A_u_nt, a sister to a parent. Ark, a vessel. Arc, part of a circle. 

All went correctly and smoothly, to the delight and satisfaction ofJosiah Crawford and Aunt Olive, until the word _drachm_ was reached, when all the class failed except Abraham Lincoln, who easily passed upto the head again. 

The writing-books, or copy-books, were next shown to the visitors. Thewriting had been done on puncheon-desks with home made ink. AbrahamLincoln's copy-book showed the same characteristic hand that signed theEmancipation Proclamation. In one corner of a certain page he hadwritten an odd bit of verse in which one may read a common experience inthe struggles of life after what is better and higher. Emerson said, "Ahigh aim is curative. " Poor backwoods Abe seemed to have the sameimpression, but he did not write it down in an Emersonian way, but inthis odd rhyme:

 "Abraham Lincoln, His hand and pen, He will be good, But God knows when. "

The exercises ended with a grand dialogue translated from Fénelonbetween Dionysius, Pythias, and Damon, in which fidelity in friendshipwas commended. After this, each of the visitors, Aunt Olive included, was asked to make a "few remarks. " Aunt Olive's remarks were "few, " butto the point:

"Children, you have read well, and spelled well, and are goodarithme_tickers_, but you ain't sot still. There!"

Josiah Crawford thought the progress of the school had been excellent, but that more of the rod had been needed. 

(Where had all the green bushes gone in the clearing, but to purposes ofdiscipline?)

Then good Brother Jasper was asked to speak. The "wizard" who couldspeak Latin arose. The pupils could see his great heart under his face. It shone through. His fine German culture did not lead him away from thesolid merits of the forest school. 

"There are purposes in life that we can not see, " he began, "but thesecret comes to those who listen to the beating of the human heart, andat the doors of heaven. Spirits whisper, as it were. The soul, a greatright intention, is here; and there is a conscience here which is power;and here, for aught we can say, may be some young Servius Tullius ofthis wide republic. "

Servius Tullius? Would any one but he have dreamed that the citizens ofRome would one day delight to honor an ungainly pupil of that forestschool?

One day there came to Washington a present to the Liberator of theAmerican Republic. It looked as follows, and bore the followinginscription:

[Illustration: "To Abraham Lincoln, President, for the second time, ofthe American Republic, citizens of Rome present this stone, from thewall of Servius Tullius, by which the memory of each of those braveassertors of liberty may be associated. Anno 1865. "]

It is said that the modest President shrank from receiving such acompliment as that. It was too much. He hid away the stone in astoreroom of the capital, in the basement of the White House. It nowconstitutes a part of his monument, being one of the most impressiverelics in the Memorial Hall of that structure. It is twenty-four hundredyears old, and it traveled across the world to the prairies of Illinois, a tribute from the first advocate of the rights of the people to thelatest defender of all that is sacred to the human soul. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

THE PARABLE PREACHES IN THE WILDERNESS. 

The house in which young Abraham Lincoln attended church was simple andcurious, as were the old forest Baptist preachers who conducted theservices there. It was called simply the "meeting-house. " It stood inthe timber, whose columns and aisles opened around it like a vastcathedral, where the rocks were altars and the birds were choirs. It wasbuilt of rude logs, and had hard benches, but the plain people had donemore skillful work on this forest sanctuary than on the school-house. The log meeting-house stood near the log school-house, and both revealedthe heart of the people who built them. It was the Prussianschool-master, trained in the moral education of Pestalozzi, that madethe German army victorious over France in the late war. And it was theNew England school-master that built the great West, and made PlymouthRock the crown-stone of our own nation. The world owes to humblePestalozzi what it never could have secured from a Napoleon. It is rightideas that march to the conquest, that lift mankind, and live. 

It had been announced in the school-house that Jasper the Parable wouldpreach in the log church on Sunday. The school-master called thewandering teacher "Jasper the Parable, " but the visitor became commonlyknown as the "Old Tunker" in the community. The news flew for miles that"an old Tunker" was to preach. No event had awakened a greater interestsince Elder Elkins, from Kentucky, had come to the settlement to preachNancy Lincoln's funeral sermon under the great trees. On that occasionall the people gathered from the forest homes of the vast region. Everyone now was eager to visit the same place in the beautiful springweather, and to "hear what the old Tunker would have to say. "

Among the preachers who used to speak in the log meeting-house and inThomas Lincoln's cabin were one Jeremiah Cash, and John Richardson, andyoung Lamar. The two latter preachers lived some ten miles distant fromthe church; but ten miles was not regarded as a long Sabbath-day journeyin those days in Indiana. When the log meeting-house was found too smallto hold the people, such preachers would exhort under the trees. Thereused to be held religious meetings in the cabins, after the manner ofthe present English cottage prayer-meetings. These used to be appointedto take place at "early candle-lighting, " and many of the women whoattended used to bring tallow dips with them, and were looked upon asthe "wise virgins" who took oil in their lamps. 

It was a lovely Sunday in April. The warm sunlight filled the air andbird-songs the trees. The notes of the lark, the sparrow, and theprairie plover were bells--

 "To call me to duty, while birds in the air Sang anthems of praise as I went forth to prayer, "

as one of the old hymns used to run. The buds on the trees wereswelling. There was an odor of walnut and "sassafrax" in the tides ofthe sunny air. Cowslips and violets margined the streams, and the skyover all was serene and blue, and bright with the promise of the summerdays. 

The people began to gather about the meeting-house at an early hour. Thewomen came first, in corn-field bonnets which were scoop-shaped andflaring in front, and that ran out like horns behind. On thesefunnel-shaped, cornucopia-like head-gears there might now and then beseen the vanity of a ribbon. The girls carried their shoes in theirhands until they came in sight of the meeting-house, when they would sitdown on some mossy plat under an old tree, "bein' careful of thesnakes, " and put them on. All wore linsey-woolsey dresses, of which fouror five yards of cloth were an ample pattern for a single garment, asthey had no use for any superfluous polonaises in those times. 

Long before the time for the service the log meeting-house was full ofwomen, and the yard full of men and horses. Some of the people had comefrom twenty miles away. Those who came from the longest distances werethe first to arrive--as is usual, for in all matters in life promptnessis proportioned to exertion. 

When the Parable came, Thomas Lincoln met him. 

"You can't preach here, " said he. "Half the people couldn't hear you. You have a small voice. You don't holler and pound like the rest of 'em, I take it. Suppose you preach out under the trees, where all the peoplecan hear ye. It looks mighty pleasant there. With our old sing-songpreachers it don't make so much difference. We could hear one of themif you were to shut him up in jail. But with you it is different. Youhave been brought up different among those big churches over there. Whatdo you say, preacher?"

"I would rather preach under the trees. I love the trees. They are themeeting-house of God. "

"Say, preacher, would you mind goin' over and preachin' at Nancy'sgrave? Elder Elkins preached there, and the other travelin' ministers. Seems kind o' holy over there. Nancy was a good woman, and all thepeople liked her. She was Abraham's mother. The trees around her graveare beautiful. "

"I would like to preach there, by that lonely grave in the wilderness. "

"The Tunker will preach at Nancy's grave, " said Thomas Lincoln in a loudvoice. He led the way to the great cathedral of giant trees, which wereclouded with swelling buds and old moss, and a long procession of peoplefollowed him there. 

Among them was Aunt Olive, with a corn-field bonnet of immenseproportions, and her hymn-book. She was a lively worshiper. At all themeetings she sang, and at the Methodist meetings she shouted; and afterall religious occasions she "tarried behind, " to discuss the sermon withthe minister. She usually led the singing. Her favorite hymns were, "AmI a soldier of the Cross, " "Come, thou Fount of every blessing, " and "MyBible leads to glory. " The last hymn and tune suited her emotionalnature, and she would pitch it upon a high key, and make the woods ringwith the curious musical exhortation of the chorus:

 "Sing on, pray on, Ye followers of Emmanuel. "

At the early candle-meetings at Thomas Lincoln's cabin and other cabins, she sang hymns of a more persuasive character. These were oddlyappropriate to the hard-working, weary, yet hopeful community. One ofthese began thus:

 "Come, my brethren, let us try, For a little season, Every burden to lay by-- Come, and let us reason. What is this that casts you down? What is this that grieves you? Speak, and let the worst be known-- Speaking may _relieve_ you. "

The music was weird and in a minor key. It was sung often with apeculiar motion of the body, a forward-and-backward movement, withclasped hands and closed eyes. Another of the pioneer hymns began:

 "Brethren, we have met for worship, And to adore the Lord our God: Will you pray with all your power, While we wait upon the Lord? All is vain unless the Spirit Of the Holy One comes down; Brethren, pray, and heavenly manna Will be showered all around. 

 "Sisters, will you join and help us? Moses' sister help-ed him, " etc. 

The full glory of a spring day in Indiana shone over the vast forests, as the Tunker rose to speak under the great trees. It was like anEaster, and, indeed, the hymn sung at the opening of the service wasmuch like an Easter hymn. It related how--

 "On this lovely morning my Saviour was rising, The chains of mortality fully despising; His sufferings are over, he's done agonizing-- This morning my Saviour will think upon _me_. "

The individuality of the last line seemed especially comforting to manyof the toiling people, and caused Aunt Olive to uplift her voice in agreat shout. 

"Come with me, " said Jasper; "come with me this morning, and we willwalk beside the Sea of Galilee together. Galilee! I love to think ofGalilee--far, far away. The words spoken on the shores of Galilee, andon the mountains over-looking Galilee, are the hope of the world. Theyare the final words of our all-loving Father to his children. Times maychange, but these words will never be exceeded or superseded; nothingcan ever go beyond these teachings of the brotherhood of man, and theway that the heart may find God, and become conscious of the presence ofGod, and know its immortality, and the everlasting truth. What did thegreat Teacher say on Galilee?"

The Parable began to repeat from memory the Sermon on the Mount and theGalilean teachings. The birds came and sang in the trees during the longrecitations, and the people sank down on the grass. Once or twice AuntOlive's corn-field bonnet rose up, and out of it came a shout of"Glory!" One enthusiastic brother shouted, at one point of thequotations: "That's right, elder; pitch into 'em, and give it 'em--theyneed it. We're all sinners here; a good field to improve upon! Go on!"

It was past high noon when Jasper finished his quotations from theGospels. He then paused, and said:

"Do you want to know who I am, and why I am here, and what has sent meforth among the speckled birds of the forest? I will tell you. A truelife has no secrets--it needs none; it is open to all like therevelations of the skies, and the sea, and the heart of Nature--what isconcealed in the heart is what should not be. 

"I had a teacher. He is living now--an old, broken man--a name that willsound strange to your ears. He gave up his life to teach the orphansmade by the war. He studied with them, learned with them, ate with them;he saw with their eyes and felt with their hearts. He taught after theschool of Nature; as Nature teaches the child within, so he taught, using outward objects. 

"He once said to me:

"'For thirty years my life has been a struggle against poverty. Forthirty years I have had to forego many of the barest necessities oflife, and have had to shun the society of my fellow-men for want ofdecent clothes. Many and many times I have gone without a dinner, andeaten in bitterness a dry crust of bread on the road, at a time wheneven the poorest were seated around a table. All this I have suffered, and am suffering still to-day, and with no other object than to realizemy plan for helping the poor. '

"When I heard him say that, I loved him. It made me ashamed of myselfish life. Then I heard the Dunkards preach, and tell of America overthe sea. I began to study the words of the Teacher of Galilee. I, too, longed to teach. My wife died, and my two children. Then I said: 'Iwill live for the soul. That is all that has any lasting worth. I willgive up everything for the good of others, and go over the sea, andteach the children of the forest. ' I am now on my way to see Black Hawk, who has promised to send out with me an interpreter and guide. I havegiven up my will, my property, and my name, and I am happy. Good-by, myfriends. I have nothing, and am happy. "

At this point Aunt Olive's corn-field bonnet rose up, and her voice rangout on the air:

 "My brother, I wish you well! My brother, I wish you well! When my Lord calls, I hope I shall Be _mentioned_ in the promised land. 

 "My sister, I wish you well!" etc. 

 "Poor sinners, I wish you well!" etc. 

Galilee! There was one merry, fun-making boy in that sacred place, towhom, according to tradition, that word had a charm. He used to love tomimic the old backwoods preachers, and he became very skeptical inmatters of Christian faith and doctrine, but he never forgot theteachings of the Teacher of Galilee. In the terrible duties that fell tohis lot the principles of the Galilean teachings came home to his heart, and he came to know in experience what he had not accepted from themouths of men. He is said to have said, just before his death, whichbowed the nation: "When the cares of state are over, I want to go toGalilee, " or words of like meaning. The legend is so beautiful that wecould wish it to be true. 

CHAPTER IX. 

AUNT INDIANA'S PROPHECIES. 

Jasper heard the local stories at the smithy and at Aunt Indiana's withintense interest. To him they furnished a study of the character of thepeople. They were not like stories of beautiful spiritual meaning thathe had been accustomed to hear at Marienthal, at Weimar, and on theRhine. The tales of Richter, Haupt, Hoffman, and Baron Fouqué couldnever have been created here. These new settlements called for theincident or joke that represented a practical fact, and not thesoul-growth of imagination. The one question of education was, "Can youcipher to the rule of three?" and of religion, "Have you found theLord?" The favorite tales were of Indians, bears, and ghosts, and therough hardships that overcome life. Jasper heard these tales with asympathetic heart. 

The true German story is a parable, a word with a soul. Jasper lovedthem, for the tales of a people are the heart of a people, and expressthe progress of culture and opinion. 

One day, as Jasper was cobbling at Aunt Olive's, he sought to teach hera lesson of contentment by a German household story. Johnnie Kongapodhad come in, and the woman was complaining of her hard and restrictedlife. 

"Aunt Indiana, " said Jasper, "do you have fairies here?"

"Never have seen any. We don't spin air here in America. "

"We have fairies in Germany. All the children there pass throughfairy-land. There once came a fairy to an old couple who werecomplaining, like you. "

"Like me? I'm the contentedest woman in these parts. 'Tis no harm towish for what you haven't got. "

"There came a fairy to them, and said:

"'You may have three wishes. Wish. '

"The old couple thought:

"'We must be very wise, ' said the woman, 'and not make any mistake, since we can only wish three times. I wish I had a pudding. '

"Immediately there came a pudding upon the table. The poor woman wasgreatly surprised. 

"'There, you see what you have done by your foolish wishing!' said theman. 

"'One of our opportunities has gone, ' said the woman. 'We have but twochances left. We must be _wiser_. '

"They sat and looked into the fire. The fairy had disappeared from thehearth, and there were only embers and ashes there. 

"The man grew angry that his wife had lost one of their opportunities. 

"'Nothin' but a pudding!' said he. 'I wish that that miserable puddingwere hung to your nose!'

"The pudding leaped from the table and hung at the end of the oldwoman's nose. 

"'There!' said she, 'now you see what you have done by your foolishwishing. '

"The old man sighed. 'We have but one wish left. We must now be thewisest people in all the world. '

"They watched the dying embers, and thought. As they did so, the puddinggrew heavy at the end of the old woman's nose. At last she could endureit no longer. 

"'Oh!' she said, 'how I wish that pudding was off again!'

"The pudding disappeared, and the fairy was gone. "

"'Tain't true, " said Aunt Indiana. 

"Yes, " said Jasper, "what is true to life is true. Stories are thealphabet of life. "

Johnnie Kongapod had listened to the tale with delight. Aunt Indianaknew that no fairy would ever appear on her hearth, but Johnnie was notso sure. 

"I've seen 'em, " said he. 

"You--what? What have you seen? I'd like to know, " said Aunt Indiana. 

"Fairies--"

"Where?"

"When I've been asleep. "

"There never was any fairies in my dreams, " said Aunt Indiana. 

No, there were not. The German Tunker and the prairie Indian might seefairies, but the hard-working Yankee pioneer had no faculties forcreative fancy. Her fairy was the plow that breaks the ground, or theaxe that fells the timber. Yet the German soul-tale seemed to haunt her, and she at last said:

"I wish that we had more such stories as that. It is pleasant talk. AbeLincoln tells such things out of the Pilgrim's Progress. He's allimagination, just like you and the Indians. People who don't have muchto do run to such things. I suppose that he has read that Pilgrim'sProgress over a dozen times. "

"I have observed that the boy had ideals, " said Jasper. 

"What's them?" said Aunt Indiana. 

"People build life out of ideals, " said Jasper. "A cathedral is an idealbefore it is a form. So is a house, a glass--everything. He has thecreative imagination. "

"Yes--that's what I said: always going around with a book in his hand, as though he was walking on the air. "

"His step-mother says that he's one of the best of boys. He doeseverything that he can for her, and he has never given her an unkindword. He loves his step-mother like an own mother, and he forgetshimself for others. These are good signs. "

"Signs--signs! Stop your cobblin', elder, and let me prophesy! That boyjust takes after his father, and he will never amount to anything inthis world or any other. His mother what is dead was a good woman--anawful good woman; but she was sort o' visionary. They say that she usedto see things at camp-meetin's, and lose her strength, and have far-awayvisions. She might have seen fairies. But she was an awful goodwoman--good to everybody, and everybody loved her; and we were all sorrywhen she died, and we all love her grave yet. It is queer, but we allseem to love her grave. A sermon goes better when it is preached thereunder the great trees. Some folks had rather hear a sermon preachedthere than at the meetin'-house. Some people leave a kind o' influence;_Miss_ Linken did. The boy means well--his heart is all right, like hispoor dead mother's was--but he hasn't got any head on 'im, like as Ihave. He hasn't got any calculation. And now, elder, I'm goin' to sayit, though I'm sorry to: he'll never amount to shucks! There, now!Josiah Crawford says so, too. "

"There is one very strong point about Abraham, " said Jasper. "He has akeen sense of what is right, and he is always governed by it. He hasfaith that right is might. Didn't you ever notice it?"

"Yes, I'll do him justice. I never knew him to do a thing that hethought wrong--never. He couldn't. He takes after his mother's folks, and they say that there is Quaker blood in the Linkens. "

"But, my good woman, a fool would be wise if he always did right, wouldn't he? There is no higher wisdom than to always do right. And aboy that has a heart to feel for every one, and a conscience that istrue to a sense of right, and that loves learning more than anythingelse, and studies continually, is likely to find a place in the world. 

"Now, I am going to prophesy. This country is going to need men to leadthem, and Abraham Lincoln will one day become a leader among men. Heleads now. His heart leads; his mind leads. I can see it. The world hereis going to need men of knowledge, and it will select the man of themost learning who has the most heart, the most sympathy with the people. It will select him. I have a spiritual eye, and I can see. "

"A leader of the people--Abe Lincoln! You have said it now. I would assoon think of Johnnie Kongapod! A leader of the people! Are you daft?When the prairies leap into corn-fields and the settlements into banksof gold, and men can travel a mile a minute, and clodhoppers becomemerchants and Congressers, and as rich as Spanish grandees, then AbrahamLincoln may become a leader of the people, but not till then! No, elder, you are no Samuel, that has come down here among the sons of Jesse tofind a shepherd-boy for a king. You ain't no Samuel, and he ain't noshepherd-boy. He all runs to books and legs, and I tell you he ain't gotno calculation. Now, I've prophesied and you've prophesied. "

"Time tells the truth about all things, " said Jasper. "We shall meet, ifI make my circuits, and we will talk of our prophecies in other years, should Providence permit. My soul has set its mark on that boy: wait, and we will see if the voice within me speaks true. It has always spokentrue until now. "

At the close of this prophetic dialogue the subject of it appeared atthe door. He was a tall boy, with a dark face, homely, ungainly, awkward. He wore a raccoon-skin cap, a linsey-woolsey shirt, and leatherbreeches, and was barefooted, although the weather was yet cool. He didnot look like one who would ever cause the thrones of the world to leanand listen, or who would find in the Emperor of all the Russias theheart of a brother. 

"Abe, " said Aunt Indiana, "the Tunker here has been speakin' well ofyou, though you don't deserve it. He just says as how you are goin' tobe somebody, and make somethin' in the world. I hope you will, thoughyou're a shaky tree to hang hopes on. I ain't got nothin' ag'in ye. Hesays that you'll become a leader among men. What do you think o' that, Abe? Don't stand there gawkin'. Come in and sit down. "

"It helps one to have some one believe in him, " said the tall boy. "Onetries to fulfill the good prophecies made about him. I wish I wasgood. --Thank ye, elder, for your good opinion. I wonder if I will evermake anything? I sometimes think I will. I look over toward mother'sgrave there, and think I will; but you can't tell. Crawford theschoolmaster he thinks good of me, but the other Crawford--Josiah--he'sag'in me. But if we do right, we'll all come out right. "

"Yes, my boy, " said Jasper, "have faith that right is might. This iswhat the Voice and the Being within tells me to preach and to teach. Letus have faith that right is might, and do our duty, and the Spirit ofGod will give us a new nature, and make us new creatures, and therebirth of the spiritual life into the eternal kingdom. "

The prairie winds breathed through the trees. A robin came and sang inthe timber. 

The four sat thoughtful--the Tunker, the Indian, the pioneer woman, andthe merry, sad-faced boy. It was a commonplace scene in the Indianatimber, and that one lonely grave is all that is left to recall suchscenes to-day--the grave of the pioneer mother. 

CHAPTER X. 

THE INDIAN RUNNER. 

The young May moon was hanging over the Mississippi on the evening whenJasper came to the village of the Sacs and Foxes. This royal town, thehead residence of the two tribes, and the ancient burying-ground of theIndian race, was very beautifully situated at the junction of the RockRiver with the Mississippi. The Father of Waters, which is in manyplaces turbid and uninteresting, here becomes a clear and impetuousstream, flowing over beds of rock and gravel, amid high and woodedshores. The rapids--the water-ponies of the Indians--here come leapingdown, surging and foaming, and are checked by monumental islands. Theland rises from the river in slopes, like terraces, crowned with hillsand patriarchal trees. From these hills the sight is glorious. On onehand rolls the mighty river, and on the other stretch vast prairies, flower-carpeted, sun-flooded, a sea of vegetation, the home of theprairie plover and countless nesters of the bright, warm air. It is apark, whose extent is bounded by hundreds of miles. 

Water-swept and beautiful lies Rock Island, where on a parapet of rockwas built Fort Armstrong in the days of the later Indian troubles. 

The royal town and burying-ground was a place of remarkable fertility. The grape-vine tangled the near woods, the wild honeysuckle perfumed theair, and wild plums blossomed white in May and purpled with fruit insummer. If ever an Indian race loved a town, it was this. The Indianmind is poetic. Nature is the book of poetry to his instinct, and hereNature was poetic in all her moods. 

The Indians venerated the graves of their ancestors. Here they kept thegraves beautiful, and often carried food to them and left it for thedead. 

The chant at these graves was tender, and shows that the human hearteverywhere is the same. It was like this:

 "Where are you, my father? Oh, where are you now? I'm longing to see thee; I'm wailing for thee. (Wail. )

 "Are you happy, my father? Are you happy now? I'm longing to see thee; I'm wailing for thee. (Wail. )

 "Spring comes to the river, But where, then, art thou? I'm longing to see thee; I'm wailing for thee. (Wail. )

 "The flowers come forever; I'll meet thee again; I'm longing to see thee-- Time bears me to thee!" (Wail. )

As Jasper ascended the high bluffs of the lodge where Black Hawk dwelt, he was followed by a number of Indians who came out of their houses ofpoles and bark, and greeted him in a kindly way. The dark chief met himat the door of the lodge. 

"You are welcome, my father. The new moon has bent her bow over thewaters, and you have come back. You have kept your promise. I have keptmine. There is the boy. "

An Indian boy of lithe and graceful form came out of the lodge, followedby an old man, who was his uncle. The boy's name was Waubeno, and hisuncle's was Main-Pogue. The latter had been an Indian runner in Canada, and an interpreter to the English there. He spoke English well. The boyWaubeno had been his companion in his long journeys, and, now that theinterpreter was growing old, remained true to him. The three stoodthere, looking down on the long mirror of the Mississippi--Black Hawk, Main-Pogue, and Waubeno--and waiting for Jasper to speak. 

"I have come to bring you peace, " said Jasper--"not the silence of thehawk or the bow-string, but peace here. "

He laid his hand on his breast, and all the Indians did the same. 

