EARNING THE FIRST DOLLAR.
The men got on board the steam-er, and their young boat-man lift-ed the hea-vy trunks to her deck. Steam was put on, and in an in-stant the craft would be gone. Then the youth sang out that his pas-sen-gers had not yet paid him.
Each man then took from his pock-et a sil-ver half-dol-lar and threw it on the floor of the flat-boat. Great was the sur-prise of young Lin-coln to think so much mon-ey was his for so lit-tle work. He had thought “two or three bits” would be a-bout right. The coin which came to him then, when off du-ty from his fa-ther’s toil, the youth thought might be his own. It made him feel like a man, and the world then was more bright for him.
A man who kept a store thought he would send a “car-go load,” ba-con, corn meal, and oth-er goods, down to New Or-leans in a large flat-boat. As A-bra-ham was at all times safe and sure, the own-er, Mr. Gen-try, asked him to go with his son and help a-long. They had to trade on the “su-gar-coast,” and one night sev-en black men tried to kill and rob them. Though the young sail-ors got some blows, they at last drove off the ne-groes, “cut ca-ble,” “weighed an-chor,” and left. They went past Nat-chez, an old town set-tled by the French when they took the tract which is now Lou-is-i-an-a. The hou-ses were of a strange form to the boat-men. The words they heard were in a tongue they did not know. They passed large plan-ta-tions, and saw groups of huts built for the slaves. At New Or-leans, in the old part of the town where they staid, all things were so odd that it seemed as if they were in a land be-yond the great sea. When they had left their car-go in its right place, they went back to In-di-an-a, and Mr. Gen-try thought they had done well.
A-bra-ham had more to think of when he came home. He had seen so much on his trip that the world was not quite the same to him. Scores of flat-boats were moored at lev-ees, steam-boats went and came, big ships were at an-chor in the riv-er. Men were there who sailed far o-ver the seas in search of gold, rich goods, sights of pla-ces, tribes and climes to which Lin-coln had not giv-en much thought. If oth-er men went out in-to the world, why might he not go? Why stay in this dull place and toil for naught? He had come to an age in which there was un-rest. His fa-ther’s wish was that he should push a plane and use a saw all his days. This sort of work did not suit him. Why not strike out? Then the thought came to him that his time was not yet his own. His moth-er’s words spoke to him as they did when he was a small boy at her bed-side for the last time; “Be kind to your fa-ther.”
LINCOLN’S HOME IN GENTRYVILLE.
So A-bra-ham went back to Pig-eon Creek to work and bide his time.