under the roof, and he was no taller than Abraham. It had “holes for windows,” in which greased paper was used instead of glass. A large fire-place, that would admit logs four feet in length, was the only cheerful object within; and the boys appeared to think so; for they piled on the fuel by the half cord, and made the biggest blaze possible.

To this pioneer school Abraham went with a glad heart. His father found an old arithmetic somewhere, in a damaged condition, and he bought it for him. His mother made him a new suit of clothes, for his old suit was much the worse for wear. It was not made of broadcloth or cassimere; but of such material as could be obtained. It consisted of a linsey-wolsey shirt, buckskin breeches, low shoes made of leather tanned in the family, and a cap of coon-skin. Overcoats were unknown.

Here Abraham became particularly interested in arithmetic and “spelling for places.” In reading and writing he was fully equal to his teacher, and also in spelling. But he never spelled in classes before for places, an exercise which the boys christened with the name, “trapping up and down.” Abraham always “trapped up,” so his contestants said. He never missed a word, and was always found at the head of his class, except when he took his place at the foot, according to the custom, to “trap up” again.

This school continued but a few weeks; and, as Abraham never had but two more opportunities to attend school, we shall devote the remainder of this chapter to the details of his experience.

Four years later—in 1823—one Andrew Crawford, who lived in Spencer County, opened a school in the same log-house in which Dorsey taught. He was much better educated than any of Abraham’s previous teachers. He was first-class for that day and place. He was a master, too, with whom boys could not trifle. He was “great on thrashin’,” one boy said.

Abraham attended this school, and became more enthusiastic than ever over his studies. He had found a more congenial teacher; and Crawford appeared to understand him thoroughly, and to know how to lead him. Teacher and pupil were never on better terms than were Crawford and Abraham. Crawford saw in the lad the foreshadowing of a great man. He had no doubt of it, and he did not hesitate to express his admiration of the boy. He said to Mr. Lincoln one day:—

“Abe is a wonderful boy—the best scholar I ever had. He’s never satisfied without knowing all about his lessons. He wants to know everything that anybody else knows, and he don’t see why he can’t.”

“That’s Abe exactly,” responded Mr. Lincoln. “He cares more for a book than anything else. I sometimes wish he liked work as much as he does a book.”

“He couldn’t like both equally well,” continued Crawford; “that’s impossible. If he liked work with all his soul, he would not be so great a scholar—he could not be such a scholar.”

“May be; but work is more necessary to backwoods life than books,” said Mr. Lincoln, who failed to look into the future as Mr. Crawford did. “Pioneers ought to know more than I do, but they needn’t know everything.”

“But Abe will not live in the backwoods all his days. Even if he should continue to live in Spencer Country, he will not be a backwoodsman long. As immigration is going on now, by the time he is thirty years old he will be out of pioneer life. But such a boy will rise above such a life. His ability and perseverance will overcome obstacles, and he will make his mark Abe is as good, too, as he is bright.”

“Yes; Abe’s a good boy,” responded his father. “We can’t expect boys will do right allers, you know; but Abe’s good to mind. His mother thinks there never was such a boy.” And this last testimony was a confirmation of what we have said of his filial love and obedience.

“I was struck with his honesty the other day,” added Mr. Crawford. “I saw that a buck’s horn that was nailed on the schoolhouse was broken off, and I concluded that some of the boys did it. So I asked