"I am a man of peace, " continued Jasper. "If any one should seek to slayme, I would not do him any harm. I would forgive him, and pray that hisblindness might go from his soul, and that he might see a better life. You welcome me, you are true to me, and, whatever may happen, I will betrue to your race. "

The black chief bowed, Main-Pogue, and the boy Waubeno. 

"I believe you, " said Black Hawk. "Your face says 'yes' to your words. The Indian's heart is always true to a friend. Sit down; eat, smoke thepeace-pipe, and let us talk. Sit down. The sky is clear, and thenight-bird cries for joy on her wing. Let us all sit down and talk. Theriver rolls on forever by the graves of the braves of old. Let us sitdown. "

The squaws brought Jasper some cakes and fish, and Black Hawk lightedsome long pipes and gave them to Main-Pogue and Waubeno. 

"I have brought the boy here for you, " said Black Hawk. "He comes of theblood of the brave. Let me tell you his story. It will shame thepale-face, but let me tell you the story. You will say that the Indiancan be great, like the pale-face, when I tell you his story. It willsmite your heart. Listen. "

A silence followed, during which a few puffs of smoke curled into theair from the black chief's pipe. He broke his narrative by suchsilences, designed to be impressive, and to offer an opportunity forthought on what had been said. 

Strange as it may seem to the reader, the story that follows issubstantially true, and yet nothing in classic history or modern heroismcan surpass in moral grandeur the tale that Black Hawk was always proudto tell:

"Father, that is the boy. He knows all the ways from the Great Lakes tothe long river, from the great hills to Kaskaskia. You can trust him; heknows the ways. Main-Pogue knows all the ways. Main-Pogue was a runnerfor the pale-face. He has taught him the ways. Their hearts are like oneheart, Main-Pogue's and Waubeno's. 

[Illustration: BLACK HAWK TELLS THE STORY OF WAUBENO. ]

"His father is dead, Waubeno's. Main-Pogue has been a father to him. They would die for each other. Main-Pogue says that Waubeno may run withyou, if I say that he may run. I say so. Main-Pogue and Waubeno are trueto me. 

"The boy's father is dead, I said. Who was the father of thatboy?--Waubeno, stand up. "

The boy arose, like a tall shadow. There was a silence, and Black Hawkpuffed his pipe, then laid it beside his blanket. 

"Who was the father of Waubeno? He was a brave, a warrior. He wore thegray plume, and honor to him was more than life. He would not lie, andthey put him to death. He was true as the stars, and they killed him. "

There followed another silence. 

"Father, you teach. You teach the head; you teach the heart: to live atrue life, is the thing to teach--the thing you call conscience, soul, those are the right things to teach. What are books to the head, if thesoul is not taught to be true?

"Father, the father of Waubeno could teach the pale-face. In the head?No, in the heart? No, in the soul, which is the true book of the GreatSpirit that you call God. You came to us to teach us God. It is good. You are a brother, but God came to us before. He has written the law ofright in the soul of every man. The right will find the light. You teachthe way--you bring the Word of him who died for mankind. It is good. I've got you a runner to run with you. It is good. You help the right tofind the light. 

"Father, listen. I am about to speak. Before the great war with theBritish brother (1812) that boy's father struck down to the earth apale-face who had done him wrong. The white man died. He who wrongsanother does not deserve the sun. He died, and his soul went to theshadows. The British took the red warrior prisoner for killing this manwho had wronged him. Waubeno was a little one then, when they took hisfather prisoner. 

"The British told the old warrior that they had condemned him to die. 

"'I am not afraid to die, ' said the warrior. 'Let me go to theOuisconsin (Wisconsin) and see my family once more, and whisper my lastwish in the ear of my boy, and I will return to you and die. I willreturn at the sunrise. '

"'You would never return, ' said the commander of the stockade. 

"The warrior strode before him. 

"'Can a true man lie?'

"The commander looked into his face, and saw his soul. 

"'Well, go, ' said he. 'I would like to see an Indian who would come backto die. '

"The warrior went home, under the stars. He told his squaw all. He hadsix little children, and he hugged them all. Waubeno was the oldest boy. He told him all, and pressed him to his heart. He whispered in hisear. --What was it he said, Waubeno?"

The shadowy form of the boy swayed in the dim light, as he answered. Hesaid:

"'Avenge my death! Honor my memory. The Great Spirit will teach youhow. ' That is what my father said to me, and I felt the beating of hisheart. "

There was a deep silence. Then Black Hawk said:

"The warrior looked down on the Ouisconsin under the stars. He looked upto heaven, and cried, 'Lead thou my boy!' Then he set his face towardthe stockades of Prairie du Chien. 

"He strode across the prairie as the sun was rising; he arrived in time, and--Father, listen!"

There was another silence, so deep that one might almost hear thepuffing smoke as it rose on the air. 

"_They shot him!_ That is his boy, Waubeno. "

Jasper stood silent; he thought of Johnnie Kongapod's story, and thenight-scene at Pigeon Creek. 

"I shall teach him a better way, " said Jasper, at last. "I will lead himto honor the memory of his great father in a way that he does not nowknow. The Great Spirit will guide us both. His father was a great man. Iwill lead him to become a greater. "

"Father, " said the boy, coming forward, "I will always be true to you, but I have sworn by the stars. "

Jasper stood like one in a dream. Could such a tale as this be trueamong savages? Honor like this only needed the gospel teaching to dogreat deeds. Jasper saw his opportunity, and his love of mankind neverglowed before as it did then. He folded his hands, closed his eyes, andhis silent thoughts winged upward to the skies. 

CHAPTER XI. 

THE CABIN NEAR CHICAGO. 

Jasper and Waubeno crossed the prairies to Lake Michigan. It was June, the high tide of the year. The long days poured their sunlight over theseas of flowers. The prairie winds were cool, and the new vegetation wasalive with insects and birds. 

The first influence that Jasper tried to exert on Waubeno was to inducehim to forego the fixed resolution to avenge his father's death. 

"The first thing in education, " he used to say, "is conscience, thesecond is the heart, and the third is the head. "

He had planned to teach Waubeno while the Indian boy should be teachinghim, and he wished to follow his own theory that a new pupil shouldfirst learn to be governed by his moral sense. 

"Waubeno, " he said, in their long walk over the prairie, "I wish toteach you and make you wise, but before I can do you justice you mustmake a promise. Will you, Waubeno?"

"I will. You would not ask me to do what is wrong. "

"It may be a hard thing, but, Waubeno, I wish you to promise me thatyou will never seek to avenge your father. Will you, Waubeno?"

"Parable, I will promise you any right thing but that. I have madeanother promise about that thing--it must hold. "

"Waubeno, I can not teach you as I would while you carry malice in yourheart. The soul does not see clearly that is dark with evil. Do you see?I wish it for your good. "

"The white man punishes his enemies, does he not? Why should not Iavenge a wrong? The white fathers at Malden" (the trade-post on LakeErie) "avenge every wrong that is done them by the Indians, do theynot?"

"Christ died for his enemies. He forgave them, dying. You have heard. "

"Then why do his followers not do the same?"

"They do. "

"I have never seen one who did. "

"Not one?"

"No, not one. "

"Then they are false to the cross. Waubeno, I love you. I am seekingyour good. Trust me. I would make you any promise that I could. Make methis promise, and then we will be brothers. Your vow rises between uslike a cloud. "

"Parable, listen. I will promise, on one condition. "

"What, Waubeno?"

"You say that right is might, Parable?"

"Yes. "

"_When I find a single white man who defends an Indian to his own hurtbecause it is right, I will promise. _ I have known many white men whodefended the Indian because they thought that it was good for them todo it--good for their pockets, good for their church, good for theirsouls in another world--but never one to his own harm, because it wasright; listen, Parable--never one to his own harm because it was right. When I meet one--such a one--I will promise you what you ask. Parable, my folks did right because it was right. "

"Waubeno, I once knew a boy who defended a turtle to his own harm, because it was right. The boys laughed at him, but his soul was true tothe turtle. "

"I would like to meet that boy, " Waubeno said. "He and I would bebrothers. But I have never seen such a boy, Parable. I have never seenany man who had the worth of my own father, and, till I do, I shall holdto my vow to him! God heard that vow, and he shall see that I prove trueto a man who died for the truth!"

The two came in sight of blue Lake Michigan, where the old Jesuitexplorer had had a vision of a great city; and where Point au Sable, theSan Domingo negro, for a time settled, hoping to be made an Indian king. Here he found the hospitable roofs of John Kinzie, the pioneer ofChicago, the Romulus of the great mid-continent city, where storehousesabounded with peltries and furs. 

John Kinzie (the father of the famous John H. Kinzie) was a grandpioneer, like the Pilgrim Fathers of the elder day. He dealt honestlywith the Indians, and won the hearts of the several tribes. He settledin Chicago in 1804, at which time a block-house was built by theGovernment as a frontier house or garrison. This frontier house stoodnear the present Rush Street Bridge. Mr. Kinzie's house stood on thenorth side of the Chicago River, opposite the fort. The storm-beatenblock-house was to be seen in Chicago as late as 1857, and the place ofMr. Kinzie's home will ever be held as sacred ground. The frontier housewas known as Fort Dearborn. A little settlement grew around the fort andthe hospitable doors of Mr. Kinzie, until in 1830 it numbered twelvehouses. Twelve houses in Chicago in 1830! Pass the bridge of sixtyyears, and lo! the rival city of the Western world, with its more than amillion people--more than fulfilling the old missionary's dream!

For twenty years John Kinzie was the only white man not connected withthe garrison and trading-post who lived in northern Illinois. He was awitness of the Indian massacre of the troops in 1812, when he himselfwas driven from his home by the lake. 

He saw another and different scene in August, 1821--a scene worthy of apoet or painter--the Great Treaty, in which the Indian chiefs gave upmost of their empire east of the Mississippi. There came to thisdecisive convocation the plumes of the Ottawas, Chippewas, andPottawattamies. General Cass was there, and the old Indian agents. Thechiefs brought with them their great warriors, their wives and children. There the prairie Indians made their last stand but one against themarch of emigration to the Mississippi. 

Me-te-nay, the young orator of the Pottawattamies, was there, to make apoetic appeal for his race. But the counsels of the white chiefs weretoo persuasive and powerful. A treaty was concluded, which virtuallygave up the Indian empire east of the Mississippi. 

Then the chiefs and the warriors departed, their red plumesdisappearing over the prairie in the sunset light. Before them rolledthe Mississippi. Behind them lay the blue seas of the lakes. It was asorrowful procession that slowly faded away. Some twelve years after, inAugust, 1835, another treaty was concluded with the remaining tribes, and there occurred the last dance of the Pottawattamies on the groundswhere the city of Chicago now stands. 

Five thousand Indians were present, and nearly one thousand joined inthe dance. The latter assembled at the council-house, on the place wherenow is the northeast corner of North Water and Rush Streets, and wherethe Lake House stands. Their faces were painted in black and vermilion;their hair was gathered in scalp-locks on the tops of their heads, andwas decorated with Indian plumes. They were led by drums and rattles. They marched in a dancing movement along the river, and stopped beforeeach house to perform the grotesque figures of their ancient traditions. 

They seemed to be aware that this was their last gathering on the lake. The thought fired them. Says one who saw them:

"Their eyes were wild and bloodshot. Their muscles stood out in great, hard knots, as if wrought to a tension that must burst them. Theirtomahawks and clubs were thrown and brandished in every direction. "

The dance was carried on in a procession through the peaceful streets, and was concluded at Fort Dearborn in presence of the officers andsoldiers of the garrison. It was the last great Indian gathering on thelake. 

A new civilization began in the vast empire of the inland seas with thesigning of the Treaty of Chicago and these concluding rites. Around thehome of pastoral John Kinzie were to gather the new emigrations of thenations of the world, and the Queen City of the Lakes was to rise, andProgress to make the seat of her empire here. Never in the history ofmankind did a city leap into life like this, which is now setting on herbrow the crown of the Columbus domes. 

On the arrival of Jasper and Waubeno at Fort Dearborn, an incidentoccurred which affords a picture of the vanished days of the prairiechiefs and kings. There came riding up to the trading-houses amiddle-aged chief named Shaubena. 

This chief may be said to have been the guardian spirit of the infantcity of Chicago. He hovered around her for her good for a half-century, and was faithful to her interests from the first to the end of his longlife. If ever an Indian merited a statue or an imperishable memorial ina great city, it is Shaubena. 

He was born about the year 1775, on the Kankakee River. His home was ona prairie island, as a growth of timber surrounded by a prairie used tobe called. It was near the head-waters of Big Indian Creek, now in DeKalb County. This grove, or prairie island, still bears his name. 

Here were his corn-fields, his sugar-camps, his lodges, and his happypeople. In his youth he had been employed by two Ottawa priests, orprophets, to instruct the people in the principles of their religion, and so he had traveled extensively in the land of the lakes, and spokeEnglish well. The old Methodist circuit-riders used to visit him on hisprairie island, and his family was brought under their influence andaccepted their faith. When, in 1812, Indian runners from Tecumsehvisited the tribal towns of the Illinois River to tell the warriors thatwar had been declared between the United States and England, and tocounsel them to unite with the English, Shaubena endeavored to restrainhis people from such a course, and to prevent a union of the tribesagainst the American settlers. When he found that the Indians weremarching against Chicago, he followed them on his pony. 

He arrived too late. A scene of blood met his eyes. Along the lake, where the blue waves rolled in the sun, lay forty-two dead bodies, theremains of white soldiers, women, and children. These bodies lay on theprairie for four years, until the rebuilding of Fort Dearborn in 1816, with the exception of the mutilated remains of Captain Wells, whichBlack Partridge buried. 

John Kinzie and his family had been saved, largely by the influence ofShaubena. Black Partridge summoned his warriors to protect the house. Shaubena rushed up to the porch-steps and set his rifle across thedoorway. The rooms were occupied by Mrs. Kinzie, her children, and Mrs. Helm. A party of excited Indians rushed upon the place and forced theirway into the house, to kill the women. The intended massacre was delayedby the friendly Indians. 

In the mean time a half-breed girl, who had been employed by good JohnKinzie, and who was devoted to his family, had stolen across the prairieto Sauganash, or Billy Caldwell, the friendly chief. This warrior seizedhis canoe and came paddling down the waters, plumed with eagle-feathers, with a rifle in his hand. He rose up in his canoe, in the dark, as hecame to the shore. 

"Who are you?" asked Black Partridge. 

"I am Sauganash. "

"Then save your white friends. You only can save them. "

The chief came to the house. 

"Go!" he said to the Indians. "I am Sauganash!"

John Kinzie was not only ever after grateful to Sauganash and thehalf-breed girl for what they had done to save him and his family, buthe saw that he had found a faithful heart in Shaubena. So when, to-day, Shaubena came riding up to his door from his prairie island on hislittle pony, he said, heartily:

"Shaubena, thou art welcome!"

Jasper and Waubeno joined John Kinzie and the prairie chief. 

"Thou, too art welcome, " said John Kinzie. "Whence do you come?"

Jasper told again his simple story: how that he was a Tunker, travelingto preach to every one, and to hold schools among the Indians; how thathe had been to Black Hawk for an interpreter and guide, and how BlackHawk had sent out Waubeno as his companion. 

Jasper and Waubeno built a cabin of logs, bark, and bushes, in view ofthe lake, a little distance above the fort. They spent several days onthe rude structure. 

"There are many Indian children who come to the trading-post, " saidJasper, "and I may be able to begin here my first Indian school. Youwill do all you can for me, will you not, Waubeno?"

"Parable, listen! You love my people, and I will do all that this arm, this heart, and this head can do for you. Whatever may happen, I will betrue to you. If it costs my life, I will be true to you! You may have mylife. Do you not believe Waubeno?"

"Yes, I believe you, Waubeno. You hold honor dearer than life. You saythat I love your people. You know that I would do right by your people, to my own harm. Then why will you not make to me the promise I soughtfrom you on the prairie?"

"I have not seen you tried. We know not any one until he is tried. Myfather was tried. He was true. I would talk with the boy that waslaughed at for defending the turtle. He was tried. He did right becauseit was right. We will know each other better by and by. But Waubeno willalways be true to you while you are true to Waubeno. "

The school opened in the new cabin about the time that the troops werewithdrawn from the fort and the place left in the charge of the Indianagent. Waubeno was the teacher, and Jasper his only pupil. After a timeJasper secured a few pupils from the post-trading Indians. But theseremained but for a short time. They did not like the confinement ofinstruction. 

One day a striking event occurred. The Indian agent came to visit theschool. He was interested in the Indian boys, and especially in theprogress of Waubeno, who was quick to learn. Before leaving, he said:

"I have a medal in my hand. It was given to me by the general ofMichigan. On one side of it is the Father of his Country--see him withhis sword--Washington, the immortal Washington. "

He held up the medal and paused. 

"On the other side is an Indian chief. He is burying his hatchet. I wasgiven the medal as a reward, and I will give it at the end of threeweeks to the boy in this school who best learns his lessons. Jaspershall decide who it shall be. "

"I am glad you have said that, " said Jasper. "That is the education ofgood-will. I am glad. "

The Indian boys studied well, but Waubeno excelled them all. At the endof three weeks the Indian agent again appeared, and Jasper hoped to gainthe heart of Waubeno by the award of the medal. 

"To whom shall I give the medal?" asked the agent, at the end of thevisit. 

Jasper looked at his boy. 

"It has been won by Waubeno, " said Jasper. "I would be unjust not to saythat all have been faithful, but Waubeno has been the most faithful ofall. "

Waubeno sat like a statue. He did not lift his eyes. 

"Waubeno, " said the agent, "you have heard what your teacher has said. The medal is yours. Here it is. You have reason to be proud of it. Waubeno, arise. "

Waubeno arose. The agent held out the medal to him. 

"Will you let me look at the medal?" said the boy. 

The medal was handed to him. He examined it. He did not smile, or showany emotion. His look was indifferent and stoical. What was passing inhis mind?

"The Indian chief is burying his hatchet, in the picture on this side ofthe medal, " he said, slowly. 

"Yes, " said the Indian agent, "he is a good chief. "

"The picture on this side represents Washington, you say?"

"Yes--Washington, the Father of his Country. "

"He has a sword by his side, general, has he not? See. "

"Yes, Waubeno, he has a sword by his side. "

"He is a good chief, too?"

"Yes, Waubeno. "

"Then why does he not bury his sword? I do not want the medal. What isgood for the red chief should be as good for the white chief. I would beunlike my father to take a mean thing like that. "

He stood like a statue, with curled lip and a fiery eye. The agentlooked queerly at Jasper. He had nothing more to say. He took back themedal and went away. When he had gone, Waubeno said to Jasper:

"Pardon, brother; _he_ is not _the_ man--my promise to my father holds. They teach well, but they do not do well: it is the doing that speaks tothe heart. The chief that buried his hatchet is a plumb fool, else thewhite chief would do so too. I have spoken!"

He sat down in silence and looked out upon the lake, on which the waveswere breaking into foam in the purple distances. His face had an injuredlook, and his eyes glowed. 

He arose at last and raised his hand, and said:

"I will pay them all some day!--"

Then he turned to Jasper and marked his disappointed face, and added:

"I will be true to you. Waubeno will be true to you. "

CHAPTER XII. 

THE WHITE INDIAN OF CHICAGO. 

One morning, as Jasper threw aside the curtain of skins that answeredfor a door to his cabin, a strange sight met his eyes. In the clearingbetween the cabin and the lake stood the tall form of an Indian. It wasthe most noble and beautiful form that he had ever seen, and theIndian's face and hands were white. 

Jasper stood silent. The white Indian bent his eyes upon him, and thetwo looked in surprise at each other. 

The Indian's eyes were dark, and like the eyes of the native races; buthis nose was Roman, and his skin English, with a slight brown tinge. Hishair was long and curly, and tinged with brown. 

"Waubeno, " said Jasper, "who is that?"

Waubeno came to the entrance of the cabin, and said:

"The white Indian. _They_ bring good. Speak to him. It is a good sign. "

"They?" said Jasper. "I never knew that there were white Indians, Waubeno. Where do they live? Where do they come from?"

"From the Great River. They come and go, and come and go, and they areunlike other Indians. They know things that other Indians do not know. They have a book that talks to them. It came from heaven. "

Jasper stepped out on to the clearing, and Waubeno followed him. Thewhite Indian awaited their approach. 

"Welcome, stranger, " said Jasper. "Where are you journeying from?"

"From the Great River (Mississippi) to the land of the lakes. They arecoming, coming, my brothers from over the sea, as the prophet said. Ihave not seen you here before. I am glad that you have come. "

"Where do you live?" asked Jasper. 

"My tribe is few, and they wander. They wander till the brothers come. We are not like other people here, though all the tribes treat us welland give us food and shelter. We are wanderers. We have lived in thecountry many years, and we have often visited Kaskaskia. You will hearof us there. When the French came, we thought they were brothers. Thenthe English came, and we felt that they were brothers. The white peopleare our brothers. "

"Come in, " said Jasper, "and breakfast with us. You are strange to me. Inever heard of you. You seem like a visitant from another world. Tellme, my brother, how came you to be white?"

"I beg your pardon, stranger, but I ask you the same question, How cameyou to be white? The same Power that made your face like the cloud andthe snow, made mine the same. There is kindred blood in our veins, but Iknow not how it is--we do not know. Our ancestors had a book that toldus of God, but it was lost when the French raised the cross atKaskaskia. We had a legend of the cross, and of armies marching underthe cross, and when the bell began to ring over the praise house there, we found that we, too, had ancient tales of the bell. More I can nottell. All the tribes welcome us, and we belong to all the tribes, and wehave wandered for years and years. Our fathers wandered. "

"This is all very strange, " said Jasper. "Tell us more. "

"I expected your coming, " said the white Indian. "I was not surprised tosee you here. I expected you. I knew it. There are more white brothersto come--many. Let me tell you about it all. 

"We had a prophet once. He said that we came from over the sea, and thatwe would never return, but that we must wander and wander, and that oneday our white brothers would come from over the sea to us. They arecoming; their white wagons are crossing the plains. Every day they arecoming. I love to see them come and pass. The prophet spoke true. 

"The French say that we came from a far-away land called Wales. TheFrench say that a voyager, whose name was Modoc, set sail for the Westeight hundred years ago, and was never heard of again in his own land;that his ships drifted West, and brought our fathers here. That is whatthe French say. I do not know, but I think that you and I are brothers. I feel it in my heart. You have treated me like a brother, and I kissyou in my heart. I love the English. They are my friends. I am going toMalden. There will be more white faces here when I come again. "

He took breakfast in the cabin, and went away. Jasper hardlycomprehended the visit. He sought the Indian agent, and described to himthe appearance of the wandering stranger, and related the story that theman had told. 

"There are white crows, white blackbirds, white squirrels, and whiteIndians, " said the agent, "strange as it may seem. I know nothing aboutthe origin of any of them--only that they do exist. Ever since theFrench and Indians came to the lakes white Indians have been seen. Sohave white crows and blackbirds. The French claim that these whiteIndians are of Welsh origin, and are the descendants of a body ofmariners who were driven to our shores in the twelfth century by someaccident of navigation or of weather. If so, the Welsh are the seconddiscoverers of America, following the Northmen. But I put no faith inthese traditions. I only know that from time to time a white-facedIndian is seen in the Mississippi Valley. There are many tales andtraditions of them. It is simply a mystery that will never be solved. "

"But what am I to think of the white Indian's story?"

"Simply that he had been taught by the French romancers, and that hebelieved it himself. Black faces have strangely appeared among whitepeoples, and Nature alone, could she speak, could explain her laws inthese cases. The Indians have various traditions of the white Indian'sappearance in the regions about Chicago; they regard him as amedicine-man, or a prophet, or a kind of good ghost. It is thought to begood fortune to meet him. "

"Why does he come here?" said Jasper. 

"To see the white people. He believes that the white people are hiskindred, and that they are coming, 'coming, ' and one day that they willflock here in multitudes. The French have told him this. He is amythical character. Somehow he has white blood in his veins. I can nottell how. The Welsh tradition may be true, but it is hardly probable. "

Years passed. The white Indian appeared again. The fort had become atown. The Indian races were disappearing. He saw the white wagonscrossing the prairies, and the reluctant Pottawattomies making their waytoward the Great River and the lands of the sunset. He went away, solitary as when he came, and was never seen again. 

