The produce of his farm was chiefly corn, though a little wheat was raised for a change of diet. Doubtless there were enough of the staple vegetables which grow easily in that country. Butcher shops were not needed, owing to the abundance of wild game.
The principal portion of the life of the average boy concerns his schooling. As nearly as can be determined the aggregate of young Lincoln's schooling was about one year, and this was divided between five teachers—an average of less than three months to each—and spread out over as many years. The branches taught were "readin', writin', and cipherin' to the rule of three." Any young man who happened along with a fair knowledge of the three great R's—"Readin', 'Ritin', and' Rithmetic"—was thought fit to set up a school, taking his small pay in cash and boarding around—that is, spending one day or more at a time as the guest of each of his patrons.
There was nothing of special interest in any of these teachers, but their names are preserved simply because the fact that they did teach him is a matter of great interest. The first teacher was Zachariah Riney, a Roman Catholic, from whose schoolroom the Protestants were excluded, or excused, during the opening exercises. Then came Caleb Hazel. These were in Kentucky, and therefore their instruction of Lincoln must have come to an end by the time he was seven years old. When ten years old he studied under one Dorsey, when about fourteen under Crawford, and when sixteen under Swaney.
It can hardly be doubted that his mother's instruction was of more worth than all these put together. A woman who, under such limitations, had energy enough to teach her husband to read and write, was a rare character, and her influence could not be other than invaluable to the bright boy. Charles Lamb classified all literature in two divisions: "Books that are not books, and books that are books." It is important that every boy learn to read. But a far more important question is, What use does he make of his ability to read? Does he read "books that are books?" Let us now see what use Lincoln made of his knowledge of reading.
In those days books were rare and his library was small and select. It consisted at first of three volumes: The Bible, Aesop's Fables and Pilgrim's Progress. Some-time in the eighties a prominent magazine published a series of articles written by men of eminence in the various walks of life, under the title of "Books that have helped me." The most noticeable fact was that each of these eminent men—men who had read hundreds of books—specified not more than three or four books. Lincoln's first list was of three. They were emphatically books. Day after day he read, pondered and inwardly digested them until they were his own. Better books he could not have found in all the universities of Europe, and we begin to understand where he got his moral vision, his precision of English style, and his shrewd humor.
Later he borrowed from a neighbor, Josiah Crawford, a copy of Weems' Life of Washington. In lieu of a bookcase he tucked this, one night, into the chinking of the cabin. A rain-storm came up and soaked the book through and through. By morning it presented a sorry appearance. The damage was done and could not be repaired. Crestfallen the lad carried it back to the owner and, having no money, offered to pay for the mischief in work. Crawford agreed and named seventy-five cents (in labor) as a fair sum.
"Does this pay for the book," the borrower asked, "or only for the damage to the book?" Crawford reckoned that the book "wa'n't of much account to him nor to any one else." So Lincoln cheerfully did the work—it was for three days—and owned the book.
Later he had a life of Henry Clay, whom he nearly idolized. His one poet was Burns, whom he knew by heart "from a to izzard." Throughout his life he ranked Burns next to Shakespeare.
The hymns which he most loved must have had influence not only on his religious spirit, but also on his literary taste. Those which are mentioned are, "Am I a soldier of the cross?" "How tedious and tasteless the hours," "There is a fountain filled with blood," and "Alas, and did my Saviour bleed?" Good hymns every one of them, in that day, or in any day.
Having no slate he did his "sums" in the sand on the ground, or on a wooden shovel which, after it was covered on both sides, he scraped down so as to erase the work. A note-book is preserved, containing, along with examples in arithmetic, this boyish doggerel: