would be gone for several weeks. People miles from New Salem knew who
Abe Lincoln was. They laughed at him because he was so tall and awkward.
They thought it funny that his trousers were always too short. But they
also laughed at his jokes, and they liked him. He made so many new
friends that he decided to be a candidate for the Illinois legislature.
One day during the campaign he had a long talk with Major John T.
Stuart. Major Stuart had been Abe's commander in the Black Hawk War. He
was now a lawyer in Springfield, a larger town twenty miles away.
"Why don't you study law?" he asked.
Abe pursed his lips. "I'd sure like to," he drawled; then added with a
grin: "But I don't know if I have enough sense."
Major Stuart paid no attention to this last remark. "You have been
reading law for pleasure," he went on. "Now go at it in earnest. I'll
lend you the books you need."
This was a chance that Abe could not afford to miss. Every few days he
walked or rode on horseback to Springfield to borrow another volume.
Sometimes he read forty pages on the way home. He was twenty-five years
old, and there was no time to waste.
Meanwhile he was making many speeches. He asked the voters in his part
of Illinois to elect him to the legislature which made the laws for the
state. They felt that "Honest Abe" was a man to be trusted and he was
elected.
Late in November Abe boarded the stagecoach for the ride to Vandalia,
then the capital of the state. He looked very dignified in a new suit
and high plug hat. In the crowd that gathered to tell him good-by, he
could see many of his friends. There stood Coleman Smoot who had lent
him money to buy his new clothes. Farther back he could see Mr. Rutledge
and Ann, Hannah and Jack Armstrong, Mentor Graham, and others who had
encouraged and helped him. And now he was on his way to represent them
in the legislature. There was a chorus of "Good-by, Abe."
Then, like an echo, the words came again in Ann's high, sweet voice:
"Good-by, Abe!" He leaned far out the window and waved.
He was thinking of Ann as the coach rolled over the rough road. He was
thinking also of Sarah. If only she could see him now, he thought, as he
glanced at the new hat resting on his knee.
[Illustration]
14
[Illustration]
The Legislature met for several weeks at a time. Between sessions, Abe
worked at various jobs in New Salem and read his law books. Most of his
studying was done early in the morning and late at night. He still found
time to see a great deal of Ann Rutledge, and something of her gentle
sweetness was to live on forever in his heart. After Ann died, he tried
to forget his grief by studying harder than ever.
The year that he was twenty-eight he took his examination, and was
granted a lawyer's license. He decided to move to Springfield, which had
recently been made the capital of the state.
It was a cold March day when he rode into this thriving little town. He
hitched his horse to the hitching rack in the public square and entered
one of the stores. Joshua Speed, the owner, a young man about Abe's age,
looked up with a friendly smile.
"Howdy, Abe," he said. "So you are going to be one of us?"
"I reckon so," Abe answered. "Say, Speed, I just bought myself a
bedstead. How much would it cost me for a mattress and some pillows and
blankets?"
Joshua took a pencil from behind his ear. He did some figuring on a
piece of paper. "I can fix you up for about seventeen dollars."
Abe felt the money in his pocket. He had only seven dollars. His horse
was borrowed, and he was still a thousand dollars in debt. Joshua saw
that he was disappointed. He had heard Abe make speeches, and Abe was
called one of the most promising young men in the legislature. Joshua
liked him and wanted to know him better.
"Why don't you stay with me, until you can do better?" he suggested. "I
have a room over the store and a bed big enough for two."
A grin broke over Abe's homely features. "Good!" he said. "Where is it?"
"You'll find some stairs over there behind that pile of barrels. Go on
up and make yourself at home."
Abe enjoyed living with Joshua Speed, and he enjoyed living in
Springfield. He soon became as popular as he had once been in Pigeon
Creek and in New Salem. As the months and years went by, more and more
people came to him whenever they needed a lawyer to advise them. For a
long time he was poor, but little by little he paid off his debts. With
his first big fee he bought a quarter section of land for his stepmother
who had been so good to him.
The part of his work that Abe liked best was "riding the circuit." In
the spring and again in the fall, he saddled Old Buck, his horse, and
set out with a judge and several other lawyers to visit some of the
towns close by. These towns "on the circuit" were too small to have law
courts of their own. In each town the lawyers argued the cases and the
judge settled the disputes that had come up during the past six months.
