The new moth-er was a kind wom-an, and at once took the sad boy to her heart. All his life from that time, he gave praise to this friend in need.
A chance came then for a brief time at school, and this was “made the most of.” Folks said the boy “grew like a weed.” When he was twelve it was said one “could al-most see him grow.” At half a score and five years old he was six feet and four in-ches high. He was well, strong, and kind. He had to work hard. He did most of the work his fa-ther should have done. But in the midst of it all he found time to read. He kept a scrap-book, too, and put in it verse, prose, bits from his-to-ry, “sums,” and all print and writ-ing he wished to keep. At night he would lie flat on the floor and read and “fig-ure” by fire light.
One day some one told A-bra-ham that Mr. Craw-ford, a man whose home was miles off, had a book he ought to read. This was a great book in those days. It was Weems’ “Life of Wash-ing-ton.” The youth set off through the woods to ask the loan of it. He got the book and read it with joy. At night he put it in what he thought was a safe place be-tween the logs, but rain came in and wet it, so he went straight to Craw-ford, told the tale, and worked three days at “pull-ing fod-der” to pay for the harm which had come to the book.
THE YOUNG RAIL-SPLITTER.
It was the way in those times in that place for a youth to work till he was a score and one years old for his fa-ther. This young Lin-coln did, work-ing out where he would build fires, chop wood, “tote” wa-ter, tend ba-bies, do all sorts of chores, mow, reap, sow, plough, split rails, and then give what he earned to his fa-ther.
Though work filled the days, much of the nights were giv-en to books. In rough garb, deer skin shoes, with a blaze of pine knots on the hearth, A-bra-ham read, read, fill-ing his mind with things that were a help to him all his life. He knew how to talk and tell tales, and folks liked to hear him. He led in all out of door sports. He was kind to those not so strong as he was. All were his friends.
The first mon-ey that he thought he might call his own he earned with a boat he had made. It seems that one day as he stood look-ing at it and think-ing if he could do an-y thing to im-prove it, two men drove down to the shore with trunks. They took a glance at some boats they found there, chose Lin-coln’s boat, and asked him if he would take men and trunks out to the steam-er. He said he would. So he got the trunks on the flat-boat, the men sat down on them, and he sculled out to the steam-er.
