HIS FIRST BOOKS. 23 mighty cares laid on him, but that scene in the forest by the lonely grave of his mother was never to be forgotten. It was a miserable household that was left for the three youngsters when shiftless Thomas Lincoln was the only reliance of the little brood. We can imagine how unkempt and ragged the three became, left almost wholly to themselves. Sarah, scarcely twelve years old, was the housekeeper. Abe, two years younger, came next, and Dennis Hanks, eighteen months younger than young Lincoln, was the infant of the family. Thomas Lincoln did not brood long over his loneliness. His was a cheerful temper, and he hoped that the good Lord would send them help, somehow and some day, but how and when, he never stopped to think. Deer-flesh and the birds of the forest, broiled on the coals, were the staple of their daily food. The father knew better than Sarah did, how to mix an ash-cake of corn-meal, and with milk from the cow, and an occasional slab of "side-meat," or smoked side of pork, the family was never long hungry. It was primitive and hard fare. But a boy might nourish himself on that and live to be President. Little Abraham had what was more to him than meat and drink-books. Boys of the present age, turning over languidly the piles of books at their command, beautiful, entertaining, instructive, and fascinating, gay with binding and pictures, would stand aghast at the slimness of the stock that made Abraham Lincoln's heart glad. The first books he read were the Bible, Æsop's Fables and "The Pilgrim's Progress." On these three books was formed the literary taste of Abraham Lincoln. He might have fared worse. He thought himself the most fortunate boy in the country, and so good use did he make of these standard works that he could repeat from memory whole chapters of the Bible, many of the most striking passages of Bunyan's immortal book, and every one of the fables of Æsop. He early took to the study of the lives and characters of eminent men, and a life of Henry Clay, which his mother had managed to buy for him, was one of his choicest treasures. From the day of his first reading the biography of the great Kentuckian, Lincoln dated his undying admiration for Henry Clay. Ramsay's “Life of Washington was another book early found among the settlers and devoured with a book-hunger most pathetic. Hearing of another life of Washington, written by Weems, young Lincoln went in pursuit of it and joyfully carried it home in the bosom of his hunting shirt. Reading this by the light of a "tallow-dip," or home-made candle, until the feeble thing had burned down to its end, Abraham tucked the precious volume into a chink in the log-wall of the cabin and went to sleep. A driving storm came up in the night, and the book was soaked through and ruined when the eager boy sought for it in the early morning light. Here was a great misfortune! It was a borrowed book, and honest Abe was in despair over its destruction in his hands. With a heavy heart, he took it back to its owner. Mr. Crawford, who had lent it, looked at Abraham with an assumed severity, and asked PAYING FOR A BOOK. 25 him what he proposed to do about it. The lad offered to do any thing that Mr. Crawford thought fair and just. A settlement was made, young Abe covenanting to pull "fodder," or corn-stalks, for three days, by way of settlement. "And does that pay for the book, or for the damage done to it?" asked the shrewd boy, taking his first lessons in worldly wisdom. 66 Wal, I allow," said the kindly owner of the precious book, "that it won't be much account to me or anybody else now, and the bargain is that you pull fodder three days, and the book is yours." This was the first book that Abraham Lincoln ever earned and paid for, and, discolored and blistered though it was, it was to him of value incalculable. He laid to heart the lessons of the life of Washington, and, years after, standing near the battle-ground of Trenton, and recalling the pages of the book hidden in the crevices of the log-cabin in the Indiana wilderness, he said: "I remember all the accounts there given of the battle-fields and the struggles for the liberties of the country, and none fixed themselves so deeply as the struggle here at Trenton, New Jersey. I recollect thinking then, boy even though I was, that there must have been something more than common that those men struggled for." The boy had begun to think for himself when he was searching for an explanation of the fervor and determination with which the fathers of the republic endured hardship and manfully plunged into the desperate struggle. |