The Campaign of Calumny-The Reconstruction Proclamation-Traps which Captured Nothing-Skirmishing Diplomacy-The Blunders of the Opposition- The Rebellion Bleeding to Death-Half a Million More-The Results of the Election-Sherman's March to the Sea-The Last Great Battle in the West- Putting Emancipation into the Constitution-Sherman in South Carolina- The Peace Conference in Hampton Roads-Useless Bloodshed-The Second In- A Proclamation of Pardon-Going to the Army-The Death-Struggle of the Rebellion-Hemmed in by the Hunters-The President in Richmond-Surrend- A'Rejoicing People-Vanity and Revenge conspire to Commit Murder-The Assassination-The Mourning of a Mighty Multitude-Voices from Distant ABRAHAM LINCOLN. CHAPTER I. A CHAOTIC BEGINNING. The Birthplace-The Family-The Homestead-1809 to 1816. "THAT's the place, Abe. You was born thar." ""Tain't much of a place to be born in. It's a heap meaner'n the place we're a-livin' in now." A man of little over the middle height, broad-shouldered, powerfully built, and somewhat rough-looking, leaned upon a -long rifle and gazed at a forlorn log-house, not far from the roadside, in a wretched, ill-tended corn-field. At his side was a slim, overgrown boy of seven years, who might easily have passed for three years older. The growth which had come to him so fast was indicated not only by his size, but by the queer, thoughtful expression of his strongly marked, sunburned face. It was full of boyish fun, to recklessness; and yet it wore an unchildlike sadness also, as if the kind of human life into which he had been born were already teaching him its les sons and leaving upon him its forever indelible marks. "They call it Rock Spring Farm," remarked his father. "Do they? Wall, I remember the spring well enough, and the rocks too; but, pop, whar's the farm?" "All around, hereaway. It was the first piece of land I ever owned, sech as it was. I didn't own it very much, nuther." He did not look like a man who had ever owned much of land or of anything else. He was barefooted, and his patched homespun trowsers barely reached his ankles: but that was more than could be said of Abe's. On his head, too, was a coonskin cap, while his odd-looking son wore nothing above his uncombed shock of dark hair. A greasy buckskin shirt completed the outer garments of Tom Lincoln, with a powderhorn and bullet-pouch slung over his shoulders in lieu of all ornament. His leathern waist-belt marked yet one more difference in the apparel of the two, as Abe's left shoulder was crossed by the one suspender with which his trowsers were tied up, and it met no buttons at its lower ends. 'Pop, do you reckon you'll find anything meaner'n that over in Injianny?" "I'll tell ye when I git back. We'd best be movin' now. I want to git out of Kaintucky; I jest do." "Wall, pop, I don't know as I keer much whar we go to." Tom strode away down the road, but it was marvelous how easily the light-footed youngster kept up with him. Mile after mile they went on together, along roads which were only here and there bordered by anything which would nowadays be considered cultivation. The State of Kentucky was a very young one in the fall of the year 1816, and was barely beginning to work its way out of the backwoods into the long, toilsome path towards civilization. Still, if Abe Lincoln and his father had been on the lookout for a poorer piece of "improvement" than "Rock Spring Farm," they would probably have failed to find it during that day's walking. A poor place indeed, both land and dwelling. There Abraham Lincoln was born, on the 12th day of February, 1809. He spent there the first four years of his life, and it was such life as was possible in such a hut as he had now been taken back to look at. Its hardening, narrowing, stunting conditions, creating barriers and fetters to be afterwards burst or broken, are worth a careful recognition and study. The end of Abe's tramp gave him a chance to compare with the place of his birth the cabin he was now at home in. It was just a trifle better, and the land around presented less of an ap pearance of utter poverty. He laughed a little when he saw it, not knowing, yet, how much to make any human being somber-faced there was in a prospect of being shut up to the necessity of spending his days in such a home as that. A dark-featured, handsome, but sad-faced woman, of middle height, stood in the doorway of the log-cabin as her husband and son drew near. "Now, Tom, you haven't fetched home any game this time." "Wall, no, Nancy. Abe and I kinder wandered off to Hodgensville, and I met some of the fellers, and we had a talk, and then we took a circuit round and looked at the old place. It's wuss'n it ever was, Nancy." "Meanest kind," grumbled Abe; but his mother looked sadder than before, and his father went on: "Then we struck for home. I reckon I'll take water tomorrer. You never seen a deader place'n town is, jest now. Nothin' doin'. No kind of fun. No chances. I'm gwine to quit Kaintuck, Nancy; I'm set on that." "I don't keer whar we go. We can't make a poorer out than we've made yer.' Not without an effort. It needed but a glance at the surroundings of the homestead to perceive the justice of Nancy's despairing criticism. The hands of lazy improvidence and of the poverty that comes with it had fallen upon and withered everything but the weeds. There were a few acres of plowed ground between the house and the forest. A crop of corn had been harvested from the patch, but such fall plowing as had followed had been done by the noses of the hogs and not by human labor. It was a place to move away from, surely; but the people who had made it what it was were likely to carry with them all its real disadvantages. Nancy turned wearily into the house, and Tom did not follow her. He walked away upon another errand, and Abe went with him. Half a mile, not at all hurried, brought them to the bank of a good stream of water. A rude flatboat lay moored against the shore, and Tom looked at it with pride in his eyes as he said, "I made her myself, I did." She looked like the work of some such man. A good enough craft in which to float down stream; but no sensible navigator would have undertaken to urge her blunt nose and ill-balanced bulk in any other direction. Still, she could carry weight, and had a cargo already on board. There were a dozen or so of barrels, and these, with some boxes and bags and other matters, were stowed unevenly around, in such a way as to render the clumsy craft yet more unmanageable. "Pop," said Abe, "do you reckon you'll ever git her back?" "Wal, no. That ain't what she's made for. Reckon I'll make enough outen the trip to start us in Injianny." The flatboat was looked at and admired, and the father and son went home to the slender supper of milk and corn-bread provided for them by Nancy, Tom but dimly knew how. The evening was consumed in varying calculations of the sure profits of the voyage of the flatboat and the sale of her cargo. About all the comment his wife could muster courage to make was, "Hope ye will. You've traded yer last hog for it, and "ty much everything else thar was left." new s I am. w don't you be skeered, Nancy. I'm bound to make a Abe and Sally mought as well keep on gwine to school whilst I'm gone. Reckon they won't light onto any schoolin' around in the woods arter we git squatted over into Injianny." The one fact which came out more plainly than any other was that, come what might of the trading expedition and the cargo of the flatboat, Tom Lincoln had made an end of his prospects in Kentucky, and that a new start somewhere else had now become a financial necessity. |