Who may have been these mysterious persons whose white faces forgenerations haunted the lakes and the plains? They appeared atKaskaskia, their canoes glided mysteriously along the Mississippi, andthey were often seen at the hunting-camps of the North. They sought theFrench and the English as soon as these races began to make settlements, and they seemed to be strangely familiar with English tones, sounds, andwords. 

Jasper loved to look out from his cabin on the blue lake, and to dreamof the old scenes of the Prussian war, of Körner, Von Weber, ofPestalozzi, and his friend Froebel, and contrast them with the rude newlife around him. The past was there, but the future was here, and herewas his work for the future. It is not what a man has that makes himhappy, but what he is; not his present state, but the horizon of thefuture around him that imparts glow to life, and Jasper was at peacewith himself in the sense of doing his duty. Heaven to him was brightwith the smile of God, and he longed no more for the rose-gardens ofMarienthal or the castles of the Rhine. 

The appearance of the white Indian filled the mind of Waubeno with prideand hope. 

"We will be happy now, " he said. "You will be happy now; nothing happensto them who see the white Indian; all goes well. I know that you aregood within, else he would not come; only they whose beings within aregood see the white Indian, and he brings bright suns and moons andcalumets of peace, and so the days go on forever. I now know that youspeak true. And Waubeno has seen him; he will do well; he has seen thewhite crow among the black crows, and he will do well. Happy moons awaitWaubeno. "

The lake was glorious in these midsummer days. The prairie roses hungfrom the old trees in the groves, and the air rang with the joyful notesof the lark and plover. Indians came to the fort and went away. Pottawattomies encamped near the place and visited the agency, and whitetraders occasionally appeared here from Malden and Fort Wayne. 

But these were uneventful days of Fort Dearborn. The stories of Mrs. John Kinzie are among the most interesting memories of these days ofgeneral silence and monotony. The old Kinzie house was situated where isnow the junction of Pine and North Water Streets. The grounds slopedtoward the banks of the river. It had a broad piazza looking south, andbefore it lay a green lawn shaded by Lombardy poplars and a cottonwoodtree. Across the river rose Fort Dearborn, amid groves of locust trees, the national flag blooming, as it were, above it. 

The cottonwood tree in the yard was planted by John Kinzie, and liveduntil Chicago became a great city, in Long John Wentworth's day. 

The old residents of Chicago will ever recall the beauty of the outlookfrom the south piazza. At the dull period of the agency, only an Indiancanoe, perhaps from Mackinaw, disturbed the peace of the river. 

It was on this piazza that on a June morning was heard the chorus ofMoore's Canadian Boat Song on the Chicago River, and here General LewisCass presently appeared. The great men of the New West often gatheredhere after that. Here the best stories of the lake used to be told byvoyagers, and Mark Beaubien, we may well suppose, often played hisviolin. 

The scene of the lake and river from the place was changed by moonlightinto romance. 

Amid such scenes the old Chief Shaubena related the legends of thetribes, and Mrs. Kinzie the thrilling episodes of the massacre of 1812. Jasper, we may imagine, joined the company, with the beautiful spiritualtales of the Rhine, and Waubeno added his delightful wonder-tale of thewhite Indian, whose feet brought good fortune. No one then dreamed thatJohn Kinzie's home stood for two millions of people who would come therebefore the century should close, or that the cool cottonwood tree wouldthrow its shade over some of the grandest scenes in the march of theworld. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

LAFAYETTE AT KASKASKIA--THE STATELY MINUET. 

Jasper made the best use of the story-telling method of influence in hisschool in the little cabin on the lake near Chicago River. He sought toimpart moral ideas by the old Roman fables and German folk-lore stories. He often told the tale of the poor girl who went out for a few drops ofwater for her dying mother, in the water famine, and how her dipper waschanged into silver, gold, and diamonds, as she shared the water withthe sufferers on her return. But neither Æsop nor fairy lore soinfluenced the Indian boys as his story of the Indiana boy who defendedthe turtles and pitied the turtle with the broken shell. 

"I would like to meet him, " said Waubeno, one day when the story hadbeen told. "What is his name, Parable? What do you call him by?"

"Lincoln, " said Jasper, "Abraham Lincoln. "

"Where does he live, Parable?"

"On Pigeon Creek, in Indiana. "

"Is the place far away?"

"Yes, very far away by water, and a hard journey by land. Pigeon Creekis far away, near the Ohio River; south, Waubeno--far away to thesouth. "

"Will you ever go there again?"

"Yes--I hope to go there again, and to take you along with me, " saidJasper. "I have planned to go down the Illinois in the spring, in acanoe, to the Mississippi, and down the Mississippi to the Ohio, andvisit Kaskaskia, and thence along the Ohio to the Wabash, and to thehome where the boy lives who defended the turtles. It will be a longjourney, and I expect to stop at many places, and preach and teach andform schools. I want you to go with me and guide my canoe. All theserivers are beautiful in summer. They are shaded by trees, and runthrough prairies of flowers. The waters are calm, and the skies arebright, and the birds sing continually. O Waubeno, this is a beautifulworld to those who use it rightly--a beautiful, beautiful world!"

"Me will go, " said Waubeno. "Me would see that boy. I want to see astory boy, as you say. "

The attempt to establish an Indian school on the Chicago was not whollysuccessful. The pupils did not remain long enough to receive theintended influence. They came from encampments that were never stable. The Indian village was there one season, and gone the next. The Indianswho came in canoes to the agency soon went away again. Jasper, in thespring of 1825, resolved to carry out the journey that he had describedto Waubeno, and with the first warm winds he and the Indian boy set outfor Kaskaskia by the way of the Illinois to the Mississippi, and by theMississippi to the Kaskaskia. 

It was a long journey. Jasper stopped often at the Indian encampmentsand the new settlements. Waubeno was a faithful friend, and he came tolove him for true-heartedness, sympathy, and native worth of soul. Heoften tried to teach him by stories, but as often as he said, "Now, Waubeno, we will talk, " he would say, "Tell me the one with brokenshell"--meaning the story. There was some meaning behind this story ofthe turtle with the broken shell that had completely won the heart ofWaubeno. The boy Abraham Lincoln was his hero. Again and again, after hehad listened to the simple narrative, he asked:

"Is the story boy alive?"

"Yes, Waubeno. "

"And we will meet him?"

"Yes. "

"That is good. I feel for him here, " and he would lay his hand on hisheart. "I love the story boy. "

They traveled slowly. After a long journey down the Illinois, theMississippi rolled before them in the full tides of early spring. Theypassed St. Louis, and one late April evening found them before the onceroyal town of Kaskaskia. 

The bell was ringing as they landed, the bell that had been cast in fairRochelle, and that was the first bell to ring between the Alleghaniesand the Mississippi. Most of the black-robed missionaries were gone, ashad the high-born French officers, with their horses, sabers, andbanner-plumes, who once sought treasure and fame in this grand town ofthe Mississippi Valley. The Bourbon lilies had fallen from old FortChartres a generation ago, and the British cross had come down, andto-day all the houses, new and old, were decked with the stars andstripes. It was not a holiday. What did it mean?

Jasper and Waubeno entered the old French town, and gazed at the brickbuildings, the antique roofs, the high dormer windows, and the fadedhouses of by-gone priest and nun. The tavern was covered with flags, French and American, as were the grand house of William Morrison and thebeautiful Edgar mansion. The house once occupied by the Frenchcommandant was wrapped in the national colors. It had been the firstState House of Illinois. A hundred years before--just one hundredyears--Kaskaskia Commons had received its grand name from his mostChristian Majesty Louis XV, and it then seemed likely to become thecapital of the French mid-continent empire in the New World. The Jesuitsflocked here, zealous for the conversion of the Indian races. Here camemen of rank and military glory, and Fort Chartres rose near it, grandand powerful as if to awe the world. But there was a foe in the fort ofthe French heart, and the boundless empire faded, and the old Frenchtown went to the American pioneer, and the fort became a ruin, likeLouisburg at Cape Breton. 

As Jasper and Waubeno passed along the broad streets they noticed thatthe town was filled with country people, and that there were Indiansamong them. 

One of these Indians approached Waubeno, and said:

"She--yonder--see--Mary Panisciowa--daughter of the Great Chief--MaryPanisciowa. "

Waubeno followed with his eye the daughter of the Chief of the SixNations. He went forward with the crowd and came to the house that shewas making her home, and asked to meet her. Jasper had followed him. 

They turned aside from the street, which was full of excitedpeople--excited Jasper knew not why. The door of the house where MaryPanisciowa was visiting stood open, and they were asked to enter. 

She looked a queen, yet she had the graces of the English and Frenchpeople. She was a most accomplished woman. She spoke both English andFrench readily, her education having been conducted by an American agentto whom she had been commended by her father. 

"This is good news, " she said. 

"What?" said Jasper. "Good news comes from God. Yet all events are newsfrom heaven. The people seem greatly exercised. What has happened?"

"Lafayette, the great Lafayette--have you not heard?--the marquis--he ison his way to Kaskaskia, and that is why I am here. My father foughtunder him, and the general sent him a letter thanking him for hisservices in the American cause. It was written forty years ago. I havebrought it. I hope to meet him. Would you like to see it?--a letter fromthe great Lafayette. "

Mary Panisciowa took from her bosom a faded letter, and said:

"My father fought for the new people, and I have taken up their religionand customs. I suppose that you have done the same, " she said toWaubeno. 

"No; that can not be, for me. "

"Why? I supposed that you were a Christian, as you travel with theTunker. "

"Mary Panisciowa knows how my father died. I am his son. I swore to betrue to his name. The Tunker says that I must forswear myself to becomea Christian. That I shall never do. I respect the teachings of your newreligion, and I love the Tunker and shall always be true to him, but Ishall be true to the memory of my father. Mary Panisciowa, think how hedied, and of the men who killed him. They claimed to be Christians. Think of that! I am not a Christian. Mary Panisciowa, there is a spotthat burns in my heart. I do not dissemble. I do not deceive. But thatfire will burn there till I have kept my vow, and I shall do it. "

"Waubeno, " said the woman, "listen to better counsels. Revenge onlyspreads the fires of evil. Forgiveness quenches them. --That is a nobleletter, " she said to Jasper. 

"Yes, a noble letter, and the marquis is an apostle of human liberty, afriend of all men everywhere. What brings him here?"

"The old French and new English families. His visit is unexpected. Thepeople can not receive him as they ought to, but he is to dine at thetavern, and there are to be two grand receptions at the great houses, one at Mr. Edgar's. I wish I could see him and show him this letter. Ishall try. But they have not invited me. They are proud people, and theywill not invite me; but I shall try to see him. It would be the happiesthour of my life if I could take the hand of the great Lafayette. "

Mary Panisciowa was thrilled with her desire to meet General Lafayette. 

Cannons boomed, drums and fifes played, and all the people hurriedtoward the landing. The marquis came in the steamer Natchez from St. Louis. When Mary Panisciowa heard the old bell ringing she knew that themarquis was coming, and she hid the faded old letter in her bosom andwept. She sent a messenger to the tavern, who asked Lafayette if hewould meet the daughter of Panisciowa, and receive a message from her. 

Just at night she looked out of the door, and saw an officer in uniformand a party of her own people coming toward the house. The officerappeared before the door, touched his head and bowed, and said:

"Mary Panisciowa, I am told. "

"My father was Panisciowa. "

"He fought under General Lafayette?"

"Yes, he fought under Lafayette, and I have a letter from the generalhere, written to him more than forty years ago. Will you read it?"

The officer took the letter, read it, and said:

"You should meet the general. "

"You are very kind, sir. I want to meet him; but how? There is to be areception at the Morrisons, but I am not invited. The Governor is to bethere. But they would not invite me. "

"Come to the reception at the Morrisons. I will be responsible. Themarquis will welcome you. He is a gentleman. To say that a man is agentleman, is to cover all right conduct. Bring your letter, and he willreceive you. I will speak to Governor Coles about you. You will come?"

"May my friend Waubeno come with me? I am the daughter of a chief, andhe is the son of a warrior. It would be befitting that we should cometogether. I wish that he might see the great Lafayette. "

"As you like, " said the officer, hurrying away with uncovered head. 

Mary Panisciowa prepared to go to the grand reception. Early in theevening she and Waubeno, followed by Jasper, came up to the Morrisonmansion, where a kind of court reception was to be held. 

The streets were full of people. The houses were everywhere illuminated, and people were hurrying to and fro, or listening to the music in thehall. 

Lafayette was now nearly threescore and ten years of age, the belovedhero of France and America, and the leader of human liberty in alllands. He had left Havre on July 12th, 1824, and had arrived in New Yorkon the 15th of August. He was accompanied by his son, George WashingtonLafayette, and his private secretary, M. Levasseur. His passage throughthe country had been a triumphal procession, under continuous arches offlags, evergreens, and flowers, bearing the words, "Welcome, Lafayette. "Forty years had passed since he was last in America. The thirteen Stateshad become twenty-four. He had visited Joseph Bonaparte, the grave ofWashington, and the battle-field of Yorktown. His reception in the Southhad been an outpouring of hearts. And now he had turned aside from thegreat Mississippi to see Kaskaskia, the romantic town of the vanishedFrench empire of the Mississippi. 

Mary and Waubeno waited outside of the door. The Indian woman listenedfor a time to the gay music, and watched the bright uniforms as theypassed to and fro under the glittering astrals. At last an Americanofficer came down the steps, lifted his hat, and said to the two Indiansand to Jasper:

"Follow me. "

Lafayette had already received the public men of the place. Airy musicarose, and the officials and their wives and guests were going throughthe form of the old court minuet. 

The music of Mozart's Don Giovanni minuet has been heard in a thousandhalls of state and at the festivals of many lands. We may imagine thecharm that such music had here, in this oaken room of the forest andprairie. At the head of the plumed ladies and men in glittering uniformsstood the Marquis of France, whom the world delighted to honor, and ledthe stately obeisances to the picturesque movement of the music underthe flags and astrals. A remnant of the old romantic French familieswere there, soldiers of the Revolution, the leaders of the new order ofAmerican life, Governor Coles and his officers, and rich traders of St. Louis. As the music swayed these stately forms backward and forward withthe fascinating poetry of motion that can hardly be called a dance, thetwo Indian faces caught the spirit of the scene. Waubeno had never heardthe music of the minuet before, and the strains entranced him as theyrose and fell. 

[Illustration: Minuet from Don Giovanni. 

BY MOZART. ARR. BY CARL ERICH. 

Published by the permission of Arthur P. Schmidt. 

Copyright, 1880, by Carl Prüfer. ]

After the minuet, Lafayette and Governor Coles received thetowns-people, and among the first to be presented to the marquis wasMary Panisciowa. 

She bowed modestly, and told him her simple tale. The marquis listenedat first with courtly interest, then with profound emotion. She drewfrom her bosom the letter that he had written to her father, the chief. His own writing brought before him the scenes of almost a half-centurygone, the struggle for liberty in the new land to which he had given hisyoung soul. He remembered the old chief, and the forest scenes of thoseheroic years; Washington, and the generals he had loved, most of whomwere gone, arose again. His heart filled with emotion, and he said:

"Nothing in my visit here has affected me so much as this. I thank youfor seeking me. I welcome you with all my heart. Let me spend as muchtime as I may in your company. Your father was a hero, and your presencefills my heart with no common pleasure and delight. Stay with me. "

The marquis welcomed Waubeno cordially, and expressed his pleasure atmeeting him here. At the romantic festival no people were more warmlymet than the chief's daughter and her escort. 

"The French have always been true to the Indians, " said Waubeno, onleaving the general, "and the Indians have been as true to the French. "

"Never did rulers have better subjects, " said the general. 

"Never did subjects have better rulers, " said Waubeno, almost repeatingthe scene of Dick Whittington, thrice Lord Mayor of London, by virtue ofhis wonderful cat, to King Henry. 

The Indians withdrew amid the gay strains of national music, the statelyminuet haunting Waubeno and ringing in his ears. 

He tried to hum the rhythms of the beautiful air of the courts. Jaspersaw how the music had affected him, and that he was happy andsusceptible, and said:

"Waubeno, you have met a man to-night who would forget his own positionand pleasure to do honor to the Indian girl. "

"Yes, I am sure of that. "

"You are your best self to-night--in your best mood; the music hasawakened your better soul. You remember your promise?"

"Yes, but, Brother Jasper--"

"What, Waubeno?"

"Lafayette is a _Frenchman_, and--a gentleman. The Indians and French donot spill each other's blood. Why?"

CHAPTER XIV. 

WAUBENO AND YOUNG LINCOLN. 

One leafy afternoon in May, Jasper and Waubeno came to Aunt Olive's, atPigeon Creek. Southern Indiana is a glory of sunshine and flowers atthis season of the year, and their journey had been a very pleasant one. 

They had met emigrants on the Ohio, and had seen the white sail of theprairie schooner in all of the forest ways. 

"The world seems moving to the west, " said Jasper, "as in the whiteIndian's dream. There is need of my work more and more. Every child thatI can teach to read will make better this new empire that is beingsifted out of the lands. Every school that I can found is likely tobecome a college, and I am glad to be a wanderer in the wilderness forthe sake of my fellow-men. "

In the open door, under the leafing vines, stood Aunt Indiana, in cap, wig, and spectacles. She arched her elbow over all to shade her eyes. 

"The old Tunker, as I live, come again, and brought his Indian boy withhim!" said she. "Well, you are welcome to Pigeon Creek. You left a sightof good thoughts here when you were here before. You're a good pitcher, if you are a little cracked, with the handle all one side. Come in, andwelcome. Take a chair and sit down--

 ''Tis a long time since I see you. How does your wife and children do?'

as the poet sings. "

"I am well, and am glad to be toiling for the bread that does not failin the wilderness. How are the people of Pigeon Creek--how are my goodfriends the Lincolns?"

"The Linkens? Well, Tom Linken makes out to hold together after afashion--all dreams and expectations. 'The thing that hath been is, ' theScriptur' says, and Thomas Linken _is_--just as he always was, andalways will be to the end of the chapter. He's got to the p'int afterwhich there is no more to be told, long ago. The life of such as herepeats itself over and over, like a buzzin' spinnin'-wheel. And _Miss_Linken, she is as patient as ever; 'tis her mission just to be patientwith old Tom. "

"And Abraham?"

"That boy Abe--the one that we prophesied about! Well, elder, I do hateto say, 'cause it makes you out to be no prophet, and you mean well, goin' about tryin' to get a little larnin' into the skulls of the peoplein this new country; but that boy promises pretty slim, though I ain'tnothin' to say agin' him. In the first place, he's grown up to be agiant, all legs and ears, mouth and eyes. Why, he is the tallest youngman in this part of Indiana!

"Then, his head's off. He goes about readin' books, just as he did whenyou were here last--this book, and that book, and the other book; andthen he all runs to talk, which some folks takes for wisdom. He tellsstories that makes everybody laugh, and he seems very chipper and happy, but they do say that he has melancholy spells, and is all down in themouth at times. But he's good-hearted, and speaks the truth, and helpspoor folks, and there's many a wuss one than Abraham Linken now. Theydidn't invite him to the great weddin' of the Grigsbys, cos he's sohomely, and hadn't anythin' to wear but leather breeches, and they onlycome down a little below his knees. Queer-lookin' he'd 'a' been to aweddin'!

"He felt orful bad at not bein' invited, and made some poetry about 'em. When I feel poetic I talk prose, and give people as good as they send. Idon't write no poetry. 

"You are welcome to stay here, elder. You needn't go to the Linkens'. Ihave a prophet's chamber in my house--though you ain't a prophet--andyou can always sleep there, and your Indian boy can lay down in thekitchen; and I can cook, elder--now you know that--and I won't ask ye tocobble; your time is too valuable for that. "

Jasper, who was not greatly influenced by Aunt Indiana's unfavorableviews of her poor neighbor, went to see Thomas Lincoln. Waubeno wentwith him. Here the young Indian met with a hearty greeting from both Mr. And Mrs. Lincoln. 

"I am glad that you have come again, " said poor Mrs. Lincoln to Jasper. "You comforted me and encouraged me when you were here last. I want totalk with you. Abe has all grown up, and wants to make a new start inlife; and I wish to see him started right. There's so much in gettin'started right; a right start is all the way, sometimes. We don't traveltwice over the same years. I want you to talk with him. You have seenthis world, and we haven't, but you kind o' brought the world to us whenyou were here last. Elder, you don't know how much good you are doin'. "

"Where is Abraham?" asked Jasper. 

"He's gone to the store for the evenin'. He's been keepin' store forJones, in Gentryville, and he spends his evenin's there. There ain'tmany places to go to around here, and Abe he's turned the store into akind of debatin' club. He speaks pieces there. There's goin' to be adebate there to-night. He's great on debatin'. I do hope you'll go. Thesubject of the debate to-night is, 'Which has the greater cause forcomplaint, the negro or the Indian?'"

"I'm goin' over to the store to-night myself, elder, " said ThomasLincoln. "You must go along with me and hear Abraham talk, and then comeback and spend the night here. The old woman has been hopin' that youwould come. It pleased her mightily, what you said good about Abrahamwhen you was here last. She sets her eyes by Abraham, and he does byher. Abraham and I don't get along none too well. The fact is, he allruns to books, and is kind o' queer. He takes after his mother'sfolks--they all had houses in the air, and lived in 'em. Abe might makesomethin'; there's somethin' in him, if larnin' don't spile him. I haveto warn him against larnin' all the time, but it all goes agin thegrain, and I declare sometimes I do get all out of patience, and cleandiscouraged. Why, elder, he even takes a book out when he goes to shuckcorn, and he composes poetry on the wooden shovel, and planes it outwith my plane, and wears the shovel all up. There, now, lookthere!--could you stand it?"

Thomas Lincoln took up a large wooden fire-shovel, and held it beforethe eyes of the Tunker. On the great bowl of the shovel were penned somelines in coal. 

"What does that read, elder?--I can't tell. I ain't got no larnin' tospare. What does it read, elder?"

Jasper scanned the writing on the surface of the back of the shovel. Thewriting was clear and plain. Mrs. Lincoln came and looked over hisshoulder. 

"Writ it himself, likely as not, " said she. "Abe writes poetry; he can'thelp it sometimes--it's a gift. Read it, elder. "

Jasper read slowly:

 "'Time! what an empty vapor 'tis! And days, how swift they are! Swift as an arrow speed our lives, Swift as the shooting star. The present moment--'"

"He didn't finish it, did he, elder? I think it is real pooty--don'tyou?"

Mrs. Lincoln turned her broad, earnest face toward the Tunker. 

"Real pooty, ain't it?"

"Yes, " said Jasper. "He'll be likely to do some great work in life, andleave it unfinished. It comes to me so. "

[Illustration: A QUEER PLACE TO WRITE POETRY. ]

"Don't say so, elder. His father don't praise him much, but he's realgood to me, and I hope no evil will ever happen to him. I set lots ofstore by Abe. I don't know any difference between him and my own son. His poor, dead mother, that lies out there all alone under the trees, knows that I have done by him as if he were my own. You know, theguardian angels of children see the face of the Father, and I kind o'think that she is his guardian; and if she is, now, I hain't anything toreflect upon. "

"Only you're spilin' him--that's all, " said Mr. Lincoln. "Some women areso good that they are not good for anything, and between me and Sarahand his poor, dead mother, Abraham has never had the discipline that heought to have had. But Andrew Crawford, the schoolmaster, and JosiahCrawford, the farmer, did their duty by him. Come, elder, let us go upto Jones's store, and talk politics a while. Jones, he's a Jackson man. He sets great store by Abe, and thinks, like you and Sarah, that the boywill make somethin' some day. Well, I hope he will--can't tell. "

Mr. Jones's store was the popular resort of Gentryville. Says one of theold pioneers, Dougherty: "Lincoln drove a team, and sold goods forJones. Jones told me that Lincoln read all of his books, and I rememberthe History of the United States as one. Jones afterward said to me thatLincoln would make a great man one of these days--had said so longbefore to other people, and so as far back as 1828 and 1829. "

The store was full of men and boys when Thomas Lincoln and Jasper andWaubeno arrived. Dennis Hanks was there, and the Grigsbys. JosiahCrawford, who had made Abraham pull fodder for three days for allowing abook that he had lent him to get wet one rainy night, was seated on abarrel. His nose was very long, and he had a high forehead, and widelook across the forehead. He looked very wise and thought himself aSolomon. 

The men and boys all seemed to be glad to see the Tunker, and theygreeted Waubeno kindly, though curiously, and plied him with civilquestions about Black Hawk. 