After supper they liked to gather at the inn to listen to Abe tell funny
stories. "I laughed until I shook my ribs loose," said one dignified
judge.
The other lawyers often teased Abe. "You ought to charge your clients
more money," they said, "or you will always be as poor as Job's turkey."
One evening they held a mock trial. Abe was accused of charging such
small fees that the other lawyers could not charge as much as they
should. The judge looked as solemn as he did at a real trial.
"You are guilty of an awful crime against the pockets of your brother
lawyers," he said severely. "I hereby sentence you to pay a fine."
There was a shout of laughter. "I'll pay the fine," said Abe
good-naturedly. "But my own firm is never going to be known as Catchem &
Cheatem."
Meanwhile a young lady named Mary Todd had come to Springfield to live.
Her father was a rich and important man in Kentucky. Mary was pretty and
well educated. Abe was a little afraid of her, but one night at a party
he screwed up his courage to ask her for a dance.
[Illustration]
"Miss Todd," he said, "I would like to dance with you the worst way."
As he swept her around the dance floor, he bumped into other couples. He
stepped on her toes. "Mr. Lincoln," said Mary, as she limped over to a
chair, "you did dance with me the worst way--the very worst."
She did not mind that he was not a good dancer. As she looked up into
Abe's homely face, she decided that he had a great future ahead of him.
She remembered something she had once said as a little girl: "When I
grow up, I want to marry a man who will be President of the United
States."
Abe was not the only one who liked Mary Todd. Among the other young men
who came to see her was another lawyer, Stephen A. Douglas. He was no
taller than Mary herself, but he had such a large head and shoulders
that he had been nicknamed "the Little Giant." He was handsome, and
rich, and brilliant. His friends thought that he might be President some
day.
"No," said Mary, "Abe Lincoln has the better chance to succeed."
Anyway, Abe was the man she loved. The next year they were married.
"I mean to make him President of the United States," she wrote to a
friend in Kentucky. "You will see that, as I always told you, I will yet
be the President's wife."
At first Mary thought that her dream was coming true. In 1846 Abe was
elected a member of the United States Congress in Washington. He had
made a good start as a political leader, and she was disappointed when
he did not run for a second term. Back he came to Springfield to
practice law again. By 1854 there were three lively boys romping through
the rooms of the comfortable white house that he had bought for his
family. Robert was eleven, Willie was four, and Tad was still a baby.
The neighbors used to smile to see Lawyer Lincoln walking down the
street carrying Tad on his shoulders, while Willie clung to his
coattails. The boys adored their father.
Mary did, too, but she wished that Abe would be more dignified. He sat
reading in his shirt sleeves, and he got down on the floor to play with
the boys. His wife did not think that was any way for a successful
lawyer to act. It also worried her that he was no longer interested in
politics.
And then something happened that neither Mary nor Abe had ever expected.
Their old friend, Stephen A. Douglas, who was now a Senator in
Washington, suggested a new law. Thousands of settlers were going West
to live, and in time they would form new states. The new law would make
it possible for the people in each new state to own slaves, if most of
the voters wanted to.
Abraham Lincoln was so aroused and indignant that he almost forgot his
law practice. He traveled around Illinois making speeches. There were no
laws against having slaves in the South, but slavery must be kept out of
territory that was still free, he said. The new states should be places
"for poor people to go to better their condition." Not only that, but it
was wrong for one man to own another. Terribly wrong.
"If the Negro is a man," he told one audience, "then my ancient faith
teaches me that all men are created equal."
Perhaps he was thinking of the first time he had visited a slave market.
He was remembering the words in the Declaration of Independence that had
thrilled him as a boy.
Two years later Abraham Lincoln was asked to be a candidate for the
United States Senate. He would be running against Douglas. Abe wanted
very much to be a Senator. Even more he wanted to keep slavery out of
the new states. Taking part in the political campaign would give him a
chance to say the things that he felt so deeply.
"I am convinced I am good enough for it," he told a friend, "but in
spite of it all I am saying to myself every day, 'It is too big a thing
for you; you will never get it.' Mary insists, however, that I am going
to be Senator and President of the United States, too."
Perhaps it was his wife's faith in him that gave him the courage to
try. Never was there a more exciting campaign. Never had the people of
Illinois been so stirred as during that hot summer of 1858. A series of
debates was held in seven different towns. The two candidates--Douglas,
"the little Giant," and "Old Abe, the Giant Killer," as his friends
called him--argued about slavery. People came from miles around to hear
them.
