trader knew his man, and made an offer to Lincoln, placing him in full charge of the venture. Lincoln accepted. His good fortune seemed wonderful. And when he and his companion, young Allen Gentry, cut loose from Gentryville and slowly drifted down Pigeon Creek into the Ohio, on a voyage of eighteen hundred miles, not Columbus sailing forth into unknown seas, nor the master of the first steamship that ploughed the Atlantic, could have been more impressed with the mightiness of the prospect before him than the backwoods boy on his first expedition from the forests of southern Indiana.

As they descended the mighty Father of Waters, then flowing unvexed to the sea, plantations began to dot the landscape. Here and there friendly or inquisitive settlers came down to the bank to ask them about their "load." Or, when they made fast to the most convenient tree at nightfall, a far-wandering hunter came to share "pot-luck" and the gossip of the region with the youthful adventurers. In this way they picked up a store of information, useful and otherwise, and many a queer tale of frontier life.

Tied up to a bank one night, as was their custom, the twain slept soundly after their day of toil, when they were waked by a scrambling near at hand. Springing to his feet, Abraham shouted, "Who's there?" There was no reply, and, seizing a handspike, he made ready for an attack. Seven negroes, evidently on an errand of plunder, now appeared. Abe held himself ready to repel boarders," and the first man that jumped on board was received with a heavy blow that knocked him into the water. A second, a third, and a fourth, essaying the same thing, were similarly received. The other three, seeing they were no match

for the tall backwoodsman and his ally, took to their heels, pursued by Abe and Allen. When they overtook the negroes, a hand-to-hand fight ensued; but the thieves finally filed again, leaving on the future President a scar that he carried to his grave.

The cargo was sold to good advantage before reaching New Orleans. Then, the empty boat being disposed of, for it would not pay to take it home up-stream, the two adventurers, elated with their first notable success, made their way homeward by steamboat. They had seen a bit of the great world. And Abraham Lincoln had seen what he never forgot, his first close view of human slavery; slaves toiling on the plantations, slaves bending beneath their tasks on the levees of the river towns, and, what was more memorable than all, slaves in squads and coffles, torn from old homes and families far away, bound up the river on the steamboats that were now frequent on the busy Mississippi. He who was to be known through all coming time as The Emancipator had made his first study of his fellow-man in hopeless bondage.

Abraham Lincoln, up to this point, was what is called a self-made man in the strictest sense of that word. What he had learned, he had learned of himself. What he knew, he knew with absolute accuracy. Self-taught and self-dependent, he had all his resources, mental, moral, and physical, well in hand. So selfreliant and yet, withal, so modest and diffident a character was probably never known before. Growing up in the almost trackless forest, he had absorbed the influences of the wild-wood. He had been held close to nature, had had as much time for solitary meditation as was wholesome for him; and he had never been for an hour dependent on other people, or on other

than the humblest means, for intellectual stimulus. Such as he was, it may be said, God had made him. that was within him was thoroughly

The man original.

Henceforth he was not to be hidden in the backwoods. The stalwart young pioneer, now six feet four inches tall, could outrun and outwalk any one of his comrades, and, as has been said by those who knew him then, he could strike the hardest blow with axe or maul, jump higher and farther than any of his fellows, and there was no one, far or near, that could lay him on his back." These accomplishments counted for much in a community where physical endurance and muscular strength were needed for every day's duties. But the kindly youth, strong though he was, had a gentle manner that endeared him to everybody that came in contact with him. He had a wonderful power of narration. He kept his audiences at the country store until midnight, says one of his comrades, listening to his shrewd wisdom, native wit, and vivid recitals.

Unconsciously to himself, this simple-hearted and humble-minded young man was absorbing into his own experience the rude lore of the backwoodsman. He was studying character, filling his mind with facts and experiences; and, in after years, in other scenes and in a far busier life than this, the fresh and original pictures that he sketched in speech or story, came from the panorama of human action unrolled before him in old Kentucky and southern Indiana.