There was to be a debate that evening, and Mr. Jones called the men toorder, and each one mounted a barrel and lit his pipe--or all exceptAbraham and Waubeno, who did not smoke, but who stood near each other, almost side by side. 

"Abraham, " said Thomas Lincoln, "you'll have to argue the p'int for theIndian well to-night, or--there he is!"--pointing to Waubeno--"he'llanswer ye. "

The debate went slowly at first, then grew exciting. When AbrahamLincoln's turn came to speak, all the store grew still. The subject ofthe debate was, as Thomas Lincoln had said: "Which has the greater causefor complaint, the Indian or the negro?"

Abraham Lincoln claimed the Indian was more wronged than the negro, andhis homely face glowed as with a strange fire as he pictured the redman's wrongs. He towered above the men like a giant, and moved his armsas though they possessed some invisible power. 

Waubeno fixed his eyes on him, and felt the force and thrust of hisevery word. 

"If I were a negro, " said Lincoln, "I would hope that some redeemer anddeliverer would arise, like Moses of old. But if I were an Indian, whatwould I have to hope for, if I fell under the avarice of the white man?Let the past answer that. "

"Let the heavens answer that, " said Waubeno, "or let their gates be everclosed. "

Thomas Lincoln started. 

"Waubeno, you have come from Black Hawk. He slays men, and we know him. An Indian killed my father. "

"An Indian killed your father--and what did you do?"

"My brother Mordecai avenged his death, and caused many Indians to bitethe dust. "

"White brother, " said Waubeno, "a white man killed my father. What ought_I_ to do?"

The men held their pipes in silence. 

"My father was an innocent man, " said the pioneer. 

"My father was an honorable warrior, " said Waubeno, "and defended hisown rights--rights as dear to him as your father's, or yours, or mine. What ought _I_ to do?" He turned to young Lincoln. "What would _you_do?"

"I hold that in all things right is might, and I defend the right of anIndian as I would the rights of a white man, but I never would shed anyman's blood for avarice or malice. Waubeno, I would defend you in acause of right against the world. I would rather have the approval ofHeaven than the praise of all mankind. "

"Brother, " said Waubeno, "I believe that you speak true, but I do notknow. If I only knew that you spoke true, I would not do as Mordecaidid. I would forgive the white man. "

The candles smoked, and the men talked long into the night. At lastThomas Lincoln and Jasper and Waubeno went home, where Mrs. Lincoln wasawaiting them. They expected Abraham to follow them. They sat up thatnight late, and talked about the prairie country, and the prospects ofthe emigrants to Illinois. 

"Now you had better go to rest, " said Sarah Lincoln. "I will sit upuntil Abe comes. I do not see why he is so late to-night, when theTunker is here, too, and the Indian boy. "

"He's with the Grigsbys, I guess, " said Mr. Lincoln. 

The two men went to their beds, and Waubeno laid down on a mat on thefloor. Hour after hour passed, and Mrs. Lincoln went again and again tothe door and listened, but Abraham did not return. It was midnight whenshe laid down, but even then it was to listen, and not to sleep. 

In the morning Abraham returned. His eyes were sunken and his cheekswere white. 

"Get me some coffee, mother, " he said. "I have not slept a winkto-night. "

"Why, where have you been, Abraham?"

"Watchin'--watchin' with a frozen drunken man. I found him on the road, and carried him to Dennis's on my back. He seemed to be dead, but Irubbed him all night long, and he breathed again. "

"Why did you not get some one to help you?"

"The boys all left me. They said that old Holmes was not worth revivin', even if he had any life left in him; that it would be better for himselfand everybody if he were left to perish. "

"Holmes! Did you carry that man on your back, Abraham?"

"Yes. I could not leave him by the road. He is a human being, and I didby him as I would have him do by me if I lost my moral senses. They toldme to leave him to his fate, but I couldn't, mother. I couldn't. "

Waubeno gazed on the young giant as he drank his coffee, and sank into adeep slumber on a mat in the room. He watched him as he slept. 

When he woke, Jasper said to him:

"Abraham, I wish you to know this Indian boy. I think there is a nativenobility in him. Do you remember Johnnie Kongapod's story, at which thepeople all used to laugh?"

"Yes, elder. "

"Abraham Lincoln, I can believe that story was true. I have faith inmen. You do. Your faith will make you great. "

CHAPTER XV. 

THE DEBATING SCHOOL. 

There were some queer people in every town and community of the newWest, and these were usually active at the winter debating school. Theseschools of the people for the discussion of life, politics, literature, were, on the whole, excellent influences; they developed what wasoriginal in the thought and character of a place, and stimulated readingand study. If a man was a theorist, he could here find a voice for hisopinions; and if he were a genius, he could here uncage his gifts andfind recognition. Nearly all of the early clergymen, lawyers, congressmen, and leaders of the people of early Indiana and Illinoiswere somehow developed and educated in these so-called debating schools. 

Among the odd people sure to be found in such rural assemblies were theman with visionary schemes for railroads, canals, and internalimprovements, the sanguine inventor, the noisy free-thinker, thebenevolent Tunker, the man who could preach without notes by "directinspiration, " the man who thought that the world was about to come to anend, and the patriot who pictured the American eagle as a bird of fateand divinity. The early pioneer preacher learned to talk in public inthe debating school. The young lawyer here made his first pleas. 

The frequent debates in Jones's store led to the formation of a debatingschool in Gentryville and Pigeon Creek. In this society young AbrahamLincoln was the leader, and his cousin Dennis Hanks and his uncle Johnwere prominent disputants. The story-telling blacksmith furnished muchof the humor, and Josiah Crawford, or "Blue-Nose Crawford, " as he wascalled, was regarded as the man of hard sense on such occasions asrequire a Solomon, or a Daniel, or a Portia, and he was very proud to beso regarded. 

There was a revival of interest in the cause of temperance in thecountry at this time, and the noble conduct of Abraham Lincoln, incarrying to his cousin Dennis's the poor drunkard whom he had found inthe highway on the chilly night after the debate at Jones's store, mayhave led to a plan for a great debate on the subject of the pledge, which was appointed to take place in the log school-house at PigeonCreek. The plan was no more than spoken of at the store than it began toexcite general attention. 

"We must debate this subject of the temperance pledge, " said ThomasLincoln, "and get the public sense. New times are at hand. On generalprinciples, I'm a temperance man; and if nobody drank once, then nobodywould drink twice, and the world would all go dry. But there's thecorn-huskin's, and the hoe-down, and the mowin' times, and thehog-killin's, and the barn-raisin's. It is only natural that men shouldwet their whistles at such times as these. In the old Scriptur' timespeople who wanted to get great spiritual power abstained from strongdrink; but you can't expect no such people as those down here at PigeonCreek. "

"But Abe is a temperancer, and I want the debate to come off in goodshape, so that all you uns can hear what he has to say. "

It was decided by the leading debaters that the subject for the debateshould be, "Ought temperance people to sign the temperance pledge?" andthat Abraham Lincoln should sustain the affirmative view of thequestion. 

The success of young Lincoln as a debater had greatly troubled AuntIndiana. 

"It's all like the rattlin' of a pea-pod in the blasts o' ortum, " shesaid. "It don't signify anything. He just rains words upon ye, and makesye laugh, and the first thing ye know he's got ye. Beware--beware! hiswords are just like stool-pigeons, what brings you down to get shot. It's amazin' what a curi'us gift of talk that boy has!"

When she heard of the plan of the debate, and the part assigned to youngLincoln, she said:

"'Twill be a great night for Abe, unless I hinder it. I'm agin thetemperance pledge. Stands to reason that a man's no right to sign awayhis liberty. And I'm agin Abe Linkern, because he's too smart foranythin', and lives up in the air like a kite; and outthinks otherpeople, because he sits round readin' and turkey-dreamin' when he oughtto be at work. I shall work agin him. "

And she did. She first consulted upon the subject with JosiahCrawford--"the Esquire, " as she called him--and he promised to give thenegative of the question all the weight of his ability. 

There was a young man in Gentryville named John Short, who thought thathe had had a call to preach, and who often came to Aunt Indiana fortheological instruction. 

"Don't run round the fields readin' books, like Abraham Linkern, " shewarned him. "He'll never amount to a hill o' beans. The true way tobecome a preacher is to go into the desk, and open the Bible, and putyer fingers on the first passage that you come to, and then open yermouth, and the Lord will fill it. I do not believe in edicatedministers. They trust in chariots and horses. Go right from the plow tothe pulpit, and the heavens will help ye. "

John Short thought Aunt Indiana's advice sound, and he resolved tofollow it. He once made an appointment to preach after this unpreparedmanner in the school-house. He could not read very well. He had onceread at school, "And he smote the Hittite that he died" "And he smotethe Hi-ti-ti-ty, that he did, " and he opened the Bible at random for aScripture lesson on this trying occasion. His eye fell upon the hardchapters in Chronicles beginning "Adam, Sheth, Enoch. " He succeeded verywell in the reading until he came to the generations of Japheth and thesons of Gomer, which were mountains too difficult to pass. He lifted hiseyes and said, "And so it goes on to the end of the chapter, withoutregard to particulars. "

"That chapter was given me to try me, " he said, as a kind of commentary, "and, my friends, I have been equal to it. And now you shall hear mepreach, and after that we'll take up a contribution for the newmeetin'-house. "

The sermon was a short one, and began amid much mental confusion. "Acertain man, " he began, "went down from Jerusalem to Jericho and fellamong thieves; and the thieves sprang up and choked him; and he said, 'Who is my neighbor?' You all know who your neighbors are, O myfriends. " Here followed a long pause. He added:

"Always be good to your neighbors. And now we will pass around thecontribution-box, and after that we'll _all_ talk. "

This beginning of his work as a speaker did not look promising, but hehad conducted "a meetin', " and that fact made John Short a shining lightin Aunt Indiana's eyes. To this young man the good woman went for achampion of her ideas in the great debate. 

But, notwithstanding her theory, she proceeded to instruct him as towhat he should say on the occasion. 

"Say to 'em, John, that he who comes to ye with a temperance pledgeinsults yer character. It is like askin' ye to promise not to become ajackass; and what would ye think of a man who would ask ye to sign apaper like that? or to sign the Ten Commandments? or to promise thatye'd never lie any _more_? It's one's duty to maintain one's dignity ofcharacter, and, John, I want ye to open yer mouth in defense of therights of liberty on the occasion; and do yer duty, and bring down thePhilistine with a pebble-stun, and 'twill be a glorious night for PigeonCreek. "

The views of Aunt Olive Eastman on preaching without preparation and ontemperance were common at this time in Indiana and Illinois. By notunderstanding a special direction of our Lord to his disciples as towhat they should do in times of persecution, many of the pioneerexhorters used to speak from the text on which their eyes first restedon opening the Bible. They seemed to think that this mental field neededno planting or culture--no training like Paul's in the desert of Arabia, and that the pulpit stood outside of the universal law. The moraleducation of the pledge of Father Matthew was just beginning to exciteattention. Strange as it may seem, the thoughts and plans of the Irishapostle of temperance and founder of the Order of St. Vincent de Paulseemed to have come to Abraham Lincoln in his early days much asoriginal inspiration. His first public speech was on this subject. Itwas made in Springfield, Illinois, in 1842, and advocated the plan whichFather Matthew was then originating in Ireland, the education of thepublic conscience by the moral force of the temperance pledge. 

It was a lengthening autumn evening when the debate took place in theschool-house in the timber. The full moon rose like a disk of gold asthe sun sank in clouds of crimson fire, and the light of the day becamea mellowed splendor during half of the night. The corn-fields in theclearings rose like armies, bearing food on every hand. Flocks of birdsdarkened the sunset air, and little animals of the woods ran to and froamid the crisp and fallen leaves. The air was vital with the coolnessthat brings the frost and causes the trees to unclasp their countlessshells, barks, and burrs, and let the ripe nuts fall. 

The school-room filled with earnest faces early in the evening. Thepeople came over from Gentryville, among them Mr. Gentry himself and Mr. Jones the store-keeper. Women brought tallow dips for lights, andcurious candlesticks and snuffers. 

Aunt Indiana and Josiah Crawford came together, an imposing-lookingcouple, who brought with them the air of special sense and wisdom. AuntIndiana wore a bonnet of enormous proportions, which distinguished herfrom the other women, who wore hoods. She brought in her hand a brasscandlestick, which the children somehow associated with the ancientScripture figures, and which looked as though it might have belonged tothe temples of old. She was tall and stately, and the low room was tooshort for her soaring bonnet, but she bent her head, and sat down nearJosiah Crawford, and set the candle in the shining candlestick, and casta glance of conscious superiority over the motley company. 

The moderator rapped for order and stated the question for debate, andmade some inspiring remarks about "parliamentary" rules. John Shortopened the debate with a plea for independence of character, andself-respect and personal liberty. 

"What would you think, " he asked, "of a man who would come to you _inthe night_ and ask you to sign a paper not to lie any more? What? Youwould think that he thought you had been lying. Would you sign thatpaper? No! You would call out the dogs of retribution, and take downyour father's sword, and you would uplift your foot into the indignantair, and protect your family name and honor. Who would be called a liar, in a cowardly way like that? And who would be called a drunkard, bybeing asked to sign the paper of a tee-totaler? Who?"

Here John Short paused. He presently said:

"Hoo?"--which sounded in the breathless silence like the inquiries ofan owl. But his ideas had all taken wings again and left him, as on theoccasion when he attempted to preach without notes or preparation. 

Aunt Indiana looked distressed. She leaned over toward Josiah Crawford, and said:

"Say somethin'. "

But Josiah hesitated. Then, to the great amusement of all, Aunt Indianarose to the ceiling, bent her generously bonneted head, stretched forthher arm, and said:

"He is quite right--quite right, Josiah. Is he not, Josiah?"

"Quite right, " said Josiah. 

"People do not talk about what is continuous--what goes right along. AmI not right, Josiah?"

"Quite right! quite right!"

"If a man tells me he is honest, he is not honest. If he tells me thathe is pure, he isn't pure. If he were honest or pure he says nothingabout it. Am I not right, Josiah?"

"Quite right! quite right!"

"Nobody tells about his stomach unless it is out of order; and no oneputs cotton into keyholes unless he himself is peeking through keyholes. Am I not right, Josiah?"

"Quite right! quite right!"

"And no one asks ye to sign a temperance pledge unless he's been adrunkard himself, or thinks ye are one, or likely to be. Ain't I right, Josiah?"

"Quite right!"

"The best way to support temperance is to live temperately and saynothin' about it. There, now! If I had held my peace, the stones wouldhave cried out. Olive Eastman has spoken, and Josiah says that I amright, and I'm agin the temperance pledge, and there's nothin' more tobe said about it. "

Aunt Indiana sat down amid much applause. Then Jasper rose, and showedthat intemperance was a great evil, and that public sentiment should beeducated against it. 

"This education should begin in childhood, " he said, "in habits ofself-respect and self-restraint. The child should be first instructed tosay "No" to himself. "

He proceeded to argue for the temperance pledge from his point of view. 

"The world is educated by pledges, " he said. "The patriot is kept in hisline of march by the pledge; the business man makes a pledge when hesigns a note; and the Christian takes pledges when he joins the Church. We should be willing to take any pledge that will make life better. Ifeating meat cause my brother to stumble and offend, then I will not eatmeat. I will sacrifice myself always to that which will help the worldand honor God. I am sorry to differ from the good woman who has spoken, but I am for the use of the pledge. I never drank strong drink, and thishand shall sign any pledge that will help a poor tempted brother by myexample. "

Tall Abraham Lincoln arose. 

"There! he's goin' to speak--I knew he'd been preparin', " whispered AuntIndiana to Josiah Crawford. "Wonder what he'll have to say. _You'll_have to answer him. He's just a regular Philistine, and goes stalkin'through the land, and turns people's heads; and he's just Tom Linkern'sson, who is shiftless and poor, and I'm goin' agin him. "

The tall young man stood silent. The people were silent. Aunt Indianagave her puncheon seat a push to break the force of that silence, andwhispered to Josiah:

"There! they are all ears. I told ye 'twould be so. You must answerhim. "

Young Lincoln spoke slowly, and after this manner:

"My friends: When you pledge yourself to enforce a principle, youidentify yourself with that principle, and give it power. "

There was a silence. Then the people filled the little room withapplause. He continued most impressively in the words of grandoration:[A]

[Footnote A: We use here some of the exact sentences which young Lincolnemployed on a similar occasion at Springfield. ]

"The universal sense of mankind on any subject is an argument, or atleast an influence, not easily overcome. The success of the argument infavor of the existence of an over-ruling Providence mainly depends uponthat sense; and men ought not, in justice, to be denounced for yieldingto it in any case, or giving it up slowly, especially when they arebacked by interest, fixed habits, or burning appetites. 

"If it be true that those who have suffered by intemperance personallyand have reformed are the most powerful and efficient instruments topush the reformation to ultimate success, it does not follow that thosewho have not suffered have no part left them to perform. Whether or notthe world would be vastly benefited by a total and final banishment fromit of all intoxicating drinks seems to me not now an open question. Three fourths of mankind confess the affirmative with their tongues;and, I believe, all the rest acknowledge it in their hearts. 

"But it is said by some, that men will think and act for themselves;that none will disuse spirits or anything else because his neighbors do;and that moral influence is not that powerful engine contended for. Letus examine this. Let me ask the man who could maintain this positionmost stiffly, what compensation he will accept to go to church someSunday and sit during the sermon with his wife's bonnet upon his head?Not a trifle, I'll venture. And why not? There would be nothingirreligious in it, nothing immoral, nothing uncomfortable--then why not?Is it not because there would be something egregiously unfashionable init? Then, it is the influence of fashion. And what is the influence offashion but the influence that other people's actions have on our ownactions--the strong inclination each of us feels to do as we see all ourneighbors do? Nor is the influence of fashion confined to any particularthing or class of things. It is just as strong on one subject asanother. Let us make it as unfashionable to withhold our names from thetemperance pledge as for husbands to wear their wives' bonnets tochurch, and instances will be just as rare in the one case as in theother. "

The people saw the moral point clearly. They felt the force of what theyoung orator had said. No one was willing to follow him. 

"Have you anything to say, Mr. Crawford?" said the moderator. 

Josiah merely shook his head. 

"He don't care to put on his wife's bonnet agin public opinion, " saidthe blacksmith. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

THE SCHOOL THAT MADE LINCOLN PRESIDENT. 

While teaching and preaching in Decatur, Jasper heard of the new villageof Salem, Illinois, on the Sangamon. He thought that the little townmight offer him a chance to exert a new influence, and he resolved tovisit it, and to preach and to teach there for a time should the peoplereceive him kindly. 

The village was a small one, consisting of a community store, aschool-house, a tavern, and a few houses; and Jasper knew of only onefriend there at the time, a certain Mr. Duncan, who lived some two milesfrom the main street and the store. 

One afternoon, after a long journey over prairie land, Jasper came toMrs. Duncan's door, and was met cordially by the good woman, and invitedby her to make his home there for a time. 

The family gathered around the story-telling missionary after supper, and listened to his tales of the Rhine, all of which had somesoul-lesson in his view, and enabled him to preach by parables. Nostories better served this peculiar mission than Baron Fouqué's, andthis night he related Thiodolf, the Icelander. 

There came a rap at the door. 

"Who can that be?" said Mrs. Duncan in alarm. 

She opened the door, and a tall, dark-faced young man stood before her. 

"Why, Abe, " said Mrs. Duncan, "what has brought you here at this latehour? I hope that nothing has happened!"

"That bill of yours. You paid me two dollars and six cents, did you not?It was not right. "

"Isn't it? Well, I paid you all that you asked me, like an honest woman, so I am not to blame for any mistake. How much more do you want? If itisn't too much I'll pay it, for I think that you mean well. "

"More! That isn't it, Mrs. Duncan; you paid me six cents too much--youoverpaid me. It was my fault. "

"Your fault!--and honest Abe Lincoln, you have walked two miles out ofyour way to pay me that six cents! Why didn't you wait until to-morrow?"

"I couldn't. "

"Why, what is going to happen?"

"I can't sleep with a thing like that on my conscience. Now I feel lightand free again. "

"Come in, if it is late. We've got company--a Tunker--teaches, preaches, and works. May be you have met him before. He's been traveling down inIndiana and middle Illinois. "

Abraham came in, and Jasper rose to receive him. 

"Lincoln, " said the wandering school-master, "it does my heart good tosee you. I see that you have grown in body and in soul. What brought youhere? I have been telling stories for hours. Sit down, and tell usabout what has happened to you since we met last. "

The tall young man sat down. 

"He's clark down to Orfutt's store now, " said Mrs. Duncan, "and his wordis as good as gold, and his weights are as true as the scales of theJudgment Day. Why, one day he made a wrong weight of half a pound, andas soon as he found it out he shut up the shop and went shiveringthrough the village with that half-pound of tea as though the powers ofthe air were after him. He's schooled his conscience so that he couldn'tbe dishonest if he were to try. I do believe a dishonorable act wouldwither him and drive him crazy. "

"Character, which is the habit of obedience to the universal law ofright, is the highest school of life, " said Jasper. "That is what I tryto teach everywhere. But Abraham has heard me say that before. Wherehave you been since I saw you last? Tell me, what has been your schoolof life?"

"I have been to New Orleans in a flat-boat. I went for Mr. Orfutt, whonow keeps the store in this place. When I came back he gave me a placein his store here. I have been here ever since. "

"What did you see in New Orleans?"

"Slavery--men sold in the market like cattle. Jasper, it made me long tohave power--to control men and congresses and armies. If I only had thepower, I would strike that institution hard. I said that to John Hanks, and he thought that slavery wasn't in any danger from anything that Iwould be likely to do. It don't look so, does it, elder? I have onevote, and I shall always cast that against wrong as long as I live. Thatis my right to do. 

"Elder, listen. I want to tell you what I saw there one day, in aslave-pen. I saw a handsome young girl, with white blood in her, broughtforward by a slave-driver and handled and struck with a whip like ahorse. I had heard of such things before, but it did not seem possiblethat they could be true. Then I saw the same girl sold at auction, andpurchased by a man who carried the face of a brute. When she saw who hadpurchased her, she wrung her hands and cried, but she was helpless andhopeless; and I turned my face toward the sky and vowed to give my soulagainst a system like that. I'm a Free-Soiler in my heart, and I havefaith that right is might, and that the right in this matter will oneday prevail. "

Jasper remained with Mrs. Duncan for some days, and then formed a smallschool in the neighborhood, on the road to the town of Springfield, Illinois. 

While teaching here he could not but notice the growth of Orfutt's clerkin the confidence of all the people. In all the games, he was chosenumpire or referee; in most cases of dispute he was consulted, and hisjudgment was followed. Long before he became a lawyer, people wereaccustomed to say, in a matter of casuistry:

"Take the case to Lincoln. He will give an opinion that will be fair. "

Amid this growing reputation for character, a test happened which showedhow far this moral education and discipline had gone. 

A certain Henry McHenry, a popular man, had planned a horse-race, andapplied to young Lincoln to go upon the racing stand as judge. 

"The people have confidence in you, " he said to Lincoln. 

"I must not, and I will not do it, " said Lincoln. "This custom of racingis wrong. "

The man showed him that he was under a certain obligation to act asjudge on this occasion. 

"I will do it, " he said; "but be it known to all that I will neverappear at a horse-race again; and were I to become a lawyer, I wouldnever accept a case into which I could not take an honest conscience, nomatter what the inducements might be. "

There was a school-master in New Salem who knew more than the honestclerk had been able to learn. This man, whose name was Graham, couldteach grammar. 

Abraham went to him one day, and said:

"I have a notion to study grammar. "

"If you ever expect to enter public life, you should do so, " said Mr. Graham. "Why not begin now and recite to me?"

"Where shall I secure a book?" asked the student of this hard college ofthe wood. 

"There is a man named Vaner, who lives six miles from here, who has agrammar that I think he will be willing to sell. "

"If it be possible, I will secure it, " said Lincoln. 

He made a long walk and purchased the book, and so made agrammar-school, a class of one, of his leisure moments in Orfutt'sstore. 

While he thus was studying grammar, the men whom he thirty or more yearsafterward made Cabinet ministers, generals, and diplomats were enjoyingthe easy experiences of schools, military academies, and colleges. Notone of them ever dreamed of such an experience of soul-building andmind-building as this; and some of them, had they met him then, wouldhave felt that they could not have invited him to their homes. Orfutt'sstore and that one grammar were not the elms of Yale, or the campus ofHarvard, or the great libraries or bowery streets of English Oxford orCambridge. Yet here grew and developed a soul which was to tower abovethe age, and hold hands with the master spirits not only of the time butthe ages. 

Years passed, and one day that sad-faced boy, who was always seeking tomake others cheerful amid the clouds of his own gloom, stood before agrim council of war. He had determined to call into the field of armsfive hundred thousand men. 

"If you do that thing, " said a leader of the council, "you can notexpect to be elected again President of the United States. "

The dark form rose to the height of a giant and poured forth his soul, and he said:

"It is not necessary for me to be re-elected President of the UnitedStates, but it is necessary for the soldiers at the front to bere-enforced by five hundred thousand men, and I shall call for them; andif I go down under the act, I will go down like the Cumberland, with mycolors flying. "

It required a high school of experience to train a soul to an utterancelike that; and that fateful declaration began in those moral syllablesthat defended the rights of the animals of the woods, that said "No" toa horse-race, that refused from the first to accept an unjust case atlaw, and that from the first declared that right is might. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

THOMAS LINCOLN MOVES. 

Jasper taught school for a time in Boonesville, Indiana, and preached inthe new settlements along the Wabash. While at Boonesville, he chancedto meet young Lincoln at the court house, under circumstances thatfilled his heart with pity. 

It was at a trial for murder that greatly excited the people. The lawyerfor the defense was John Breckinridge, a man of great reputation andability. 

Jasper saw young Lincoln among the people who had come to hear the greatlawyer's plea, and said to him:

"You have traveled a long distance to be here to-day. "

"Yes, " said the tall young man. "There is nothing that leads one to seekinformation of the most intelligent people like a debating society. We, who used to meet to discuss questions at Jones's store, have formed adebating society, and I want to learn all I can of law for the sake ofjustice, and I owed it to myself and the society not to let this greatoccasion pass. I have walked fifteen miles to be here to-day. Did youknow that father was thinking of moving to Illinois?"

"No. Will you go with him?"

"Yes, I shall go with him and see him well settled, and then I shallstrike out for myself in the world. Father hasn't the faculty thatmother has, you know. I can do some things better than he, and it is theduty of one member of the family to make up when he can for what anothermember lacks. We all have our own gifts, and should share them withothers. I can split rails faster than father can, and do better work athouse-building than he, and I am going with him and do for him the bestI can at the start. I shall seek first for a roof for him, and then aplace for myself. "

The great lawyer arrived. The doors of the court-house were open, andthe people filled the court-room. 

The plea was a masterly one, eloquent and dramatic, and it thrilled theyoung soul of Lincoln. Full of the subject, the young debater sought Mr. Breckinridge after the court adjourned, and extended his long arm andhand to him. 

The orator was a proud man of an aristocratic family, and thought it theproper thing to maintain his dignity on all occasions. He looked at theboy haughtily, and refused to take his hand. 

"I thank you, " said Lincoln. "I wish to express my gratitude. "

"Sir!"

With a contemptuous look Breckinridge passed by, and the slight filledthe heart of the young man with disappointment and mortification. Thetwo met again in Washington in 1862. The backwoods boy whose hand theorator had refused to take had become President of the United States. Heextended his hand, and it was accepted. 

"Sir, " said the President, "that plea of yours in Boonesville, Indiana, was one of the best that I ever heard. "

"In Boonesville, Indiana?"

How like a dream to the haughty lawyer the recollection must have been!Such things as this hurt Lincoln to the quick. He was so low-spirited attimes in his early manhood that he did not dare to carry with him apocket-knife, lest he should be overcome in some dark and evil moment toend his own life. There were times when his tendencies were so alarmingthat he had to be watched by his friends. But these dark periods werefollowed by a great flow of spirits and the buoyancy of hope. 

In the spring of 1830, Jasper and Waubeno came to Gentryville, and theremet James Gentry, the leading man of the place. 

"Are the Linkens still living in Spencer County?" he asked. 

"Yes, " said Mr. Gentry, "but it has been a hard winter here, and theyare about to move. The milk sickness has been here again and has carriedoff the cattle, and the people have become discouraged, and look uponthe place as unhealthy. I have bought Thomas Linken's property. The manwas here this morning. You will find him getting ready to go away fromIndiana for good and all. "

"Where is he going?" asked Jasper. 

"Off to Illinois. "

"So I thought, " said Jasper. "I must go to see him. How is that brightboy of his?"

"Abe?"

"Yes. I like that boy. I am drawn toward him. There is something abouthim that doesn't belong to many people--a spiritual graft that won'tbear any common fruit. I can see it with my spiritual eye, in the openvision, as it were. You don't understand those things--I see you don't. I must see him. There are not many like him in soul, if he is ungainlyin body. I believe that he is born to some higher destiny than othermen. I see that you do not understand me. Time will make it plain. "

"I'm a trader, and no prophet, and I don't know much about such mattersas these. But Abe Linken, he's grown up now, and _up_ it is, more thansix feet tall. He's a giant, a great, ungainly, awkward, clever, honestfellow, full of jokes and stories, though down at times, and he wouldn'tdo a wrong thing if it were for his right hand, and couldn't do anunkind one. He comes up to the store here often and tells stories, andsometimes stays until almost midnight, just as he used to do at Jones's. Everybody likes him here, and we shall all miss him when he goes away. "

Jasper and Waubeno left the little Indiana town, and went toward thecabin of the Lincolns. On the way Jasper turned aside to pay a shortvisit to Aunt Olive. 

The busy woman saw the preacher from her door, and came out to welcomehim. 

"I knew it was you, " was her salutation, "and I am right glad that youhave come. It has been distressin' times in these parts. Folks havedied, and cattle have died, and we're all poor enough now, ye maydepend. Where are ye goin'?"

"To see the Lincolns. "

"Sho'! goin' to see them again. Well, ye're none too soon. They'regettin' ready to move to Illinois. Thomas Linken's always movin. ' Movedfour times or more already, and I 'magine he'll just keep movin' till hemoves into his grave, and stops for good. He just lives up in the air, that man does. He always is imaginin' that it rains gold in the _next_State or county, but it never rains anythin' but rain where he is; andif it rained puddin' and sugar-cane, his dish would be bottom upward, sure. Elder, what does make ye take such an interest in that therefamily?"

"Mrs. Lincoln is a very good woman, an uncommon one; and Abraham--"

"Yes, elder, I knew ye were goin' to say somethin' good of Abraham. Yerheart is just set on that boy. I could see it when ye were here. Iremember all that ye prophesied about him. I ain't forgot it. Well, I ama very plain-spoken woman. Ye ain't much of a prophet, in my opinion. Hehain't got anywhere yet--now, has he? He's just a great, tall, black, jokin' boy; awful lazy, always readin' and talkin'; tellin' stories andmakin' people laugh, with his own mind as blue as my indigo-bag behindit all. That is just what he is, elder, and he'll never amount toanythin' in this world or any other. It's all just as I told ye it wouldbe. There, now, elder, that's as true as preachin', and the plain factsof the case. You wait and see. Time tells the truth. "

"His opportunity is yet to come; and when it does, he will have theheart and mind to fill it, " said Jasper. "A soul that is true to what isbest in life, becomes a power among men at last--it is spiritualgravitation. 'Tis current leads the river. You do not see. "

"No, I do not understand any such things as those; but when you've beenover to see the Linkens, you come back here, and I'll make ye some moredoughnuts. Come back, won't ye, and bring yer Indian boy? I'm a plainwoman, and live all alone, and I do love to hear ye talk. It gives mesomethin' to think about after ye're gone; and there ain't manypreachers that visit these parts. "

Jasper moved on under the great trees, and came to the simple Lincolncabin. 

"You have come back, elder, " said Thomas Lincoln. "Travelin' with yourIndian boy? I'm glad to see you, though we are very poor now. We'regoin' to move away--we and some other families. We're all off toIllinois. You've traveled over that kentry, preacher?"

"Yes, I've been there. "

"Well, what do you think of the kentry?"

"It is a wonderful country, Mr. Lincoln. It can produce grain enough tofeed the world. The earth grows gold. It will some day uplift cities--itwill be rich and happy. I like the prairie country well. "

"There! let me tell my wife. --Mother, here's the preacher. What do youthink he says about the prairie kentry? Says the earth grows gold. "

Poor Mrs. Lincoln looked sad and doubtful. She had heard such thingsbefore. But she welcomed Jasper heartily, and the three, with Waubeno, sat down to a meal of plain Indian pudding and milk, and talked of thesorrowful winter that had passed and the prospects of a better lifeamid the flowery prairies of Illinois. 

A little dog played around them while they were thus eating and talking. 

"It is not our dog, " said Mrs. Lincoln, "but he has taken a great likingto Abraham. The boy is away now, but he will be back by sundown. The dogbelongs to one of the family, and is always restless when Abraham hasgone away. Abraham wants to take him along with us, but it seems to methat we've got enough mouths to feed without him. We are all so poor!and I don't see what good he would do. But if Abraham says so, he willhave to go. "

"How is Abraham?" asked Jasper. 

"Oh, he is well, and as good to me as ever, and he studies hard, just ashe used to do. "

"And is as lazy as ever, " said Thomas Lincoln. "At the lazy folks' fairhe'd take the premium. "

"You shouldn't say that, " said Mrs. Lincoln. "Just think how good he wasto everybody during the sickness! He never thought of himself, but justworked night and day. His own mother died of the same sickness yearsago, and he's had a feelin' heart for the sufferers in this calamity. Itell you, elder, that he's good to everybody, and if he does not takehold to work in the way that father does, his head and heart are neveridle. I am sorry that he and father do not see more alike. The boy isgoin' to do well in the world. He begins right. "

When Abraham returned, there was one heart that was indeed glad to seehim. It was the little dog. The animal bounded heels over head as soonas he heard the boy's step, and almost leaped upon his tall shoulder ashe met him. 

"Humph!" said Mr. Lincoln. 

"Animals know who are good to them, " said Mrs. Lincoln. "Abraham, hereis the preacher. "

How tall, and dark, and droll, and yet how sad, the boy looked! He wasfull grown now, uncouth and ungainly. Who but Jasper would have seenbehind the features of that young, sinewy backwoodsman the soul of theleader and liberator?

It was a busy time with the Lincolns. Their goods were loaded upon arude and very heavy ox-wagon, and the oxen were given into the charge ofyoung Abraham to drive. 

The young man's voice might have been heard a mile as he swung his whipand called out to the oxen on starting. They passed by the grave underthe great trees where his poor mother's body lay and left it there, never to be visited again. There were some thirteen persons in theemigrant party. 

Emigrant wagons were passing toward Illinois, the "prairie country, " asit was called, over all the roads of Indiana. The "schooners, " as thesewagons were called, were everywhere to be seen on the great prairie sea. It was the time of the great emigration. Jasper had never dreamed of alife like this before. He looked into one prairie wagon, whose youngdriver had gone for water. He turned to Waubeno, and said:

"What do you think I saw?"

"Guns to destroy the Indians; trinkets and trifles to cheat us out ofour lands; whisky for tent-making. "

"No, Waubeno. There was an old grandmother there, a sick woman, and alittle coffin. This is a sad world sometimes. I pity everybody, and Iwould that all men were brothers. Go, look into the wagon, Waubeno. "

The Indian went, and soon returned. 

"Do you pity them, Waubeno?"

"Yes; but--"

"What, Waubeno?"

"I pity the Indian mother too. Your people drove her from hercorn-fields at Rock Island, and she left the graves of her childrenbehind her. "

There was a shadow of sadness in the hearts of the Lincoln family asthey turned away forever from the grave of Nancy Lincoln under thetrees. The poor woman who rested there in the spot soon to beobliterated, little thought on her dying bed that the little boy she wasleaving to poverty and adventure would be one day ranked with great menof the ages--with Servius Tullius, Pericles, Cincinnatus, Cromwell, Hampden, Washington, and Bolivar; that he would sit in the seat of along line of illustrious Presidents, call a million men to arms, or thathis rude family features would find a place among the grand statues ofevery liberated country on earth. 

Poor Nancy Hanks! Every one who knew her had felt the warmth of herkindness and marked her sadness. She was an intellectual woman, wasdeeply religious, and is believed to have been a very emotionalcharacter in the old Methodist camp-meetings. Her family, the Hankses, were among the best singers and loudest shouters at the camp-meetings, and she was in sympathy with them. 

Her heart lived on in Abraham. When she fell sick of the epidemic fever, Abraham, then a boy of ten years of age, waited upon her and nursedher. There was no doctor within twenty-five miles. She was so slender, and had been so ill-sustained that the fever-fires did their work in aweek. Finding her end near, she called Abraham and his little sister toher, and said:

"Be good to one another. "

Her face looked into Abraham's for the last time. 

"Live, " she said, "as I have taught you. Love your kindred, and worshipGod. "

She faded away, and her husband made her coffin with a whip-saw out ofgreen wood, and on a changing October day they laid her away under thetrees. They were leaving her grave now, the humblest of all places then, but a shrine to-day, for her son's character has glorified it. 

He must have always remembered the hymns that she used to sing. Some ofthem were curious compositions. In the better class of them were; "Am Ia soldier of the cross, " "Alas! and did my Saviour bleed, " and "Howtedious and tasteless the hour. " The camp-meeting melodies were simple, mere movements, like the negro songs. 

Abraham swung his whip lustily over the oxen's heads on that long springjourney, and directed the way. The wheels of the cart were greatrollers, and they creaked along. Here and there the roads were muddy, but the sky was blue above, and the buds were swelling, and the birdswere singing, and the little dog that belonged to the party kept closeto his heels, and the poor people journeyed on under the giant timber, and out of it at times along the ocean-like prairies of the Illinois. The world was before them--an expanse of forest and prairie that infifty years were to be changed by the axe and plowshare into prosperousfarms and homesteads, and settled by the restless nations of the world. 

The journey was long. There were spells of wintry weather, for thespring advanced by degrees even here. Streams overflowing their bankslay across their way, and these had to be forded. 

One morning the party came to a stream covered with thin ice. The oxenand horses hesitated, but were forced into the cold water. After adreary effort the hardy pilgrims passed over and mounted the westernbank. A sharp cry was heard on the opposite side. 

"You have left the dog, Abe, " said one. "Good riddance to him! I am gladthat we are quit of him at last. "

The dog's pitiable cry rang out on the crisp, cool air. He was barking_to_ Abraham, and the teamster's heart recognized that the animal's callwas to him. 

"See him run, and howl!" said another. "Whip up, Abe, and we will soonbe out of sight. "

Young Lincoln looked behind. The little animal would go down to thewater, and try to swim across, but the broken ice drove him back. Thenhe set up a cry, as much as to say:

"Abe, Abe, you will not leave me!"

"Drive on, " said one of the men. "He'll take care of himself. He'd nobusiness to lag behind. What do we want of the dog, anyway?"

The animal cried more and more piteously and lustily. 

"Whoa!" said Lincoln. 

"What are you going to do, Abe?"

"To do as I would be done by. I can't stand that. "

Lincoln plunged into the frozen water and waded across. The dog, overjoyed, leaped into his arms. Lincoln returned, having borne thelittle dog in his arms across the stream. He was cold and dripping, andwas censured for causing a needless delay. But he had a happy face andheart. 

Referring to this episode of the journey a long time afterward, Lincolnsaid to a friend:

"I could not endure the idea of abandoning even a dog. Pulling off shoesand socks, I waded across the stream, and triumphantly returned with theshivering animal under my arms. His frantic leaps of joy, and otherevidences of gratitude, repaid me for all the exposure I hadundergone. "

CHAPTER XVIII. 

MAIN-POGUE. 

Jasper taught for a time near New Salem, then made again his usualcircuit, after which he made his home for a time at Springfield, Illinois. When Jasper was returning from this last circuit of hisself-appointed mission the Black Hawk war had begun again. He came oneday, after long wanderings, to Bushville, in Schuyler County, Illinois, and found the place in a state of great excitement. The town was fillingwith armed men, and among them were many faces that he had seen at NewSalem, when Waubeno was his companion. 

He recognized a Mr. Green, whom he had known in New Salem, and said tohim:

"My friend, what does this armed gathering mean?"

"Black Hawk has crossed the Mississippi and is making war on thesettlers. The Governor has called for volunteers to defend the State. "

"What has led to this new outbreak?" said Jasper, although few knew thecause better than he. 

"Oh, sentiment--Indian sentiment. Black Hawk wants the old Indian townon the bluff again. He says it is sacred to his race; that hisancestors are buried there, and that there is no place like it on earth, or none that can take its place in his soul. He claims that the chiefshad been made drunk by the white men when they signed the treaty thatgave up the town; that he never sold his fathers' graves. His heart isfull of revenge, and he and all his tribe cling to that old Sac villagewith the grasp of death. "

"The trouble has been gathering long?"

"Yes. The settlers came up, under the treaty, to occupy the best landsaround the Sac town and compel the Indians to live west of theMississippi. Then the Indians and settlers began to dispute and quarrel. The settlers brought whisky, and Black Hawk demanded that it should notbe sold to his people. He violently entered a settler's claim, and stovein a barrel of whisky before the man's eyes. Then the Indians went overthe Mississippi sullenly, and left their cabins and corn-fields. Buthard weather came, and the women would come back to the old corn-fields, which they had planted the year before, to steal corn. They said thatthe corn was theirs, and that they were starving for their own food. Some of them were killed by the settlers. Black Hawk had become enragedagain. He has been trying to get the Indian tribes to unite and kill allof the whites. He has violated the old Indian treaty, and is murderingpeople on every hand, and the Governor has asked for volunteers toprotect the lives and property of the settlers. He had to do it. Eitherthe whites or the Indians must perish. The settlers came here under alegal treaty; they must be protected. It is no time for sentiment now. "

"Are nearly all of the men of New Salem here?" said Jasper. 

"Yes; Abraham Lincoln was the first to enlist, and he is our leader. Heought to be a good Indian fighter. His grandfather was killed by theIndians. "

"So I have heard. "

"But Lincoln himself is not a hard man; there's nothing revengeful abouthim. He would be more likely to do a good act to an Indian than aharmful one, if he could. His purpose is not to kill Indians, but toprotect the State and save the lives of peaceful, inoffensive people. "

The men from the several towns in the vicinity gathered in the openspace, and proceeded to elect their officers. 

The manner of the election was curious. There were the two candidatesfor captain of the company. They were Abraham Lincoln and a man by thename of Fitzpatrick. Each volunteer was asked to put himself in the lineby the side of the man of his choice. 

One by one they stepped forward and arranged themselves by the side ofLincoln, until Lincoln stood at the head of a larger part of the men. 

"Captain Lincoln!" said one, when he saw how the election was going. "Three cheers for Honest Abe! He is our man. "

There arose a great shout of "Captain Lincoln!"

Jasper marked the delight which the election had given his old New Salemfriends. Lincoln himself once said that that election was the proudestevent of his life. 

The New Salem Company went into camp at Beardstown, and was disbandedat Ottawa thirty days after, not having met the enemy. Lincoln, feelingthat he should be true to his country and the public safety at the hourof peril, enlisted again as a common private, served another thirtydays, and then, the war not being over, he enlisted again. The warterminated with the battle of Bad Axe and the capture of Black Hawk, whobecame a prisoner of state. 

One day, when the volunteers were greatly excited by the tales of Indianmurders, and were beset by foes lurking in ambush and pirogue, aremarkable scene occurred in Lincoln's camp. 

The men, who had been talking over a recent massacre by the Indians, were thirsting to avenge the barbarities, when suddenly the witheredform of an Indian appeared before them. 

They started, and an officer demanded:

"Who are you?"

"Main-Pogue. "

"How came you here?"

"I am a friend to the white man. I'm going to meet my son, a boy whom Ihave made my own. "

"You are a spy!"

"I am not a spy. I am Main-Pogue. I am hungry; I am old. I am no spy. Give an old Indian food, and I will serve you while you need. Then letme go and find my boy. "

"Food!" said one. "You are a spy, a plotter. There is murder in yourheart. We will make short work with you. That is what we are sent out todo. "

"I never did the white man harm, " said the old man, drawing his blanketaround him. 

"You shall pay for this, you old hypocrite!" said another officer. "Men, what shall we do with this spy?"

"Kill him!" said one. 

"Shoot him!" said another. 

"Torture him, and make him confess!" said a third. 

The old Indian stood bent and trembling. 

"I am a wandering beggar, looking for my boy, " said the Indian. "I neverdid the white man harm. Hear me. "

"You belong to Black Hawk's devils, " said an officer, "and you areplotting our death. You shall be shot. Seize him!"

The old Indian trembled as the men surrounded him bent on hisdestruction. 

There came toward the excited company a tall young officer. All eyeswere bent upon him. He peered into the face of the old Indian. The menrushed forward to obey the officer. 

"Halt!" said the tall captain. "This Indian must not be killed by us. "

That speaker was Abraham Lincoln. The men jeered at him, but he stoodbetween the Indian and them, like a form of iron. 

The Indian gave his protector a grateful look, and there dropped fromhis hand a passport, which in his confusion he had failed to give theofficer. It was a certificate saying that he had rendered good serviceto the Government, and it was signed by General Cass. 

"Why should you wish to save him?" asked a volunteer of young Lincoln. "Your grandfather was killed by an Indian. You are a coward!"

"I would do what is right by any man, " said Lincoln, fiercely. "Who saysI am a coward? I will meet him here in an open contest. Now, let the manwho says I am a coward meet me face to face and hand to hand. "

He stood over the cowering Indian, dark, self-confident and defiant. 

"I stand for justice. Let him come on. I stand alone for right. Let himcome on. --Main-Pogue, go!"

Out of the camp hobbled the Indian, with the long, strong arm of AbrahamLincoln lifted over him. The eyes of the men followed him in anger, disappointment, and scorn. Hard words passed from one to the other. Hefelt for the first time in his life that he stood in this matter utterlyalone. 

"Jeer on, " he said. "I would shield this Indian at the cost of my life. I would not be a true soldier if I failed in my duty to this old man. Inevery event of life it is right that makes might; and the rights of anIndian are as sacred as those of any other man, and I would defend them, at whatever cost, as those of a white man. --Main-Pogue, go hence! Herewill I stand between you and death. "

"Heaven bless you for protecting a poor old man! I have been a runnerfor the whites for many years, but I have never met a man like you. Iwill tell my boy of this. Your name is Lincoln?"

"Yes--Abraham Lincoln, though the name matters nothing. "

CHAPTER XIX. 

THE FOREST COLLEGE. 

"Well, how time flies, and the clock of the year does go round! Here'sthe elder again! It's a bright day that brings ye here, though Ishouldn't let ye sleep in the prophet's chamber, if I had one, 'cause yeain't any prophet at all. But ye are right welcome just the same. Whereis yer Indian boy?"

"He's gone to his own people, Aunt Olive. "

"To whet his tommyhawk, I make no doubt. Oh, elder, how ye have beendeceived in people! Ye believe that every one is as good as one can be, or can be grafted to bear sweet fruit, but, hoe-down-hoe, elder, 'taintso. Yer Aunt Indiana knows how desperately wicked is the human heart. Ifye don't do others, others will do ye, and this world is a warfare. Comein; I've got somethin' new to tell ye. It's about the Linkens' Abe. "

The Tunker entered the cheerful cabin in the sunny clearing of thetimber. 

"I've been savin' up the news to tell ye when ye came. Abe's been towar!"

"He has not been hurt, has he?"

"_Hurt!_ No, he hasn't been hurt. A great Indian fighter he proved! Themen were all laughin' about it. He'll live to fight another day, as thesayin' goes, and so will the enemy. Well, I always thought that therewas no need of killin' people. Let them alone, and they will all diethemselves; and as for the enemy, let them alone, and they will comehome waggin' their tails behind them, as the ditty says. Well, I musttell ye. Abe's been to war. He didn't see the enemy, nor fight, nornothin'. But a wild Indian came right into his camp, and the soldiersstarted up to kill him, and what do ye suppose Abe did?"

"I think he did what he thought to be right. "

"He let him go! There! what do you think of that? He just went tofightin' his own company to save the Indian. There's a warrior for ye!And that wasn't all. He talked in such a way that he frightened his ownmen, and he just gave the Indian some bread and cheese, and let him off. And the Indian went off blessin' him. Abe will never make a soldier orhandle armies much, after all yer prophecies. Such a soldier as thatought to be rewarded a pinfeather. "

"His conduct was after the Galilean teaching--was it not?--and producedthe result of making the Indian a friend. Was not that a good thing todo? Who was the Indian?"

