The Backwoods Boy. Horatio Alger Jr.
to the sort of work he did, his father found work for him on the land which he had under cultivation. Then the “chores” which boys in such households are always called upon to do, in his case exacted more time on account of the lack of average accommodations. For instance, the water had to be brought from a spring a mile away, and Abe and his sister were employed to fetch it. There was no water to be had nearer, except what was collected in holes in the ground after a rain, and this was necessarily unfit for drinking, or, indeed, any other purpose unless strained. But Abe is not to be pitied for the hardships of his lot. That is the way strong men are made.
CHAPTER IV
ABE’S SCHOOLING
“Spell defied!”
This question was put a class in spelling by the master.
The first pupil in the straggling line of backwoods boys and girls who stood up in class, answered with some hesitation: “D-e-f-i-d-e, defied.”
The master frowned.
“Next!” he called sharply.
The next improved upon the effort of the first speller, and in a confident tone answered.
“D-e-f-y-d-e.”
“Wrong again! The next may try it,” said the teacher.
“D-e-f-y-d!” said the third scholar.
“Worse and worse! You are entitled to a medal!” said Crawford, sarcastically. “Next!”
“D-e-f-y-e-d!” was the next attempt.
“Really, you do me great credit,” said the teacher, a frown gathering on his brow. “You can’t spell an easy word of two syllables. It is shameful. I’ll keep the whole class in all the rest of the day, if necessary, till the word is spelled correctly.”
It now became the turn of a young girl named Roby, who was a favorite with Abe. She was a pretty girl, but, nevertheless, the terrible word puzzled her. In her perplexity she chanced to turn toward the seat at the window occupied by her long-legged friend, Abe.
Abe was perhaps the best speller in school. A word like defied was easy enough to him, and he wanted to help the girl through.
As Miss Roby looked at him she saw a smile upon his face, as he significantly touched his eye with his finger. The girl took the hint, and spelled the word correctly.
“Right at last!” said Master Crawford, whose back was turned, and who had not seen Abe’s dumb show. “It’s lucky for you all that one of the class knew how to spell, or I would have kept my word, and kept you all in.”
Though Master Crawford’s school had a department of manners, there was no department of English composition. Abe took this up on his own account, according to his schoolmate Nat Grigsby, and probably the teacher consented to examine his essays, though he did not require them of his other pupils. Considering the kindness of heart which he afterward exhibited on many occasions, my readers will not be surprised to hear that his first composition was against cruelty to animals. This is said to have been called forth by the conduct of some of his fellow-pupils in catching terrapins and putting coals of fire on their backs.
After a time Master Crawford’s school was discontinued, and some two or three years later Abe attended another, kept by a Mr. Swaney. It gives us an idea of the boy’s earnest desire to obtain an education, when we learn that he had to walk four and a half miles to it from his father’s house, and this walk had to be repeated, of course, in the afternoon. How many of my young readers would care sufficiently for an education to walk nine miles a day, to and from school?
We are told that the new school-house was no more impressive, architecturally, than the first, already described. In fact, it was very similar, though it had two chimneys instead of one. The course of instruction does not seem to have been any higher than at Mr. Crawford’s school. The department of “manners” was omitted, though it is doubtful whether many of the pupils could have appeared to advantage in a city ball-room.
Probably Abe did not attend Mr. Swaney’s school many weeks, and this, we are told, was the end of his school attendance anywhere. He had, however, in that short time imbibed a love of learning, which is to be credited rather to his own tastes than to the influence of his teachers, and carried on by himself the studies of which he had learned something in the humble backwoods school. We are told that he was already the equal of his teachers in learning, which probably was not saying much. Nevertheless he did not regard his education as finished. He had his books, and kept on studying at home, or wherever he was employed. In the hard work which fell to his lot he did not take much interest. He knew that it was necessary, but he did not enjoy it. He preferred to labor with his brain rather than with his hands, and often seemed so listless and preoccupied that he got the reputation of being “awful lazy.”
This is what his neighbor, Romine, says of him: “He worked for me; was always reading and thinking; used to get mad at him. I say, Abe was awful lazy; he would laugh, and talk, and crack jokes and tell stories all the time; didn’t love work, but did dearly love his pay. He worked for me frequently, a few days only at a time… Lincoln said to me one day, that his father taught him to work, but never learned him to love it.”
All the information we can obtain about this early time is interesting, for it was then that Abe was laying the foundation of his future eminence. His mind and character were slowly developing, and shaping themselves for the future.
From Mr. Lamon’s Life I quote a paragraph which will throw light upon his habits and tastes at the age of seventeen:
“Abe loved to lie under a shade-tree, or up in the loft of the cabin, and read, cipher, and scribble. At night he sat by the chimney ‘jamb,’ and ciphered by the light of the fire, on the wooden fire-shovel. When the shovel was fairly covered, he would shave it off with Tom Lincoln’s drawing-knife, and begin again. In the day-time he used boards for the same purpose, out of doors, and went through the shaving process everlastingly. His step-mother repeats often that ‘he read every book he could lay his hands on.’ She says, ‘Abe read diligently. He read every book he could lay his hands on, and when he came across a passage that struck him, he would write it down on boards if he had no paper, and keep it there until he did get paper. Then he would rewrite it, look at it, repeat it. He had a copy-book, a kind of scrap-book, in which he put down all things, and thus preserved them.’ ”
I am tempted also to quote a reminiscence of John Hanks, who lived with the Lincolns from the time Abe was fourteen to the time he became eighteen years of age: “When Lincoln – Abe – and I returned to the house from work, he would go to the cupboard, snatch a piece of corn-bread, take down a book, sit down on a chair, cock his legs up as high as his head, and read. He and I worked barefooted, grubbed it, ploughed, mowed, and cradled together; ploughed corn, gathered it, and shucked corn. Abraham read constantly when he had opportunity.”
It may well be supposed, however, that the books upon which Abe could lay hands were few in number. There were no libraries, either public or private, in the neighborhood, and he was obliged to read what he could get rather than those which he would have chosen, had he been able to select from a large collection. Still, it is a matter of interest to know what books he actually did read at this formative period. Some of them certainly were worth reading, such as “Æsop’s Fables,” “Robinson Crusoe,” “Pilgrim’s Progress,” a History of the United States, and Weem’s “Life of Washington.” The last book Abe borrowed from a neighbor, old Josiah Crawford, (I follow the statement of Mr. Lamon, rather than of Dr. Holland, who says it was Master Crawford, his teacher). When not reading it, he laid it away in a part of the cabin where he thought it would be free from harm, but it so happened that just behind the shelf on which he placed it was a great crack between the logs of the wall. One night a storm came up suddenly, the rain beat in through the crevice, and soaked the borrowed book through and through. The book was almost utterly spoiled. Abe felt very uneasy, for a book was valuable in his eyes, as well as in the eyes of its owner.
He took the damaged volume and trudged over to Mr. Crawford’s in some perplexity and mortification.
“Well, Abe, what brings you over so early?” said Mr. Crawford.
“I’ve