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 got some bad news for you,” answered Abe, with lengthened face.
“Bad news! What is it?”
“You know the book you lent me--the ‘Life of Washington’?”
“Yes, yes.”
“Well, the rain last night spoiled it,” and Abe showed the book, wet to
a pulp inside, at the same time explaining how it had been injured.
“It’s too bad, I vum! You’d ought to pay for it, Abe. You must have been
dreadful careless.”
“I’d pay for it if I had any money, Mr. Crawford.”
“If you’ve got no money, you can work it out,” said Crawford.
“I’ll do whatever you think right.”
So it was arranged that Abe should work three days for Crawford,
“pulling fodder,” the value of his labor being rated at twenty-five
cents a day. As the book had cost seventy-five cents this would be
regarded as satisfactory. So Abe worked his three days, and discharged
the debt. Mr. Lamon is disposed to find fault with Crawford for exacting
this penalty, but it appears to me only equitable, and I am glad to
think that Abe was willing to act honorably in the matter.