"It was old Main-Pogue. He was uncle, or somethin', to that boy who usedto travel about with you, teachin' you the language--Waubeno; the oldinterpreter for General Cass's men. He'll go off and tell Waubeno. Iwonder if Main-Pogue knew who it was that saved him, and if he will tellWaubeno that?"

"Lincoln did a noble act. "

"Oh, elder, ye've got a good heart, but ye're weak in yer upper story. That ain't all I've got to tell ye. Abe has failed, after all yerprophecies, too. He and another man went to keepin' store up in NewSalem, and he let his partner cheat him, and they _failed_; and now he'sjust workin' to pay up his debts, and his partner's too. "

"And his partner's too? That shows that he saved an honest purpose outof losses. The greatest of all losses is a loss of integrity of purpose. I'm glad to hear that he has not lost that. "

"Oh, elder, ye've allus somethin' good to say of that boy. But I'm notagin him. He's Tom Linken's son, just as I told ye; and he'll never cometo anythin' good. He all runs to books and gabble, and goes 'roundrepeatin' poetry, which is only the lies of crazy folks. I haven't anyuse for poetry, except hymns. But he's had real trouble of late, besidesthese things, and I'm sorry for that. He's lost the girl what he wasgoin' to marry. She was a beautiful girl, and her death made him sodownhearted that they had to shut him up and watch him to keep him fromcommittin' suicide. They say that he has very melancholy spells. Hecan't help that, I don't suppose. His mother what sleeps over yonderunder the timber was melancholy. How are all the schools that you set togoin' on the Wabash?"

"They are all growing, good woman, and it fills my heart with delight tosee them grow. They are all growing like gardens for the good of thisgreat country. It does my heart good, and makes my soul happy, to startthese Christian schools. It's my mission. And I try to start themright--character first, true views of things next, and books last; butthe teaching of young children to think and act right spiritually is thehighest education of all. This is best done by telling stories, and so Itravel and travel telling stories to schools. You do not see my plan, but it is the true seed that I am planting, and it will bear fruit whenI am gone to a better world than this. "

"Oh, ye mean well, " said Aunt Olive, "but ye don't know more than somewhole families--pardon my plainness of speech. I don't doubt that ye aredoin' some good, after a fashion; but don't prophesy--yer prophecies inregard to Abe have failed already. He'll never command the Americanarmy, nor run the nation, nor keep store. Yer Aunt Indiana can readcharacter, and her prophecies have proved true so far. "

"Wait--time tells the whole truth; and worth is worth, and passes forthe true gold of life in time. "

"Ye don't think that there's any chance for him yet, do ye, elder, afterlettin' the Indian go, and failin', and havin' that melancholy spell?"

"Yes, I do. My spiritual sense tells me so. "

"Yer spiritual sense! Elder, ye ought to go to school. Ye are nothin'but a child yerself. And let me advise ye never to have anythin' more todo with that there Indian boy. Fishes don't swim on rocks, nor hawks goto live in a cage. An Indian is an Indian, and, mark my words, that boywill have yer scalp some day. He will, now--he will. I saw it in hiseye. "

The Tunker journeyed toward the new town of Springfield, Illinois, alongthe fragrant timber and over the blooming prairies. Everywhere were tobe seen the white prairie schooner and the little village of people thatfollowed it. 

Springfield was but a promising village at this time, in a very fertileland. Probably no one ever thought that it would become a capital cityof an empire of population, the hub of that great wheel of destinyrimmed by the Wabash, the Mississippi, Rock River, and the Lake; andstill less did any one ever dream that it would be the legislativeinfluence of that tall, laughing, sad-faced boy, Lincoln, who wouldproduce this result. 

Jasper preached at Springfield, and visited the log school-house, andtold stories to the little school. He then started to walk to New Salem, a distance of some eighteen or twenty miles. 

It was a pleasant country, and all things seemed teeming with life, forit was now the high tide of the year. The prairies were billows offlowers, and the timber was shady and cool, carpeted with mosses, tangled with vines, with its tops bright with sunshine and happy withthe songs of birds. 

About half-way between the two towns Jasper saw some lofty trees, giantsof the forest, that spread out their branches like roofs of some ancienttemple. There were birds' nests made of sticks in their tops, and a coolstream ran under them. He sought the place for rest. 

As he entered the great shadow, he saw a tall young man seated on a log, absorbed in reading a book. He approached him, and recognized him asyoung Lincoln. 

"I am glad to meet you here, in this beautiful place, " he said. 

"This is my college, " said Lincoln. 

"What are you studying, my friend?"

"Oh, I am trying my hand at law a little. Stuart, the Springfieldlawyer, lends me his law-books, and I walk over there from New Salem toget them, and when I get as far back as this I sit down on this log andstudy. I can study when I am walking. I once mastered forty pages ofBlackstone in a walk. But I love to stop and study on this log. It israther a long walk from New Salem to Springfield--almost twentymiles--and when I get as far back as this I feel tired. These trees areso grand that they look like a house of Nature, and I call them mycollege. I can't have the privileges of better-off young men, who can goto Philadelphia, New York, or Boston to study law, and so I do the bestI can here. I get discouraged sometimes, but I believe that right ismight, and do my best, and there is something that is leading me on. "

"I am glad to find you here, Abraham Lincoln. I love you in my heart, and I wish that I might help you in your studies. But I have neverstudied law. "

"But you do help me. "

"How?"

"By your faith in me. Elder, I have been having a hard row to hoe, andam an unlucky fellow. Have been keeping a grocery, and we havefailed--failed right at the beginning of life. It hurt my pride, but, elder, it has not hurt my honor. I've worked and paid up all my debts, and now I am going to pay _his_. I might make excuses for not paying hispart of the debts, but, elder, it would not leave my name clear. I mustlive conscience free. People call me a fool, but they trust me. Theyhave made me postmaster at New Salem, though that ain't much of anoffice. The mail comes only once a week, and I carry it in my hat. They'll need a new post-office by and by. "

"My friend, you are giving yourself a moral self-education that has moreworth than all the advantages of wealth or a famous name or the schoolsof Boston. The time will come when this growing people will need such aman as you to lead them, and you will lead them more grandly than otherswho have had an easier school. You have learned the first principles oftrue education--it is, the habit that can not do wrong without feelingthe flames of torment within. Every sacrifice that you have made to yourconscience has given you power. That power is a godlike thing. You willsee all one day, as I do now. "

"Elder, they call me a merry-maker, but I carry with me a sad heart. Iwish to tell you, for I feel that you are my true friend. I loved AnnRutledge. She was the daughter of James Rutledge, the founder of ourvillage and the owner of the mill on the Sangamon. She was a girl of aloving heart, gentle blood, and her face was lovely. You saw her at thetavern. I loved her--I loved her very name; and she is dead. It has allhappened since you were here, and I have wished to meet you again andtell you all. Such things as these make me melancholy. A great darknesscomes down upon me at times, and I am tempted to end all the brightdream that we call life. But I rise above the temptation. Elder, youdon't know how my heart has had to struggle. I sometimes think of mypoor mother's grave in the timber in Indiana, and I always think of_her_ grave--Ann Rutledge's--and then it comes over me like a cloud, that there is no place for me in the world. Do you want to know what Ido in those hours, elder? I repeat a long poem. I have said it over ahundred times. It was written by some poet who felt as I do. I wouldlike to repeat it to you, elder. I tell stories--they only make me moremelancholy--but this poem soothes my mind. It makes me feel that othermen have suffered before, and it makes me willing to suffer for others, and to accept my lot in life, whatever it may be. "

"I wish to hear the poem that has so moved you, " said the Tunker. 

Abraham Lincoln stood up and leaned against the trunk of one of thegiant trees. The sunlight was sifting through the great canopy ofleaves, boughs, and nests overhead, and afar gleamed the prairies likegardens of the sun. He lifted his long arm, and, with a sad face, said:

"Elder, listen. 

 "'Oh, why should the spirit of mortal be proud? Like a swift-fleeting meteor, a fast-flying cloud, A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave, He passeth from life to his rest in the grave. 

 "'The leaves of the oak and the willow shall fade, Be scattered around, and together be laid; And the young and the old, and the low and the high, Shall molder to dust, and together shall lie. 

 "'The infant a mother attended and loved, The mother that infant's affection who proved, The husband that mother and infant who blest-- Each, all, are away to their dwellings of rest. 

 "'[_The maid on whose cheek, on whose brow, in whose eye, _ _Shone beauty and pleasure, her triumphs are by;_ _And the memory of those who loved her and praised, _ _Are alike from the minds of the living erased_. ]

 "'The hand of the king that the scepter hath borne, The brow of the priest that the miter hath worn, The eye of the sage, and the heart of the brave, Are hidden and lost in the depths of the grave. 

 "'The peasant whose lot was to sow and to reap, The herdsman who climbed with his goats up the steep, The beggar who wandered in search of his bread, Have faded away like the grass that we tread. 

 "'[The saint who enjoyed the communion of Heaven, The sinner who dared to remain unforgiven, The wise and the foolish, the guilty and just, Have quietly mingled their bones in the dust. ]

 "'So the multitude goes, like the flower or the weed That withers away to let others succeed; So the multitude comes, even those we behold, To repeat every tale that has often been told. 

 "'For we are the same our fathers have been; We see the same sights our fathers have seen; We drink the same stream, we view the same sun, And run the same course our fathers have run. 

 "'The thoughts we are thinking our fathers would think; From the death we are shrinking our fathers would shrink; To the life we are clinging they also would cling; But it speeds from us all like a bird on the wing. 

 "'They loved, but the story we can not unfold; They scorned, but the heart of the haughty is cold; They grieved, but no wail from their slumber will come; They joyed, but the tongue of their gladness is dumb. 

 "'They died, ay, they died: we things that are now, That walk on the turf that lies over their brow, And make in their dwellings a transient abode, Meet the things that they met on their pilgrimage road. 

 "'Yea, hope and despondency, pleasure and pain, Are mingled together in sunshine and rain; And the smile and the tear, the song and the dirge, Still follow each other like surge upon surge. 

 "''Tis the wink of an eye, 'tis the draught of a breath, From the blossom of health to the paleness of death, From the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud-- Oh, why should the spirit of mortal be proud?'"

He stood there in moody silence when he had finished the recitation, which was (unknown to him) from the pen of a pastoral Scotch poet. TheTunker looked at him, and saw how deep were his feelings, and howearnest were his desires to know the true way of life and to do well hismission, and go on with the great multitude, whose procession comes uponthe earth and vanishes from the scenes. But he did not dream of thegreatness of the destiny for which that student was preparing in thehard college of the woods. 

"My education must always be defective, " said the young student. "I cannot read law in great law-offices, like other young men, but I can bejust--I can do right; and I would never undertake a case of law, for anymoney, that I did not think right and just. I would stand for what Ithought was right, as I did by the old Indian, and I think that thepeople in time would learn to trust me. "

"Abraham Lincoln, to school one's conscience to the habit of right, sothat it can not do wrong, is the first and the highest education. It iswhat one is that makes him a knight, and that is the only trueknighthood. The highest education is that of the soul. Did you know thatthe Indian whom you saved was Main-Pogue?"

"Yes. "

"And that Main-Pogue is the uncle and foster-father of my old guide, Waubeno?"

"No. Waubeno was the boy who came with you to the Wabash?"

"Waubeno's father was killed by the white people. He was condemned todeath. He asked to go home to see his family once more, and returnedupon his honor to die. That old story is true. Does it seem possiblethat an English soldier could ever take the life of an Indian likethat?"

"No, it does not. Will Main-Pogue tell Waubeno that it was I who savedhim?"

"Does Main-Pogue know you by name? I hope he does. "

"He may have forgotten. I would like for him to remember it, because theIndian boy liked me, and an Indian killed my grandfather. I liked thatIndian boy, and I would do justice, if I could, by all men, and anyman. "

"Lincoln, I came to love and respect that Indian boy. There was a nativenobility in him. But my efforts to make him a Christian failed, for hecarried revenge in his heart. I wish that he could know that it was youwho did that deed; your character might be an influence that wouldstrike an unknown cord in the boy's heart, for Waubeno has a nobleheart--Waubeno is noble. I wish he knew who it was that sparedMain-Pogue. Acts teach where words fail, and the true teacher is notlips, but life. The boy once said to me that he would cease to seek toavenge his father's death if he could find a single white man who woulddefend an Indian to his own harm, because it was right. Now, Lincoln, you have done just the act that would change his heart. But he has gonewith the winds. How will he ever hear of it? How will he ever know it?

"When Main-Pogue meets him, if he ever does again, he may tell him all. But does Main-Pogue understand the relations that exist between you andme, and us and that boy? O Waubeno, Waubeno, I would that you might hearof this!"

He thought, and added: "He _will_ hear of it, somehow, in some way. Providence makes golden keys of deeds like yours. They unlock the doorsof mystery. Let me see, what was it Waubeno said--his exact words?_'When I find a single white man who defends an Indian to his own hurt, because it is right, I will promise. '_ Lincoln, he said that. You arethat man. Lincoln, may God bless you, and call you into his service whenhe has need of a man!"

CHAPTER XX. 

MAKING LINCOLN A "SON OF MALTA. "

When Jasper, some years later, again met Aunt Eastman, she had a yetmore curious story to tell about Abraham. 

It was spring, and the cherry-trees were in bloom and musical with bees. In the yard a single apple-tree was red with blooms, which made fragrantthe air. 

"And here comes Johnnie Apple-seed!" said Aunt Olive. "Heaven bless ye!I call ye Johnnie Apple-seed because ye remind me so much of that goodman. He was a good man, if he had lost his wits; and ye mean well, justas he did. Smell the apple-blossoms! I don't know but it was _him_ thatplanted that there tree. "

To explain Aunt Olive's remarks, we should say that there once wanderedalong the banks of the Ohio, a poor wayfaring man who had a singularimpression of duty. He felt it to be his calling in life to plantapple-seeds. He would go to a farmer's house, ask for work, and remainat the place a few days or weeks. After he had gone, apple-seeds wouldbe found sprouting about the farm. His journeys were the beginnings ofmany orchards in the Middle, West, and prairie States. 

"I love to smell apple-blossoms, " said Aunt Olive. "It reminds me of oldNew England. I can almost hear the bells ring on the old New Englandhills when I smell apple-blooms. They say that Johnnie Apple-seed isdead, and that they filled his grave with apple-blooms. I don't know asit is so, but it ought to be. I sometimes wish that I was a poet, because a poet fixes things as they ought to be--makes the world allover right. But, la! Abe Linken was a poet. _Have_ ye heard the news?"

"No. What?--nothing bad, I hope?"

"_He's_ hung out his shingle. "

"Where?"

"In Springfield. "

"In Springfield?"

"Yes, elder, I've seen it. I have traveled a good deal since I sawyou--'round to camp-meetin', and fairs, rightin' things, and doin' allthe good I can. I've seen it. And, elder, they've made a mock Mason onhim. "

In the pioneer days of Illinois the making of mock Masons, or _pseudo_Sons of Malta, was a popular form of frolic, now almost forgotten. Youngpeople formed mock lodges or secret societies, for the purpose ofinitiating new members by a series of tricks, which became the jokes ofthe community. 

"Yes, " said Aunt Olive, "and what do ye think they did? Well, in themsocieties they first test the courage of those who want to be newmembers. There's Judge Ball, now; when they tested his courage, what doyou think? They blindfolded him, and turned up his blue jean trousersabout the ankles, and said, 'Now let out the snakes!' and they took anelder-bush squirt-gun and squirted water over his feet; and the waterwas cold, and he thought it was snakes, and he jumped clear up to thecross-beams on the chamber floor, and screamed and screamed, and theywouldn't have him. "

Jasper had never heard of these rude methods of making jokes and oddstories in the backwoods. 

"What did they do to test Abraham's courage?" he asked. 

"I don't know--blindfolded him and dressed him up like a donkey, and ledhim up to a lookin'-glass, and made him promise that he would never tellwhat he saw, and then _on_bandaged his eyes--or something of that kind. His courage stood the test. Of course it did; no matter what they mighthave done, no one could frighten Abe. But he got the best o' them. "

"How?"

"He took up a collection for a poor woman that he had met on the way, and proposed to change the society into a committee for the relief ofthe poor and sufferin'. "

"That shows his heart again. "

"I knew that you would say that, elder. "

"Everything that I hear of Lincoln shows how that his character grows. It is my daily prayer that Waubeno may hear of how he saved Main-Pogue. It would change the heart of Waubeno. He will know of it some day, andthen he will fulfill his promise to me. "

The Tunker sat down in the door under the blooming cherry-trees, andAunt Olive brought a tray of food, and they ate their supper there. 

[Illustration: SARAH BUSH LINCOLN, ABRAHAM LINCOLN'S STEP-MOTHER. 

_After photograph taken in 1865. _]

Afar stretched the prairies. The larks quivered in the air, happy in theMay-time, and gurgling with song. In the sunny outlines were seen atrain of prairie schooners winding over the plain. 

These were rude times, when all things were new. Men were purchasing thefuture by hardship and toil. But the two religious enthusiasts presenteda happy picture as they sat under the cherry-trees and talked ofcamp-meetings, and the inner light, and all they had experienced, andate their frugal meal. Odd though their views and beliefs and habits mayseem in some respects, each had a definite purpose of good; each livedin the horizon of bright prospects here and hereafter, and each washappy. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

PRAIRIE ISLAND. 

The beautiful country between Lake Michigan, or old Fort Dearborn, andthe Mississippi, or Rock Island, was once a broad prairie, a sea offlowers, birds, and bright insects. The buffaloes roamed over it ingreat herds, and the buffalo-birds followed them. The sun rose over itas over a sea, and the arched aurora rose red above it like some fargate of a land of fire. Here the Sacs and Foxes roamed free; the Iowasand the tribes of the North. It was one vast sunland, a breeze-sweptbrightness, almost without a dot or shadow. 

Almost, but not quite. Here and there, like islands in a summer sea, rose dark groves of oak and vines. These spots of refreshment werecalled prairie islands, and in one of these islands, now gone, a pioneercolony made their homes, and built a meeting-house, which was also to beused as a school-house. Six or more of these families were fromGermantown, Pennsylvania, and were Tunkers. The other families were fromthe New England States. 

To this nameless village, long ago swept away by the prairie fires, wentJasper the Parable, with his cobbling-tools, his stories, and his gospelof universal love and good-will. The Tunkers welcomed him with delight, and the emigrants from New England looked upon him kindly as a good andwell-meaning man. There were some fifteen or twenty children in thesettlement, and here the peaceful disciple of Pestalozzi, and friend ofFroebel, applied for a place to teach, and the school was by unanimousconsent assigned to him. 

So began the school at Prairie Island--a school where the firstprinciples of education were perceived and taught, and that mightfurnish a model for many an ambitious institution of to-day. 

"It is life that teaches, " the Parable used to say, quoting Pestalozzi. "The first thing to do is to form the habits that lead to character; thenext thing is to stamp the young mind with right views of life; thencomes book-learning--words, figures, and maps--but stories that educatemorally are the primer of life. Christ taught spiritual truths byparables. I teach formative ideas by parables. The teacher should be astory-teller. In my own country all children go through fairy-land. Herethey teach the young figures first, as though all of life was amoney-market. It is all unnatural and wrong. I must teach and preach bystories. "

The school-house was a simple building of logs and prairie grass, withoiled paper for windows, and a door that opened out and afforded a viewof the vast prairie-sea to the west. Jasper taught here five days in aweek, and sang, prayed, and exhorted on Sunday afternoons, and ledsocial meetings on Sunday evenings. The little community were united, peaceful, and happy. They were industrious, self-respecting people, whowere governed by their moral sense, and their governing principleseemed to be the faith that, if a person desired and sought to followthe divine will, he would have a revelation of spiritual light, whichwould be like the opening of the gates of heaven to him. Nearly everyman and woman had some special experience of the soul to tell; and ifever there was a community of simple faith and brotherhood, it was here. 

Jasper's school began in the summer, when the sun was high, the coolshadows of the oaks grateful, and the bluebells filled the tall, wavygrasses, and the prairie plover swam in the air. 

Jasper's first teaching was by the telling of stories that leave in theyoung mind right ideas and impressions. 

"My children, listen, " said the gracious old man, as he sat down to hisrude desk, "and let me tell you some stories like those Pestalozzi usedto tell. Still, now!"

He lifted his finger and his eyebrows, and sat a little while insilence. 

"Hark!" he said. "Hear the birds sing in the trees! Nature is teachingus. When Nature is teaching I listen. Nature is a greater teacher thanI, or any man. "

The little school sat in silence and listened. They had never heard thebirds sing in that way before. Presently there was a hush in the trees. 

"Now I will begin, " said he. 

_PESTALOZZI'S STORIES. _

"Did you ever see a mushroom? Yes, there are mushrooms under the cooltrees. Once, in the days when the plants and flowers and trees alltalked--they talk now, but we have ceased to hear them, a littlemushroom bowed in the winds, and said to the grass:

"'See how I grow! I came up in a single night. I am smart. '

"'Yes, ' said the grass, waving gently. 

"'But you, ' said the smart little mushroom, 'it takes you a whole yearto grow. '

"The grass was sorry that it took so long for it to grow, and hung itshead, and thought, and thought. 

"'But, ' said the grass, 'you spring up in the night, and in a day or twoyou are gone. It takes me a year to grow, but I outlive a hundred cropsof mushrooms. I will have patience and be content. Worth is of slowgrowth. '

"In a week the boastful little mushroom was gone, but the grass bloomedand bore seed, and left a lovely memory behind it. Hark! hear the breezein the trees! Nature is teaching now. Listen!

"Now I will tell you another little story, such as I used to hearPestalozzi relate. I am going to tell this story to myself, but you maylisten. I have told a story to you, but now I will talk to myself. 

"There once was a king, who had been riding in the sun, and he saw afara lime-tree, full of cool, green leaves. Oh, how refreshing it looked tohim! So he rode up to the lime-tree, and rested in the shadow. 

"The leaves all clung to the branches, and the winds whispered amongthem, but did not blow them away. 

"Then the king loved the tree, and he said:

"'O tree, would that my people clung to me as thy leaves do to thybranches!'

"The tree was pleased, and spoke:

"'Would you learn from me wisdom to govern thy people?'

"'Yes, O lime-tree! Speak on. '

"'Would you know, then, what makes my leaves so cling to my branches?'

"'Yes, O Lime Tree! Speak on. '

"'I carry to them the sap that nourishes them. 'Tis he that giveshimself to others that lives in others, and is safe and happy himself. Do that, and thy kingdom shall be a lime-tree. '"

A child brought into the room a bunch of harebells and laid them uponthe teacher's desk. 

"Look!" said Jasper, "Nature is teaching. Let us be quiet a little andhear what she has to say. The harebells bring us good-will from the sunand skies. There is goodness everywhere, and for all. Let us begrateful. 

"Now I will give you another little Pestalozzian story, told in my ownway, and you may tell it to your fathers and mothers and neighbors whenyou go home. 

"There was once a man who had two little ponies. They were prettycreatures, and just alike. He sold one of them to a hard-hearted man, who kicked him and beat him; and the pony said:

"'The man is my enemy. I will be his, and become a cunning and vicioushorse. '

"So the pony became cunning and vicious, and threw his rider andcrippled him, and grew spavined and old, and every one was glad when hewas dead. 

"The man sold the other pony to a noble-hearted man, who treated himkindly and well. Then the pony said:

"'I am proud of my master. I will become a good horse, and my master'swill shall be my own. '

"Like the master became the horse. He became strong and beautiful. Theychose him for the battle, and he went through the wars, and the masterslept by his side. He bore his master at last in a triumphal procession, and all the people were sorry when he came to die. Our minds here areone of the little colts. 

"So we will all work together. The lesson is ended. You have all theimpressions that you can bear for one day. Now we will go out and play. "

But the play-ground was made a field of teaching. 

