And there, on the soil of Indiana, Abraham Lincoln wrote his name, with a stick, in large characters, a sort of prophetic act, that students of history may love to ponder. For, since that day, he has "gone up higher," and written his name, by public acts, on the annals of every State in the Union.

The manner in which Abraham made progress in penmanship, writing on slabs and trees, on the ground and in the snow, anywhere that he could find a place, reminds us forcibly of Pascal, who demonstrated the first thirty-two propositions of Euclid in his boyhood, without the aid of a teacher. Bent upon gratifying his taste in this direction, he covered the walls of his play-room with geometrical figures, drawn with a piece of charcoal. The barndoor was sometimes his blackboard, and the ground itself often served him a good purpose, in the absence of something better.

In like manner David Wilkie, who became the renowned portrait-painter, learned to wield a black ened heather-stem with the skill of a veteran artist. In the absence of brush and pencil, he would snatch a half-burnt stick from the fire, and draw capital portraits of friends upon the nursery walls and other places. He became so absorbed in acquiring the art, that no obstacles could deter him. A piece of chalk, or a charred stick, and a board, sufficed about as well as brush and canvas.

Thus boys who are destined to become men of genius and power are wont to work their way up higher by dint of perseverance. They do what they undertake. They know no such word as fail. Success is their motto and rule of life. So it was with Abraham. Hitherto we have seen that he mastered every book put into his hand, and his subsequent career we shall find to be equally distinguished in this respect. As he acquired the art of writing with the smallest facilities, so he made all those acquisitions that will appear in subsequent pages with the poorest advantages. His pursuit of knowledge was under difficulties indeed!

66

XII.

THE LETTER AND VISITOR.

OW, Abe, you must write a letter for me to

NOW

Parson Elkins," said his father, some eight or nine months after Mrs. Lincoln died, when Abraham had become a very good penman.

"What shall I write?" he inquired.

"Write about the death of your mother. He knows nothin' about it yet; and I want to ask him to visit us, and preach a funeral sermon."

"When shall he come?"

"When he can, I s'pose. He'll take his own time for it; though I hope he 'll come soon." "Perhaps he 's dead," added Abraham. "What makes you think so?"

"He's likely to die as mother, ain't he? and he may be dead when we don't know it, the same as she's dead when he don't know it."

"Well, there's somethin' in that," answered his father, smiling at the aforesaid reason. "Come, now, there's some paper all ready for it, and I'll tell you what to write."

Abraham made ready to pen the letter, and his

father proceeded to dictate the same. He directed him to write about the death of Mrs. Lincoln, when it occurred, and under what circumstances, and to invite him to visit them, and preach a funeral sermon. He also gave a description of their new home, and their journey thither, and wrote of their future prospects. Nor did he fail to mention that he had not regretted for a moment the exchange he made of a Slave State for a Free State.

"Now read it over," said Mr. Lincoln.

"The whole of it?"

"Of course; I want to hear it all. I may think of somethin' else by that time."

Abraham commenced to read it, while his father sat the very picture of satisfaction. There was genuine happiness to him in having his son prepared to write a letter. Never before had there been a member of his family who could perform this feat. It was a memorable event to him.

"See how much it is wuth to be able to write," said he, as Abraham finished reading the letter. "It's wuth ten times as much as it cost to be able to write only that one letter."

"It ain't much work to learn to write," said Abraham; "I'd work as hard again for it before I'd give it up."

"You'd have to give it up, if you was knocked about as I was when a boy."

"I know that."