On the day of a debate, an open platform for the speakers was decorated
with red-white-and-blue bunting. Flags flew from the housetops. When
Senator Douglas arrived at the railroad station, his friends and
admirers met him with a brass band. He drove to his hotel in a fine
carriage.
Abe had admirers, too. Sometimes a long procession met him at the
station. Then Abe would be embarrassed. He did not like what he called
"fizzlegigs and fireworks." But he laughed when his friends in one town
drove him to his hotel in a hay wagon. This was their way of making fun
of Douglas and his fine manners.
Senator Douglas was an eloquent orator. While he was talking, some of
Abe's friends would worry. Would Old Abe be able to answer? Would he be
able to hold his own? Then Abe would unfold his long legs and stand up.
"The Giant Killer" towered so high above "the Little Giant" that a
titter ran through the crowd.
When he came to the serious part of his speech, there was silence. His
voice reached to the farthest corners of the crowd, as he reminded them
what slavery really meant. He summed it up in a few words: "You work and
toil and earn bread, and I'll eat it."
Both men worked hard to be elected. And Douglas won. "I feel like the
boy," said Abe, "who stubbed his toe. It hurts too bad to laugh, and I
am too big to cry."
All of those who loved him--Mary, his wife, in her neat white house;
Sarah, his stepmother, in her little cabin, more than a hundred miles
away; and his many friends--were disappointed. But not for long. The
part he took in the Lincoln-Douglas debates made his name known
throughout the United States.
Abe Lincoln's chance was coming.
15
[Illustration]
During the next two years Abraham Lincoln was asked to make many
speeches. "Let us have faith that right makes might," he told one
audience in New York, "and in that faith let us, to the end, dare to do
our duty as we understand it."
At the end of the speech, several thousand people rose to their feet,
cheering and waving their handkerchiefs. His words were printed in
newspapers. Throughout the Northern States, men and women began to think
of him as the friend of freedom.
By 1860 he was so well known that he was nominated for President of the
United States. Stephen A. Douglas was nominated by another political
party. Once more the two rivals were running for the same office.
Several thousands of Abraham Lincoln's admirers called themselves "Wide
Awakes." There were Wide Awake Clubs in near every Northern town. Night
after night they marched in parades, carrying flaming torches and
colored lanterns. And as they marched, they sang:
"Hurrah! for our cause--of all causes the best!
Hurrah! for Old Abe, Honest Abe of the West."
No one enjoyed the campaign excitement more than did Willie and Tad
Lincoln. They did their marching around the parlor carpet, singing
another song:
"Old Abe Lincoln came out of the wilderness,
Out of the wilderness, out of the wilderness,
Old Abe Lincoln came out of the wilderness,
Down in Illinois."
People everywhere were talking about Old Abe, and he received a great
deal of mail. Some of the letters came from Pigeon Creek. Nat Grigsby,
his old schoolmate, wrote that his Indiana friends were thinking of him.
Dave Turnham wrote. It was in Dave's book that Abe had first read the
Declaration of Independence. A package arrived from Josiah Crawford who
had given him his _Life of Washington_. The package contained a piece of
white oak wood. It was part of a rail that Abe had split when he was
sixteen years old. Josiah thought that he might like to have it made
into a cane.
Hundreds of other letters came from people he had never seen. One from
New York state made him smile.
"I am a little girl only eleven years old," the letter read, "but want
you should be President of the United States very much so I hope you
won't think me very bold to write to such a great man as you are.... I
have got four brothers and part of them will vote for you anyway and if
you will let your whiskers grow I will try to get the rest of them to
vote for you. You would look a great deal better for your face is so
thin. All the ladies like whiskers and they would tease their husbands
to vote for you and then you would be President...."
The letter was signed "Grace Bedell." In less than two weeks she
received an answer. Abraham Lincoln, who loved children, took her
advice. By election day on November 6, 1860, he had started to grow a
beard.
He spent the evening of election day in the telegraph office. Report
after report came in from different parts of the country. He was
gaining. He was winning. After a while he knew--his friends knew--all
Springfield knew--that Abraham Lincoln was to be the next President of
the United States. Outside in the streets the crowds were celebrating.
They were singing, shouting, shooting off cannons. Abe told his friends
that he was "well-nigh upset with joy."