"There are plays that form right ideas, " said Jasper, "and plays thatlead to an evil character. I teach no plays that lead to cruelty ordeception. I would no sooner withhold amusements from my little onesthan water, but my amusements, like the water, must be healthy andgood. "

There was one odd play that greatly delighted all the children of thePrairie Island school. The idea of it was evolved in the form of apopular song many years afterward. In it the children are supposed toask an old German musician how many instruments of music he could play, and he acts out in pantomime all of the instruments he could blow orhandle. We think it was this merriment that became known in America asthe song of Johnnie Schmoker in the minstrel days. 

Not the children only, but the parents also all delighted to see Jasperpretend to play all the instruments of the German band. Often atsunset, when the settlers came in from the corn-fields and rested underthe great trees, Jasper would delight the islanders, as they calledthemselves, with this odd play. 

"The purpose of education, " Jasper used to repeat over and over to hisfriends in this sunny island of the prairie sea, "is not to teach theyoung how to make money or get wealth by a cunning brain, but how tolive for the soul. The soul's best interests are in life's highestinterest, and there is no poverty in the world that is like spiritualpoverty. In the periods of poetry a nation is great; and when poetryfails, the birds cease to sing and the flowers to bloom, and divinitiesgo away, and the heart turns to stone. "

There was one story that he often repeated to his little school. Thepupils liked it because there was action in it, as in the play-story ofthe German musician. He called it "CHINK, CHINK, CHINK"--though webelieve a somewhat similar story is told in Germany under the name of"The Stone-cold Heart. "

He would clasp his hands together and strike them upon his knee, makinga sound like the jingling of silver coin. Any one can produce thiscurious sound by the same action. 

"Chink, chink, chink, " he would say. "Do you hear it? Chink, chink, chink. Listen, as I strike my hands on my knees. Money? Now I will openmy hands. There is no money in them; it was fool's gold, all. 

"There lived in a great German forest a poor woodman. He was a giant, but he had a great heart and a willing arm, and he worked contentedlyfor many years. 

"One day he chanced to go with some foresters into the city. It was afestival day. He heard the jingle of money, just like that" (strikinghis clasped hands on his knee). "He saw what money would buy. He thoughtit would buy happiness. He did not know that it was fool's gold, all. 

"He went back to his little hut in the forest feeling very unhappy. Hiswife kissed him on his return, and his children gathered around him tohear him tell the adventures of the day, but his downcast spirit madethem all sad. 

"'What has happened?' asked his wife. 'You always seemed happy untilto-night. '

"'And I was always happy until to-day. But I have seen the world to-day, and now I want that which will buy everything. '

"'And what is that?' asked his wife. 

"'Listen! It sounds like that, ' and he struck his clasped hands on hisknee--chink, chink, chink. 'If I had that, I would bring to you and thelittle ones the fine things I saw in the city, and you would be happy. You are contented now because you do not know. '

"'But I would rather that you would bring to me a happy face and lovingheart, ' said his wife. 'You know that the Book says that "a man's lifeconsisteth not in the abundance of the things which he possesseth. " Lovemakes happiness, and gold is in the heart. '

"The forester continued to be sad. He would sit outside of his door atearly evening and pound his hands upon his knees so--chink, chink, chink--and think of the gay city. Then he would strike his hands on hisknees again. He did not know that it was fool's gold, all. 

"He grew more and more discontented with his simple lot. One day he wentout into the forest alone to cut wood. When he had become tired he satdown by a running stream to hear the birds sing and to strike his handson his knees. 

"A shadow came gliding across the mosses of the stream. It was like theform of a dark man. Slowly it came on, and as it did so the flowers onthe banks of the stream withered. The woodman looked up, and a blackgiant stood before him. 

"'You look unhappy to-day, ' said the black giant. 'You did not use tolook that way. What is wanting?'

"The woodman looked down, clasped his hands, and struck them on hisknees--chink, chink, chink. 

"'Ah, I see--money! The world all wants money. Selfishness could notthrive without money. I will give you all the money that you want, onone condition. '

"'Name it. '

"'That you will exchange your heart. '

"'What will you give me for my heart?'

"'Your heart is a human heart, a very simple human heart. I will put inits place a heart of stone, and then all your wishes shall turn to gold. Whatever you wish you shall have. '

"'Shall I be happy?'

"'Happy! Ha, ha, ha! are not people happy who have their wishes?'

"'Some are, and some are happy who give up their wishes and wills anddesires. "

"The woodman leaned his face upon his hands for a while, seemed ingreat doubt and distress. He thought of his wife, who used to say thatcontentment was happiness, and that one could be rich by having a fewwants. Then he thought of the city. The vision rose before him like aVanity Fair. He clasped his hands again, and struck them on hisknees--chink, chink, chink--and said, 'I will do it. '

"Suddenly he felt a heart within him as cold as stone. He looked up tothe giant, and saw that he held his own good, true heart in his hands. 

"'I will put it away in a glass jar in my house, ' he said, 'where I keepthe hearts of the rich. Now, listen. You have only to strike your lockedhands on your knees three times--chink, chink, chink--whenever you wantfor gold, and wish, and you will find your pockets full of money. '

"The woodman struck his palms on his knees and wished, then felt in hispockets. Sure enough, his pockets were full of gold. 

"He thought of his wife, but his thought was a cold one; he did not loveher any more. He thought of his little ones, but his thoughts werefrozen; he did not care to meet them any more. He thought of hisparents, but he only wished to meet them to excite their envy. Thestream no longer charmed him, nor the flowers, nor the birds, noranything. 

"'I will dissemble, ' he said. He hurried home. His wife met him at thedoor. He kissed her. She started back, and said:

"'Your lips are cold as death! What has happened?'

"His children kissed him, but they said:

"'Father, your cheeks are cold. '

"He tried to pray at the meal, but his sense of God was gone; he did notlove God, or his wife, or his children, or anything any more--he had astone-cold heart. 

"After the evening meal he told his wife the events of the day. Shelistened with horror. 

"'In parting with your heart you have parted with everything that makeslife worth having, ' said she. But he answered:

"'I do not care. I do not care for anything but gold now. I have astone-cold heart. '

"'But will gold make you happy?' she asked. 

"He started. He went forth to work the next day, but he was not happy. So day by day passed. His gold did not make his family happy, or hisfriends, or any one, but he would not have cared for all these, for hehad a stone-cold heart. Had it made him happy? He saw the world allhappy around him, and heavier and heavier grew his heart, and at last hecould endure it no longer. 

"One day he was sitting in the same place in the woods as before, whenhe saw the shadowy figure stealing along the mosses of the stream again. He looked up and beheld the giant, and exclaimed:

"'Give me back my heart!'"

"Have you learned the lesson?"

CHAPTER XXII. 

THE INDIAN PLOT. 

One sultry August night a party of Sac and Fox Indians were encamped ina grove of oaks opposite Rock Island, on the western side of theMississippi. Among them were Main-Pogue and Waubeno. 

The encampment commanded a view of the burial hills and bluffs of theabandoned Sac village. 

As the shadow of night stole over the warm, glimmering twilight, and thestars came out, the lights in the settlers' cabins began to shine; andas the Indians saw them one by one, their old resentment against thesettlers rose and bitter words passed, and an old warrior stood up torehearse his memories of the injustice that his race had suffered in theold treaties and the late war. 

"Look, " he said, "at the eyes of the cabins that gleam from yondershore. The waters roll dark under them, but the lights of the canoes nomore haunt the rapids, and the women and children may no more sit downby the graves of the braves of old. Our lights have gone out; theirlights shine. Their lights shine on the bluffs, and they twinkle likefireflies along the prairies, and climb the cliffs in what was once theRed Man's Paradise. Like the fireflies to the night the white settlerscame. 

"Rise up and look down into the water. There--where the stream runsdark--they shot our starving women there, for crossing the river toharvest their own corn. 

"Look again--there where the first star shines. She, the wife of Wabono, floated there dead, with the babe on her breast. Here is the son ofWabono. 

"Son of Wabono, you ride the pony like the winds. What are you going todo to avenge your mother? You have nourished the babe; you are good andbrave; but the moons rise and fall, and the lights grow many on theprairie, and the smoke-wreaths many along the shore. Speak, son ofWabono. "

A tall boy arose, dressed in yellow skins and painted and plumed. 

"Father, it is long since the rain fell. "

"Long. "

"And the prairies are yellow. "

"Yellow. "

"And they are food for fire. "

"Food for fire. "

"I would touch them with fire--in the east, in the west, in the north, and in the south. The lights will go out in the cabins, and the whitewoman will wander homeless, and the white man will hunger for corn. Theyshot our people for harvesting our corn. I would give their corn-fieldsto the flames, and their families to the famine in the moons ofstorms. "

"Waubeno, you have heard Wabono. What would _you_ do?"

"I would punish those only who have done wrong. The white teacher taughtso, and the white teacher was right. "

"Waubeno, you speak like a woman. "

"Those people should not suffer for what others have done. You shouldnot be made to bear the punishments of others. "

"Would you not fire the prairies?"

"No. I may have friends there. The Tunker may be there. He who sparedMain-Pogue may be there. Would I burn their cabins? No!"

"Waubeno, who was your father?"

"I am the son of Alknomook. "

"He died. "

"Yes, father. "

"There was neither pity nor mercy in the white man's heart for him. Youmade your vow to him. What was that vow, Waubeno?"

"To avenge his enemies--not our friends. "

"Brothers, listen. The white men grow many, and we are few. In war weare helpless--only one weapon remains to us now. It is thethunderbolt--it is fire. 

"Warriors, listen. The moon grows. Who of you will cross the river andride once more into the Red Man's Paradise, and give the prairies to theflames? The torch is all that is left us now. "

Every Indian raised his arm except Main-Pogue and Waubeno, and signifiedhis desire to unite in the plan for the desolation of the prairies. 

"Main-Pogue, will you carry your torch in the night of fire?"

"I have been saved by the hand of a white man, and I will not turn myhand against the white man. I could not do it if I were young. But I amold--my people are gone. Leave me to fall like the leaf. "

"Son of Alknomook, what will you do?"

"I will follow your counsel for my father's sake, but I will spare myfriends for the sake of the arm that was stretched out over the head ofMain-Pogue. "

"Then you will go. "

"I would that I were dead. I would that I could live as the whiteteacher taught me--in peace with every one. I would that I had not thisblood of fire, and this memory of darkness, and this vow upon my head. The white teacher taught me that all people were brothers. My brainburns--"

Late in the evening Waubeno went to Main-Pogue and sat down by his sideunder the trees. The river lay before them with its green islands andrapid currents, serene and beautiful. The lights had gone out on theother shore, and the world seemed strangely voiceless and still. 

"How did _he_ look, Waubeno?"

"Who look?"

"That man who saved you--stretched his arm over you. "

"His arm was long. His face was as sad as an Indian's; and he was tall. He was a head taller than other men; he rose over them like an oak overthe trees. The men laughed at him; then his face looked as though it wasset against the people--he looked like a chief--and the men cowered, and jeered, and cowered. I can see how he looked, but I can not tellit--I can see it in my mind. I told him that I would tell Waubeno, andhe seemed to know your name. Did you never meet such a man?"

"Yes, in the Indiana country. He was journeyed from the Wabash. "

The Indians, after the council we have described, began to cross theMississippi by night, and to make stealthy journeys into the Rock Rivercountry, once known as the Red Man's Paradise. Rock River is a beautifulstream of the prairies. It comes dashing out of a bed of rocks, and runsa distance of some two hundred miles to the Mississippi. Here onceroamed the deer and came the wild cattle in herds. Here rose greatcliffs, like ruins of castles, which were then, as now, cities of theswallows. Eagles built their nests upon them, and wheeled from over theflowers of the prairies. The banks in summer were lined with wildstrawberries and wild sunflowers. Here and there were natural mounds andpark-like woods, and oaks whose arms were tangled with grapevines. 

Into this country ran Black Hawk's trail, and not far from this trailwas Prairie Island, with its happy settlers and new school. The Germanschool-master might well love the place. Margaret Fuller (CountessOssoli) came to the region in 1843, and caught its atmosphere andbreathed it forth in her Summer in the Lakes. Here, in this territory ofthe Red Man's Paradise, "to me enchanting beyond any I have ever seen, "where "you have only to turn up the sod to find arrow-heads, " shevisited the bluff of the Eagles' Nest on the morning of the Fourth ofJuly, and there wrote "Ganymede to his Eagle, " one of her grandestpoems. 

"How happy, " says this gifted soul, "the Indians must have been here! Ido believe Rome and Florence are suburbs compared to this capital ofNature's art. "

Black Hawk's trail ran from this region of perfect beauty to theMississippi; and long after the Sacs and Foxes were compelled to livebeyond the Mississippi, the remnants of the tribes loved to return andvisit the scenes of the land of their fathers. 

The Indians who had plotted the firing of the prairies made two stealthyjourneys along the Rock River and over the old trail under the Augustmoon. In one of these they rode round Prairie Island, and encamped onenight upon the bluff of the Eagles' Nest, under the moon and stars. Waubeno went with them, and gazed with sad eyes upon the scenes that hadpassed forever from the control of his people. 

He saw the new cabins and corn-fields, the prairie wagons and theemigrants. One evening he passed Prairie Island, and saw the lightsglimmering among the trees, and heard the singing of a hymn in theschool-house, where the people had met to worship. He wished that hisown people might be taught these better ways of living. He reined up hispony and listened to the singing. He wished that he might join thelittle company, though he did not know that Jasper was there. 

He rode away amid the stacks and corn-fields. He saw that the fieldswere dry as powder. 

Out on the prairie he turned and looked back on the lights of thesettlement as they glimmered among the trees. Could he apply the torchto the dry sea of grasses around the peaceful homes?

Once, revenge would have made it a delight to his eyes to see such asettlement in flames. But Jasper's teaching had created a new view oflife and a new conscience. He felt what the Tunker taught was true, andthat the young soldier who had spared Main-Pogue had done a nobler deedthan any act of revenge. What was that young man's motive? He ponderedover these things, and gave his pony a loose rein, and rode on under thecool cover of the night under the moon and stars. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

FOR LINCOLN'S SAKE. 

"The prairie is on fire!" So cried a horseman, as he rode by the school. 

It was a calm, glimmering September day. Prairie Island rose with redand yellow and crisping leaves, like a royal tent amid a dead sea offlowers. The prairie grass was dry, though still mingled with a greenundergrowth. Prairie chickens were everywhere, quails, and plover. 

At midday a billowy cloud of smoke began to wall the eastern horizon, and it slowly rolled forward, driven by the current of the air. 

"O-o-oh!" said one of the scholars! "Look! look! What the man said istrue--the prairie _is_ on fire!"

Jasper went to the door. The blue sky had turned to an ashy hue, and thesun was a dull red. An unnatural wind had arisen like a draft of air. 

"Teacher, can we go out and look?" asked several voices. 

"Yes, " said Jasper, "the school may take a recess. "

The pupils went to the verge of the trees, and watched the billowycolumns of smoke in the distance. 

The world seemed to change. The air filled with flocks of frightenedbirds. The sky became veiled, and the sun was as red as blood. 

Since the great snow of 1830 but few buffaloes had been seen on theprairie. But a dark cloud of flesh came bounding over the prairie grass, bellowing, with low heads and erect tails. The children thought thatthey were cattle at first, but they were buffaloes. They rushed towardthe trees of Prairie Island, turned, and looked behind. Then the leaderpawed the earth, and the herd rushed on toward the north. 

The fire spread in a semicircle, and seemed to create a wind whichimpelled it on with resistless fury. 

"O-o-oh, look! look!" exclaimed another scholar. "See the horses and thecattle--droves of them! Look at the sky--see the birds!"

There were droves of cattle hurrying in every direction. The men in thefields near Prairie Island came hurrying home. 

"The prairie is on fire!" said each one, not knowing what else to say. 

"Will it reach us?" asked Jasper of the harvesters. 

"What is to hinder it? The wind is driving it this way. It has formed awall of fire that almost surrounds us. "

"What can we do?" asked Jasper. The harvesters considered. 

"We are safer here than elsewhere, let what will come, " said one. "Ifthe fire sweeps the prairie, it would overtake us before we could get toany great river, and the small creeks are dry. "

The afternoon grew darker and darker. The sun went out; under the blacksmoke rolled a red sea whose waves grew nearer and nearer. The childrenbegan to cry and the women to pray. An old man came hobbling out to thearch of the trees. 

"I foretold it, " said he. "The world is on fire. The Day of Judgment hascome! A time and times time, and a half. "

He had been a Millerite. 

"It will be here in an hour, " said a harvester. 

But there arose a counter-wind. The wall of fire seemed to be stayed. The smoke columns rose to the heavens like Babel towers. 

Afar, families were seen fleeing on horseback toward the bed of a creekwhich they hoped to find flowing, but which had run dry. 

"This is awful!" said Jasper. "It looks as though the heavens were inflames. "

He shaded his hands and looked into the open space. 

"What is that?" he asked. 

A black horse came running toward the island, bounding through the grassas though impelled by spurs. As he leered, Jasper saw the form of ahuman being stretched at his side. Was the form an Indian?

On came the horse. He leered again, exposing to view a yellow body and aplumed head. 

"It's an Indian, " said Jasper. 

The fire flattened and darkened for a time, and then rolled on again. Animals were fleeing everywhere, plunging and bellowing, and the air waswild and tempestuous with the cries of birds. The little animals couldbe seen leaping out of the prairie grass. The earth, air, and skyseemed alive with terror. 

The black horse came plunging toward the island. 

"How can a horse run that way and live?" asked Jasper. "He is bearing amessenger. It is friendly or hostile Indian that is clinging to hisside. "

Jasper bent his eyes on the plunging animal to see him leer, forwhenever the sidling motion was made it brought to view the tawnyhorizontal form that seemed to be clinging to the bridle, as if ridingfor life. Suddenly there arose a cry from the islanders:

"Look! look! Who has done it? There is a counter-fire ahead. _They_ willall perish!"

A mile or more in front of the island, and in the opposite directionfrom the other fire, another great billow of smoke arose spirally intothe air. The people and animals who had been fleeing toward the creek, which they thought contained water, but which was dry, all turned andcame running toward the island grove. Even the birds came beating back. 

"_That_ fire was set by the Indians, " said the harvesters. "It isstarted across the track of the other fire to destroy us all. An Indianset the fires. "

"That is an Indian skirting around us on the back of a horse, " saidanother. "He is holding on to the horse by the mane with his hands, andby the flanks with his feet. The Indians have done this!"

"The other fire will run back, though against the wind. The prairie isso dry that the fire will run everywhere. We must set a counter-fire. "

"Set a counter-fire!" exclaimed many voices. 

The purpose of the counter-fire was to destroy the dry grass, so thatwhen the other fires should reach the place it would find nothing toburn. 

"But the people!" said Jasper. "See them! They are hurrying here; acounter-fire would drive them away!"

An awful scene followed. Horses, cattle, animals of many kinds camepanting to the island. Many of them had been fleeing for miles, and sankdown under the trees as if ready to perish. There was one enormous bisonamong them. The tops of the trees were filled with birds, cawing anduttering a chaos of cries. The air seemed to rain birds, and the earthto pour forth animals. The sky above turned to inky blackness. Men, women, and children came rushing into the trees from every direction, some crying on Heaven for mercy, some begging for water, all of themexhausted and seemingly ready to die. The island grove was like a greatfuneral pyre. 

Jasper lifted his hands and called the school and the people around him, knelt down, and prayed for help amid the cries of distress that rose onevery hand. He then looked for the black horse and the plumed rideragain. 

They were drawing near in the darkening air. The figure of the rider wasmore distinct. The people saw it, and cried, "An Indian!" Some said, "Itis a scout!" and others, "It is he who set the fire!"

The wind rose and changed, caused by the heated air in the distance. Thecurrents ran hither and thither like drafts in a room of open doors. Oneof these unnatural drafts caused a new terror to spread among the peopleand animals and birds. It drew up into the air a great column of sparksand, scattered them through the open space, and a rain of fire filledthe sky and descended upon the grove. 

[Illustration: THE APPROACH OF THE MYSTERIOUS INDIAN. ]

It was a splendid but terrible sight. 

"The end of all things is at hand, " said the old Millerite. "The starsare beginning to fall. "

But the rain of fire lost its force as it neared the earth, and it fellin cinders and ashes. 

"An Indian! an Indian!" cried many voices. 

The black horse came plunging into near view, and rushed for the treesand sank down with foaming sides and mouth. The people shouted. Thererolled from his side the lithe and supple form of a young Indian, plumed, and dressed in yellow buckskin. What did it mean? The Indian layon the ground like one dead. The people gathered around him, and Jaspercame to him and bent over him, and parted the black hair from his face. Suddenly Jasper started back and uttered a cry. 

"What is it?" asked the people. 

"It is my old Indian guide--it is Waubeno. Bring him water, and we willrevive him, and he will tell us what to do. --Waubeno! Waubeno!"

The Indian seemed to know that voice. He revived, and looked around him, and stared at the people. 

"Give him water, " said Jasper. 

A boy brought a cup of water and offered it to the Indian. The latterstarted up, and cried:

"Away! I am here to die among you. My tongue burns, but I did not comehere to drink. I came here to die. The white man killed my father, and Ihave come back with the avengers, and we have brought with us theJudgment Day. " He stood and listened to the cries of distress. 

"Hear the trees cry for help--all the birds of the prairie--but they cryfor naught. My father hears them cry. The cry is sweet to his ears. Heis waiting for me. We are all about to die. When the wheat-fields blazeand the stacks take fire, and the houses crackle, then we shall all die. So says Waubeno. " He listened again. 

"Hear the earth cry--all the animals. My father hears--his soul hears. This is the day that I have carried in my soul. My spirit is in thefire. "

He listened again. The prairie roared with the hot air, the flames, andthe clouds of smoke. There fell another rain of fire, and women shriekedfor mercy, and children cried on their mothers' breasts. 

"Hear the people cry! I have waited for that cry for a hundred moons. Ihave paid my vow. We have kindled the fire of the anger of theheavens--it is coming. I will die with you like the son of a warrior. The souls of the warriors are gathering to see me die. I am Waubeno. "

The people pressed upon him, and glared at him. 

"He set the fire!" they cried. "The Indian fiend!"

"I set the fire, " he said; "I and Black Hawk's men. _They_ have escaped. I have done my work, and I want to die. "

Jasper lifted his hat, and with bared head stood forth in the view ofthe Indian. 

"Waubeno, do you want to see _me_ die?"

He started with a cry of pain. His eyes burned. 

"My father--I did not know that you were here. Heaven pity Waubeno now!"

"Waubeno, this is cruel!"

"Cruel? This country was once called the Red Man's Paradise. Cruel? Thewhite man made the red man drunk with fire-water, and made him sign afalse treaty, and then drove him away. Cruel? Think of the women thewhites shot in the river for coming back to their own corn-fieldsstarving to gather their own corn. Cruel? Why is the Red Man's Paradiseno longer ours? Cruel? The Rock River flows for us no more; the springbrings the flowers to these prairies for us no more; the bluff rises inthe summer sky, but the red man may no longer sit upon it. Cruel? Thinkhow your people murdered my father. Is it more cruel for the Indian todo these things than for the white man to do them? You have emptied theRed Man's Paradise, and Waubeno has fulfilled the vow that he made tohis father. The clouds are on fire. I would have saved you had I known, but you must perish with your people. I shall die with you. I amWaubeno. I am proud to be Waubeno. I am the avenger of my race. 

"But, white brother, listen. I tried to prevent it. I remembered yourteaching, and I tried to prevent it by our council-fires over theMississippi. Main-Pogue tried to prevent it. I thought of the man whosaved him in the war, and I wondered who he was, and tried to prevent itfor _his_ sake. 

"Then said they to me: 'We go to avenge the loss of our country, the RedMan's Paradise. The grass is feathers. We go to burn. Waubeno, rememberyour father's death. You are the son of Alknomook!'

"White brother, I have come. I tried to prevent it, but this hand hasobeyed the voice of my people. I have kindled the fires of the woe. Theworld is on fire. I tried to prevent it, but it has come. "

"Waubeno, do you remember _Lincoln_?"

"Lincoln? The Indians killed his father's father. I have often thoughtof that. He said that he would do right by an Indian. I have thought ofthat. I love that man. I would die for such a man. "

"Waubeno, who saved the life of Main-Pogue?"

"I don't know, father. I would die for _that man_. "

"Did Main-Pogue not tell you?"

"He told me 'twas a white captain saved him. Is the white captain here?"

