knew. We doubt if she had ever found a man or boy, not excepting her own husband and son, who was so “wonderful” as to “chore about” as Abraham did, without protesting. He was in the truest sense a “man-of-all-work” at Taylor’s, doing whatsoever his hands found to do with all his might.

Here Abraham found the history of the United States, and two or three other volumes, that engrossed his attention at night. He slept upstairs with Green Taylor, son of his employer, a young man older than himself, without any of his brightness or ambition; and there he often extended his reading far into the night, much to the annoyance of his bedfellow.

“Blow out that light and come to bed, Abe,” he exclaimed more than once. “I’ll be bound if you shall spile my sleep for a book.”

“Let me read you a page or two,” Abraham provokingly, though jocosely, answered. “A snooze is of no account in comparison with the History of the United States.” And he continued to read until interrupted by another appeal out of the bedclothes.

“Abe, I say, if you don’t come to bed I’ll get up and blow your light out.”

“Will? Well, I would if I was in your place. Perhaps you can blow it out without getting up. Try it; there is a good amount of blow in you.”

The fretted sleeper could get no satisfaction in appealing to the midnight reader. A good-natured humorous reply was all Abraham would yield to him. Once Green Taylor struck the “hired boy” in an angry mood, but Abraham did not strike back again. He was indignant enough to do it; but, being a greater warrior than he who taketh a city, he controlled his own spirit, and continued to read on. Years afterwards Green Taylor lived to rehearse his experience with Abraham, and tell what a marvellous boy he was.

“Why, he would work hard all day, read till midnight, and then get up before anybody in the morning. I never saw such a fellow. He was like Abe Lincoln and nobody else.” Referring to his act of striking him, he said, “Abe was mad, but he didn’t thrash me.” The language implies that Abraham could easily have avenged himself by whipping the offender, but that he forbore—his better judgment and nature controlling instead of passion.

At Taylor’s Abraham tried his hand at hog-killing for the first time. He had assisted many times in the slaughtering of hogs, but never before had played the part of butcher.

“You can try it, Abe,” said Mr. Taylor, who saw that the boy could do anything he would undertake. “What do you say?”

“Just as you say,” answered Abraham; “if you’ll risk the hogs I’ll risk myself.” Mr. Taylor, laughing at this reply, responded,—

“I’ll take the risk; so you may go ahead.”

In this way Abraham became a butcher, and soon grew so expert in the rough business that farmers employed him. He slaughtered hogs for John Dathan, Stephen McDaniels, John Woods, and others; and Mr. Taylor received thirty-one cents a day for the boy’s services in this line. He did the business well, and for that reason his labours were demanded for hog-killing.

Ferryman, farmer, hostler, house-servant, butcher—all for one man, and all well done. Mr. Taylor unwittingly paid him a high compliment when he remarked to a neighbour, “Abe will do one thing about as well as another.” Perhaps he did not know the reason, which was, plainly, that thoroughness was a rule with him. Whatever he did, he did as well as he could.