"I guess I'd better go home now," he added. "There is a little woman
there who would like to hear the news."
Mary was asleep when he entered their bedroom. Her husband touched her
on the shoulder. "Mary, Mary," he said with a low chuckle, "we are
elected."
By February the Lincolns were ready to move. Abe tied up the trunks and
addressed them to "A. Lincoln, The White House, Washington, D.C." Before
he left Illinois there was a visit he wanted to make to a log farmhouse
a hundred and twenty-five miles southeast of Springfield. His father had
been dead for ten years, but his stepmother was still living there.
[Illustration]
Travel was slow in those days, and he had to change trains several
times. There was plenty of time to think. He knew that hard days lay
ahead. There were many Southerners who said that they were afraid to
live under a President who was against slavery. Several Southern states
had left the Union and were starting a country of their own. For the
United States to be broken up into two different nations seemed to him
the saddest thing that could possibly happen. As President, Abraham
Lincoln would have a chance--he must make the chance--to preserve the
Union. He could not know then that he would also have a chance to free
the slaves--a chance to serve his country as had no other President
since George Washington.
His thoughts went back to his boyhood. Even then he had wanted to be
President. What had once seemed an impossible dream was coming true. He
thought of all the people who had encouraged and helped him. He thought
of his mother who, more than any one person, had given him a chance to
get ahead.
"Mother!" Whenever Abe said the word, he was thinking of both Nancy and
Sarah.
Sarah was waiting by the window. A tall man in a high silk hat came
striding up the path.
"Abe! You've come!" She opened the door and looked up into the sad, wise
face.
"Of course, Mother." He gave her the kind of good bear hug he had given
her when he was a boy. "I am leaving soon for Washington. Did you think
I could go so far away without saying good-by?"
The word spread rapidly that he was there. One after another the
neighbors dropped in, until the little room was crowded. As he sat
before the fireplace, talking with all who came, Sarah seemed to see,
not a man about to become President, but a forlorn-looking little boy.
She had loved that little boy from the moment she first saw him. He had
always been a good son to her--a better son than her own John.
When the last visitor had gone, she drew her chair closer. It was good
to have a few minutes alone together.
"Abe," she told him, "I can say what scarcely one mother in a thousand
can say."
He looked at her inquiringly.
"You never gave me a cross word in your life. I reckon your mind and
mine, that is--" she laughed, embarrassed, "what little mind I had,
seemed to run together."
He reached over and laid a big hand on her knee. She put her wrinkled,
work-hardened hand on his.
When the time came to say good-by, she could hardly keep the tears back.
"Will I ever see you again?" she asked. "What if something should happen
to you, Abe? I feel it in my heart--"
"Now, now, Mother." He held her close. "Trust in the Lord and all will
be well."
"God bless you, Abraham."
[Illustration]
He kissed her and was gone. "He was the best boy I ever saw," she
thought, as she watched him drive away.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Growing up in southern Indiana, not far from where Abraham Lincoln spent
his boyhood, Frances Cavanah has always had a special interest in
Lincoln and the people who knew him. Furthermore, she is recognized
today as one of America's leading writers of historical books for boys
and girls. She has written many books for young people and has also been
associate editor of _Child Life Magazine_. One of her most interesting
and beautiful books is OUR COUNTRY'S STORY, a fascinating
introduction to American history, told in terms simple enough for
children under nine. Miss Cavanah now lives in Washington, D.C., and
devotes all of her time to writing.
ABOUT THE ARTIST
Paula Hutchison was born in Helena, Montana, and attended schools in the
State of Washington until she came east to attend Pratt Institute in
Brooklyn, New York. After graduating, she studied for several years in
Paris, London, and Florence and made painting trips to Cornwall, the
English lake district, and Scotland. She now lives in a small town on
the New Jersey shore where she and her husband have a six-acre farm, on
which she has her studio. Miss Hutchison has illustrated a great many
books for children and has also illustrated a number which she has
written herself.
The Library of Congress catalogs this book as follows:
Cavanah, Frances. Abe Lincoln gets his chance. Illustrated by Paula
Hutchison. Chicago, Rand McNally [1959] 92 p. illus. 24 cm. 1.
Lincoln, Abraham, Pres. U.S.--Fiction. I. Title PZ7.C28Ab
813.54 59-5789++
End of Project Gutenberg's Abe Lincoln Gets His Chance, by Frances Cavanah