"No. Waubeno, listen. That white captain was Lincoln. "

"Lincoln? Whose father's father the red man killed? Was it he who savedMain-Pogue? Lincoln? He forced his men to do right. He did himselfharm. "

"Yes, he did himself harm to do right. Waubeno, do you remember yourpromise that you made to me? You said that you would never avenge thedeath of your father, if you could find one white man who would dohimself harm for the sake of an Indian. "

Waubeno leaped upon his feet, and his black eye swept the clouds, andthe circle of fire, and the distressed people on every hand. 

"Father, I can save you now. I know how. I will do it _for Lincoln'ssake_. 

"Ho! ho!" he cried. "Kill me an ox, and Waubeno will save you. Kill mesix oxen, and Waubeno will save you. Give me raw hides, and do as I do, and Waubeno will save you. Ho! ho! The gods have spoken to Waubeno. Avoice comes from the sky to Waubeno. It has spoken here. Ho! ho!"

He put his hand upon his heart, then rushed in among the oxen. A companyof men followed him. 

He slew an ox with his knife, and quickly removed the hide. The peoplelooked upon him with horror; they thought him demented. What was hedoing? What was he going to do?

He tied the great hide to his horse's neck, so that the raw side of itwould drag flat upon the ground, and, turning to Jasper, he said:

"That will smother fire. Ho! ho! How?"

The fire was fast approaching some stacks of wheat on the edge of thesettlement. Waubeno saw the peril, and leaped upon his horse. 

"Kill more cattle. Get more hides for Waubeno, " he said. 

He rode away toward the stacks, guiding the horse in such a way that theraw hide swept the ground. The people watched him. He seemed to rideinto the fire. 

"He is riding to death!" said the people. "He is mad!"

But as he rode the fire was stayed, and a rim of black smoke rose in itsstead. Near the stacks the fire stopped. 

"He is the Evil One himself, " said the old Millerite. "That Indian boyis no human form. "

Out of the black came the horse plunging, bearing the boy, who waved hishands to the people. Then the horse plunged away, as though wild, towardthe outer edge of the great sea of fire. 

The horse and rider rushed into the flames, and the same strange effectsfollowed. The running flame and white cloud changed into black smoke, and the destruction was arrested. 

The people watched the boy as he rode half hidden in rolling smoke, hisred plumes waving above the verge of the flaming sea. What a scene itwas as he rode there, round and round, like the enchanted form of a morethan human deliverer! But the effect of his movements at last ceased. 

"He is coming back, " said the people. 

Out of the fire rushed the horse and rider toward the island groveagain. 

"Give me new hides!" he cried, as, singed and blackened, he swept intothe trees. "The hide is dead and shriveled. Give me new hides. Ho! ho!"

New hides were provided by killing oxen. He tied two together like acarpet, with the raw side upon the earth. He attached them by a longrope to the horse's neck, and dashed forth again, crying:

"Do the same, and follow me. "

The horse seemed maddened again. It flew toward the fire as if drawn bya spell, and plunged into it like a bather into the sea. Waubeno triedto deaden the fire in the whole circle. Round and round the island herode, in the tide of the advancing flames. The people understood hismethod now, and the men secured new hides and attached them to horses, and followed him. He led them, crying and waving his hands. Round andround he led them, round and round, and where they rode the white smokechanged into black smoke and the fire died. 

The people secured raw hides by killing the poor cattle, and came out tothe verge of the fiery sea and checked the progress of the flames inplaces. In the midst of the excitement a roll of thunder was heard inthe sky. 

"'Tis the trumpet of doom, " said the old Millerite. 

The people heard it with terror, and yet with hope. It might be anapproaching shower. If it were, they were saved. 

The fire in front of them was checked. Not the great sea, but thecurrent that was rolling toward the island grove. The fire at the northwas rushing forward, but it moved backward toward the place slowly. Thewomen began to soak blankets and clothing in water, and so prepared tohelp the men fight the flames. An hour passed. In the midst of thecrisis the riding men, the hurrying women, the encircling fire, thebillows of smoke, a flame came zigzagging down from the sky. The peoplestood still. Had the last day indeed come?

Then followed a crash of thunder that shook the earth. The people fellupon their knees. The sky darkened, and great drops of rain began tofall. 

Waubeno had checked the current of the flame that would have destroyedthe settlement in an hour, and had taught the men how to arrest anadvancing tide of flame. The people began to have hope. All was nowactivity on the part of the people. Smoke filled the sky. 

"There is a cloud above the smoke, " said many. "God will save us all. "

Waubeno came flying back again to the grove. 

"It thunders, " he cried. "The Rain-god is coming. If I can keep backthe fire an hour, the Rain-god will come. Hides! hides! Quick, morehides! Ho! ho!"

New hides were provided, and he swept forth again. 

The island grove was now like a vast oven. The air was stifling. Theanimals laid down and rolled their tongues from their mouths. But thefire in front did not advance. It seemed deadened. The river of flameforked and ran in other directions, but it was stayed in front of thegrove, houses, corn-fields, and stacks, and it was the hand that had setflames that had broken its force in the road to the settlements. 

There were sudden dashes of rain, and the smoke turned into blacknesseverywhere. Another flash of lightning smote the gloom, followed by arattling of thunder that seemed as if the spirit of the storm wasdriving his chariot through the air. Then it poured as though a lake wascoming down. In an hour the fire was dead. The cloud parted, theslanting sun came out, revealing a prairie as black as ink. 

The people fled to the shelter of the houses and sheds at the approachof the rain. The animals crowded under the trees, and the birds hid inthe boughs. After the rain-burst the people gathered together again, andeach one asked:

"Where is the Indian boy?"

He was not among them. 

Had he perished?

A red sunset flamed over the prairies and the birds filled the tree-topswith the gladness of song. It seemed to all as if the earth and sky hadcome back again. 

In the glare of the sunset-fire a horse and rider were seen slowlyapproaching the island grove. 

"It is Waubeno, " said one to the other. "The horse is disabled. "

The people went out to meet the Indian boy. The horse was burned andblind, and staggered as he came on. And the rider! He had drawn theflames into his vitals; he had been internally burned, and was dying. 

He reeled from his blind horse, and fell before the people. Jasper laidhis hand upon him. 

"Father, I have drunk the cup of fire. I have kept my promise. I amabout to die. The birds are happy. They are singing the death-song ofWaubeno. "

His flesh quivered as he lay there, and Jasper bent over him in pity. 

"Waubeno, do you suffer?"

"The stars do not complain, white brother. The clouded sun does notcomplain. The winds complain, and the waters, and women and children. Waubeno does not complain. "

A spasm shook his frame. It passed. 

"White brother, go beyond the Mississippi and teach my people. You dopity them. This was once their paradise. They loved it. They struggled. Go to them with the Book of God. "

"Waubeno, I will go. "

"The sun sets over the Mississippi. 'Tis sunset there. You will go tothe land of the sunset?"

"Yes, Waubeno. I feel in my heart the call to go. I love and pity yourpeople. "

"Pour water upon me; I am burning. I shall go when the moon comes up, when the moon comes up into the shady sky. My father suffered, but hedid not complain. Waubeno does not complain. Don't pity me. Pity my poorpeople. I love my people. Teach my people, and cover me forever with ablanket of the earth. "

He lay on the cool grass under the trees for several hours in terribleagony, and the people watched by his side. 

"When the moon rises, " he said, "I shall go. I shall never see the RedMan's Paradise again. Tell me when the moon rises. I am going to sleepnow. "

The great moon rose at last, its disk hanging like a wheel of dead goldon the verge of the horizon in the smoky air. 

"Waubeno, " said Jasper, "the moon is rising. "

He opened his eyes, and said:

"We kindled the fire for our fathers' sake, and I smote it for him whoprotected Main-Pogue. What was his name, father? Say it to me. "

"Lincoln. "

"Yes, Lincoln. He had come for revenge, but he did what was right. Heforgave. I forgive everybody. I drank the fire for Lincoln's sake. "

The moon burned along the sky; the stars came out; and at midnight allwas still. Waubeno lay dead under the trees, and the people with timidsteps vanished hither and thither into the cabins and sheds. 

They killed the poor blind horse in the morning, and laid Waubeno torest in a blanket, in a grave under the trees. 

[Illustration: LINCOLN FAMILY RECORD, Written by Abraham Lincoln in his Father's Bible. 

_From original in possession of C. F. Gunther, Esq. , Chicago. _]

CHAPTER XXIV. 

"OUR LINCOLN IS THE MAN. "

Fifteen years have passed since the events described in the lastchapter. It is the year 1860. A great political crisis is upon thecountry, and Abraham Lincoln has been selected to lead one great partyof the people, because he had faith in the principle that right ismight. The time came, as the Tunker had prophesied, when the peoplewanted a man of integrity for their leader--a man who had a heart thatcould be trusted. They elected him to the Legislature when he was almosta boy and had not decent clothes to wear. The young legislator walkedover the prairies of Illinois to the Capitol to save the traveling fare. As a legislator he had faith that right is might, and was true to hisconvictions. 

"He has a heart that we can trust, " said the people, and they sent himto Congress. He was true in Washington, as in Illinois. 

"He has a heart we can trust, " said the people; "let us send him to theSenate. "

He failed of an election, but it was because his convictions of rightwere in advance of the public mind at the time; but he who is defeatedfor a principle, triumphs. The greatest victors are those who arevanquished in the cause of truth, justice, and right; for the causelives, and they live in the cause that must prevail. 

Again the people wanted a leader--all the people who represented a greatcause--and Illinois said to the people:

"Make our Lincoln your leader; he has a heart that we can trust, " andLincoln was made the heart of the people in the great cause of humanrights. Lincoln, who had defended the little animals of the woods. Lincoln, who had been true to his pioneer father, when the experiencehad cost him years of toilsome life. Lincoln, who had pitied the slavein the New Orleans market, and whose soul had cried to Heaven for thescales of Justice. Lincoln, who had protected the old Indian amid thegibes of his comrades. Lincoln, who had studied by pine-knots, madepoetry on old shovels, and read law on lonely roads. Lincoln, who hadhad a kindly word and pleasant story for everybody, pitied everybody, loved everybody, and forgave everybody, and yet carried a sad heart. Lincoln, who had resolved that in law and politics he would do justright. 

John Hanks had brought some of the rails that the candidate for thepresidency had split into the Convention of Illinois, and the rails thatrepresented the hardships of pioneer life became the oriflamme of theleader from the prairies. He who is true to a nation is first true tohis parents and home. 

That was an ever-to-be-remembered day when, in August, 1860, the peopleof the great West with one accord arranged to visit Abraham Lincoln, thecandidate for the presidency, at Springfield, Illinois. Seventythousand strangers poured into the prairie city. They came from Indiana, Iowa, and the lakes. Thousands came from Chicago. Men came in wagons, bringing their wives and children. They brought tents, camp-kettles, andcoffee-pots. Says a graphic writer who saw the scene:

"Every road leading to the city is crowded for twenty miles withvehicles. The weather is fine, and a little overwarm. Girls can dress inwhite, and bare their arms and necks without danger; the women can bringtheir children. Everything that was ever done at any other mass-meetingis done here. Locomotive-builders are making a boiler; blacksmiths areheating and hammering their irons; the iron-founders are molding theirpatterns; the rail-splitters are showing the people how Uncle Abe usedto split rails; every other town has its wagon-load of thirty-one girlsin white to represent the States; bands of music, numerous almost asthose of McClellan on Arlington Heights in 1862, are playing; old men ofthe War of 1812, with their old wives, their children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, are here: making a procession of human beings, horses, and carriages not less than ten miles in length. And yet theprocession might have left the town and the people would scarcely bemissed. 

"There is an immense wigwam, with galleries like a theatre; but thereare people enough not in the procession to fill a dozen like it. Half anhour is long enough to witness the moving panorama of men and women, horses, carriages, representatives of trades, mottoes, and burlesques, and listen to the bands. "

And among those who came to see the great procession, therail-splitters, and the sights, were the Tunker from the Indian schoolsover the Mississippi, and Aunt Indiana from Indiana. 

There was a visitor from the East who became the hero of the great day. He is living now (1891) in Chelsea, Mass. , near the Soldiers' Home, towhich he often goes to sing, and is known there as "Father Locke. " Hewas a natural minstrel, and songs of his, like "Down by the Sea, " havebeen sung all over the world. One of his songs has moved thousands ofhearts in sorrow, and pictures his own truly loving and beautiful soul:

 "There's a fresh little mound near the willow, Where at evening I wander and weep; There's a dear vacant spot on my pillow, Where a sweet little face used to sleep. There were pretty blue eyes, but they slumber In silence, beneath the dark mold, And the little pet lamb of our number Has gone to the heavenly fold. "

This man, with the approval of President Lincoln, went as a minstrel tothe Army of the Potomac. We think that he was the only minstrel whofollowed our army, like the war-singers of old. In a book published forprivate use, entitled Three Years in Camp and Hospital, "Father Locke"thus tells the story of his interview with President Lincoln at theWhite House:

"Giving his hand, and saying he recollected me, he asked what he coulddo for me. 

"'I want no office, Mr. President. I came to ask for one, but havechanged my mind since coming into this house. When it comes to turningbeggar, I shall shun the places where all the other beggars go. I amgoing to the army to sing for the soldiers, as the poets and balladistsof old sang in war. Our soldiers must take as much interest in songs andsinging as did those of ancient times. I only wished to shake hands withyou, and obtain a letter of recommendation to the commanding officers, that they may receive and treat me kindly. '

"'I will give you a letter with pleasure, but you do not need one; yoursinging will make you all right. '

"On my rising to leave, he gave his hand, saying: 'God bless you; I amglad you do not want an office. Go to the army, and cheer the men aroundtheir camp-fires with your songs, remembering that a great man said, "Let me but make the songs of a nation, and I care not who makes itslaws. "'"

The President then told him how to secure a pass into the lines of thearmy, and the man went forth to write and to sing his inspirations, likea balladist of old. 

His songs were the delight of many camps of the Army of the Potomac inthe first dark year of the war. They were sung in the camp, and theybelonged to the inside army life, but were little known outside of thearmy. They are still fondly remembered by the veterans, and are sung atreunions and camp-fires. 

We give one of these songs and its original music here. It has thespirit of the time and the events, and every note is a pulse-beat:

_We are Marching on to Richmond. _

WORDS AND MUSIC BY E. W. LOCKE. 

Published by the permission of the Composer. 

 1. Our knapsacks sling and blithely sing, We're marching on to 2. Our foes are near, their drums we hear, They're camped a-bout in

 Rich-mond; With weap-ons bright, and hearts so light, We're Rich-mond; With pick-ets out, to tell the route Our

 march-ing on to Rich-mond; Each wea-ry mile with Ar-my takes to Rich-mond; We've craft-y foes to

 song be-guile, We're marching on to Richmond; The roads are meet our blows, No doubt they'll fight for Richmond; The brave may

 rough, but smooth e-nough To take us safe to Richmond. Die, but nev-er fly, We'll cut our way to Richmond. 

 CHORUS. 

 Then tramp a-way while the bu-gles play, We're march-ing on to Rich-mond; Our flag shall gleam in the morn-ing beam, From man-y a spire in Rich-mond. 

 3. 

 "But yesterday, in murderous fray, While marching on to Richmond, We parted here from comrades dear, While marching on to Richmond; With manly sighs and tearful eyes, While marching on to Richmond, We laid the braves in peaceful graves, And started on to Richmond. 

 4. 

 "Our friends away are sad to-day, Because we march to Richmond; With loving fear they shrink to hear About our march to Richmond; The pen shall tell that they who fell While marching on to Richmond, Had hearts aglow and face to foe, And died in sight of Richmond. 

 5. 

 "Our thoughts shall roam to scenes of home, While marching on to Richmond; The vacant chair that's waiting there, While we march on to Richmond; 'Twill not be long till shout and song We'll raise aloud in Richmond, And war's rude blast will soon be past, And we'll go home from Richmond. "

This song-writer had brought a song to the great Springfield assembly. He sang it when the people were in a receptive mood. It voiced theirhearts, and its influence was electric. As he rose before the assemblyon that August day under the prairie sun, and sang: "Hark! hark! asignal-gun is heard, " a stillness came over the great sea of the people. The figures of the first verse filled the imagination, but the choruswas like a bugle-call:

 "THE SHIP OF STATE. 

 "(Sung at the Springfield Convention. )

 "Hark! hark! a signal-gun is heard, Just out beyond the fort; The good old Ship of State, my boys, Is coming into port. With shattered sails, and anchors gone, I fear the rogues will strand her; She carries now a sorry crew, And needs a new commander. 

 "Our Lincoln is the man! Our Lincoln is the man! With a sturdy mate From the Pine-Tree State, Our Lincoln is the man!

 "Four years ago she put to sea, With prospects brightly beaming; Her hull was strong, her sails new-bent, And every pennant streaming; She loved the gale, she plowed the waves, Nor feared the deep's commotion; Majestic, nobly on she sailed, Proud mistress of the ocean. 

 "There's mutiny aboard the ship; There's feud no force can smother; Their blood is up to fever-heat; They're cutting down each other. Buchanan here, and Douglas there, Are belching forth their thunder, While cunning rogues are sly at work In pocketing the plunder. 

 "Our ship is badly out of trim; 'Tis time to calk and grave her; She's foul with stench of human gore; They've turned her to a slaver. She's cruised about from coast to coast, The flying bondman hunting, Until she's strained from stem to stern, And lost her sails and bunting. 

 "Old Abram is the man! Old Abram is the man! And he'll trim her sails, As he split the rails. Old Abram is the man!

 "We'll give her what repairs she needs-- A thorough overhauling; Her sordid crew shall be dismissed, To seek some honest calling. Brave Lincoln soon shall take the helm, On truth and right relying; In calm or storm, in peace or war, He'll keep her colors flying. 

 "Old Abram is the man! Old Abram is the man! With a sturdy mate From the Pine-Tree State, Old Abram is the man!"

These words seem commonplace to-day, but they were trumpet-notes then. "Our Lincoln is the man!" trembled on every tongue, and a tumultuousapplause arose that shook the air. The enthusiasm grew; the minstrel hadvoiced the people, and they would not let him stop singing. They finallymounted him on their shoulders and carried him about in triumph, like avictor bard of old. Ever rang the chorus from the lips of the people, "Our Lincoln is the man!" "Old Abram is the man!"

Lincoln heard the song. He loved songs. One of his favorite songs was"Twenty Years ago. " But this was the first time, probably, that he hadheard himself sung. He was living at that time in the plain house inSpringfield that has been made familiar by pictures. The song delightedhim, but he, of all the thousands, was forbidden by his position toexpress his pleasure in the song. He would have liked to join with themultitudes in singing "Our Lincoln is the man!" had not the situationsealed his lips. But after the scene was over, and the great mass ofpeople began to melt away, he sought the minstrel, and said:

"Come to my room, and sing to me the song privately. _I_ want to hearyou sing it. "

So he listened to it in private, while it was being borne over theprairies on tens of thousands of lips. Did he then dream that thenations would one day sing the song of his achievements, that his deathwould be tolled by the bells of all lands, and his dirge fill thechurches of Christendom with tears? It may have been that his destiny indim outline rose before him, for the events of his life were hurrying. 

Aunt Indiana was there, and she found the Tunker. 

"The land o' sakes and daisies!" she said. "That we should both be here!Well, elder, I give it up! I was agin Lincoln until I heard all thepeople a-singin' that song; then it came over me that I was doin' justwhat I hadn't ought to, and I began to sing 'Old Lincoln is the man!'just as though it had been a Methody hymn written by Wesley himself. "

"I am glad that you have changed your mind, and that I have lived to seemy prophecy, that Lincoln would become the heart of the people, fulfilled. "

"Elder, I tell you what let's we do. "

"What, my good woman?"

"Let's we each get a rail, and go down before Abe's winder, and I'llsing as loud as anybody:

 "'Old Abram is the man! Old Abram is the man! And he'll trim her sails As he split the rails. Old Abram is the man!'

I'll do it, if you will. I've been all wrong from the first. Why, eventhe Grigsbys are goin' to vote for him, and I'm goin' to do the rightthing myself. Abe always had a human heart, and it is that which is themost human that leads off in this world. "

Aunt Indiana found a rail. The streets of Springfield were full of railsthat the people had brought in honor of Lincoln's hard work on hisfather's barn in early Illinois. She also found a flag. Flags were asmany as rails on this remarkable occasion. She set the flag into the topof the rail, and started for the street that led past Lincoln's door. 

"Come on, elder; we'll be a procession all by ourselves. "

The two arrived at the house where Lincoln lived, the Tunker in hisbuttonless gown, and Aunt Indiana with her corn-bonnet, printed shawl, rail, and flag. The procession of two came to a halt before the openwindow, and presently, framed in the open window, like a picture, theface of Abraham Lincoln appeared. That face lighted up as it fell uponAunt Indiana. 

She made a low courtesy, and lifted the rail and the flag, and brokeforth in a tone that would have led a camp-meeting:

 "'Our Abram is the man! Our Abram is the man! With a sturdy mate From the Pine-Tree State, Our Abram is the man!'

"Elder, you sing, and we'll go over it again. "

Aunt Indiana waved the flag and sang the refrain again, and said:

"Abe Lincoln, I'm goin' to vote for ye, though I never thought I should. But you shall have my vote with all the rest. --Lawdy sakes and daisies, elder--I forgot; I can't vote, can I? I'm just a woman. I've got allmixed up and carried away, but

 "'Our Abram is the man!'"

[Illustration: ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 

_From a photograph by Alexander Hesler, Chicago, 1858. _]

Six years have passed. The gardens of Washington are bursting intobloom. The sky is purple under a clear sun. It is Wednesday morning, the19th of April, 1865. 

All the bells are tolling, and the whole city is robed in black. Ateleven o'clock some sixty clergymen enter the White House, followed bythe governors of the States. At noon comes the long procession ofGovernment officers, followed by the diplomatic corps. 

In the sable rooms rises a dark catafalque, and in it lies a waxen face. 

Toll!--the bells of Washington, Georgetown, and Alexandria! Minute-gunsboom. Around that dead face the representatives of the nation, and ofall nations, pass, and tears fall like rain. 

A funeral car of flowers moves through the streets. Abraham Lincoln hasdone his work. He is on his journey back to the scenes of his childhood!The boy who defended the turtles, the man who stretched out his arm overthe defenseless Indian in the Black Hawk War, and who freed the slave;the man of whom no one ever asked pity in vain--he is going back to theprairies, to sleep his eternal sleep among the violets. 

Toll! The bells of all the cities and towns of the loyal nation aretolling. In every principal church in all the land people have met toweep and to pray. Half-mast flags everywhere meet the breeze. 

They laid the body beneath the rotunda of the Capitol, amid the Aprilflowers and broken magnolias. 

Then homeward--through Baltimore, robed in black; through Philadelphia, through New York, Cleveland, Indianapolis, and Chicago. The car rollson, over flowers and under black flags, amid the tolling of the bells ofcities and the bells of the simple country church-towers. All laborceases. The whole people stop to wonder and to weep. 

The dirges cease. The muffled drums are still. The broken earth of theprairies is wrapped around the dead commoner, the fallen apostle ofhumanity, the universal brother of all who toil and struggle. 

The courts of Europe join in the lamentation. Never yet was a man weptlike this man. 

His monument ennobles the world. He stands in eternal bronze in ahundred cities. And why? Because he had a heart to feel; because to himall men had been brothers of equal blood and birthright; and because hehad had faith that "RIGHT MAKES MIGHT. "

CHAPTER XXV. 

AT THE LAST. 

From the magnolias to the Northern orchards, from the apple-blooms tothe prairie violets! The casket was laid in the tomb. Twilight came; themultitudes had gone. It was ended now, and night was falling. 

Two forms stood beside the closed door of the tomb; one was an old, gray-haired woman, the other was a patriarchal-looking man. 

The woman's gray hairs blew about her white face like silver threads, and she pushed it back with her withered hand. 

"Sister Olive, " said the old man, "_he_ loved others better thanhimself; and it is not this tomb, but the great heart of the world, thathas taken him in. I felt that he was called. I felt it years ago. "

"Heaven forgive a poor old woman, elder! I misjudged that man. Seehere. "

She held up a bunch of half-withered prairie violets that she hadcarried about with her all the day, and then went and laid them on thetomb. 

"For Lincoln's sake! for Lincoln's sake!" she said, crying like a child. 

The two went away in the shadows, talking of all the past, and each haslong slept under the violets of the prairies. 

THE END. 

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