all the more marvellous. It was noised abroad, and the result was that Abraham had frequent applications from the neighbours to write letters for them. Nor was he indisposed to gratify their wishes. One of his traits of character was a generous disposition to assist others, and it prompted him to yield to their wishes in writing letters for them. Nor was it burdensome to him, but the opposite. He delighted to do it. And thus, as a consequence of his acquiring the art of penmanship, fardistant and long-absent friends of the pioneer families heard from their loved ones.

The letter brought the parson. After the lapse of about three months he came. The letter reached him in Kentucky, after considerable delay, and he embraced the first opportunity to visit his old friends. Abraham had almost concluded that his letter was lost, as the favourite minister did not come. But one day, when the lad was about two miles from home, who should he see coming but Parson Elkins, on his old bay horse! He recognized him at once, and was delighted to see him.

“Why, Abe, is that you?” exclaimed the parson. “Am I so near your home?”

“Yes, sir; did you get my letter?” Abraham thought of the memorable letter the first thing. He had good evidence before him that the letter reached its destination, but he would know certainly.

“Your letter!” exclaimed Parson Elkins, inquiringly. “I got your father’s letter.” Abraham did not stop to think that the letter went in his father’s name.

“I wrote it,” he said.

“You wrote it! Is that so?”

“Yes, sir; father can’t write, you know.”

“Oh, yes; I do remember now that he couldn’t write; and so you did it? Not many boys can write like that.”

“It was the first letter I ever wrote.”

“Better still is that—the first one? Well, you needn’t be ashamed of that.”

They were advancing towards the cabin during this conversation, Abraham running alongside the horse, and the parson looking kindly upon him.

“There’s our house!” exclaimed Abraham, as they came in sight of it. “We live there,” pointing with his finger.

“Ah! that’s a pleasant place to live. And there’s your father, I think, too.”

“Yes, that’s him. He’ll be glad to see you.”

“And I shall be glad to see him.”

By this time they came near Mr. Lincoln, who recognized Parson Elkins, and gave him a most cordial greeting. He was really taken by surprise, although he had not relinquished all expectation of the parson coming.

“You find me in a lonely condition,” said Mr. Lincoln. “Death has made a great change in my family.”

“Very great indeed,” responded Mr. Elkins. “I know how great your loss is; but ‘whom the Lord loveth, He chasteneth.”’

Assenting to this, Mr. Lincoln continued,—