Do I know it for a fact, sir? ’Tis no story that I’ve read—
I was but a boy in war time, and I carried him the thread.
Sophie E. Eastman.
THE YOUNG PATRIOT, ABRAHAM LINCOLN.
One Fourth of July, when Abraham Lincoln was a boy, he heard an oration by old ’Squire Godfrey. As in the olden days, the ’Squire’s oration was full of Washington; inspiring in the heart of young Lincoln an enthusiasm that sent him home burning with a desire to know more of the great man who heretofore had seemed more of a dream than a reality. Learning that a man some six miles up the creek owned a copy of Washington’s life, Abraham did not rest that night until he had footed the whole distance and begged the loan of the book.
“Sartin, sartin,” said the owner. “The book is fairly well worn, but no leaves are missin’, and a lad keen enough to read as to walk six miles to get a book, ought to be encouraged.”
It was a much-worn copy of Weem’s “Life of Washington,” and Abe, thanking the stranger for his kindness, walked back under the stars, stopping every little while to catch a glimpse of the features of the “Father of his Country” as shown in the frontispiece.
After reaching home, tired as he was, he could not close his eyes until, by the light of a pine knot, he had found out all that was recorded regarding the boyhood of the man who had so suddenly sprung into prominence in his mind. In that busy harvest season he had no time to read or study during the day, but every night, long after the other members of the family were sleeping peacefully, Abe lay, stretched upon the floor with his book on the hearth, reading, reading, reading, the pine knot in the fireplace furnishing all the light he needed, the fire within burning with such intense heat as to kindle a blaze that grew and increased until it placed him in the highest seat of his countrymen.