was typical of the way in which Abe, as he grew up, came to acquire a very definite position in the community. In one way and another he gained the reputation which the boys gave him of being not only the strongest, but also "the cleverest fellow that ever broke into the settlement.”

Lincoln served as a clerk in a store at the town of New Salem, and there he began at odd moments to study law. A little later he knew enough law to become an attorney, and went to Springfield, and after that it was only a short time before he had won his clients. His cousin Dennis came to hear him try one of his first cases. Dennis watched the tall, lank young fellow, still as ungainly as in his early boyhood, and heard him tell the jury some of those same stories he had read aloud before the fire.

When Abe had finished, his cousin said to him, “Why did you tell those people so many stories?"

"Why, Denny," said Abe, "a story teaches a lesson. God tells truths in parables; they are easier for common folks to understand and recollect."

Such was the simple boyhood of Abraham Lincoln, but its very simplicity, and the hardships he had to overcome to get an education, made him a strong man. He knew people, and later, when he came to be President and to guide the country through the greatest trial in its history, it was those same qualities of perseverance and courage and trust in the people that made the simple-minded man the great helmsman of the Republic.

Lincoln was elected President just before the Civil War that is, the war between the North and the South. He did not want war and tried hard to prevent it, but it could not be stopped. One of his important acts as President was the freeing of the slaves.

At the close of the war, as he was sitting one evening in a

theater in Washington with his wife and two friends, listening to the play, he was shot from behind by a man who is now believed to have been insane. All the nation, the South as well as the North, was filled with sorrow and indignation. Never had a great American been more deeply mourned by the whole people.

Rupert Sargent Holland

THE SOLDIER'S REPRIEVE

"I THOUGHT, Mr. Allan, when I gave my Bennie to his country, that not a father in all this broad land made so precious a gift-no, not one. The dear boy only slept a minute — just one little minute, at his post; I know that was all, for Bennie never dozed over a duty. How prompt and reliable he was! I know he fell asleep only one little second he was so young, and not strong, that boy of mine! Why, he was as tall as I, and only eighteen! And now they shoot him because he was found asleep when doing sentinel duty! Twenty-four hours, the telegram said - only twenty-four hours! Where is Bennie now?"

"We will hope with his heavenly Father," said Mr. Allan, soothingly. "Yes, yes, let us hope; God is very merciful!" "I should be ashamed, father!' Bennie said, ‘when I am a man, to think that I never used this great right arm' and he held it out so proudly before me 'for my country

when it needed it! Palsy it rather than keep it at the plow!' 'Go, then-go, my boy,' I said, 'and God keep you!' God has kept him, I think, Mr. Allan!" And the farmer repeated these last words slowly, as if, in spite of his reason, his heart doubted him.

"Like the apple of His eye, Mr. Owen; doubt it not."

Blossom sat near them, listening with blanched cheek.

She had not shed a tear. Her anxiety had been so concealed that no one noticed it. She had occupied herself mechanically in the household cares. Now she answered a gentle tap at the kitchen door, opening it to receive from a neighbor's hand a letter. "It is from him," was all she said. It was like a message from the dead. Mr. Owen took the letter, but could not break the envelope on account of his trembling fingers, and held it toward Mr. Allan with the helplessness of a child. The minister opened it and read as follows:

“Dear Father, — When this reaches you I shall be in eternity. At first it seemed awful to me; but I have thought about it so much now that it has no terror, for they say they will not bind me, nor blind me, but that I may meet my death like a man. I thought, father, it might have been on the field of battle for my country, and that, when I fell, it would be fighting gloriously; but to be shot like a dog for nearly betraying it — to die for neglect of duty! Oh, father, I wonder the very thought does not kill me! But I shall not disgrace you. I am going to write you all about it, and when I am gone you may tell my comrades. I cannot now.

666

"You know I promised Jemmie Carr's mother I would look after her boy, and when he fell sick I did all I could for him. He was not strong when he was ordered back into the ranks, and the day before that night I carried all his luggage, besides my own, on our march. Toward night we went on double-quick, and though the luggage began to feel very heavy, everybody else was tired too; and as for Jemmie, if I had not lent him an arm now and then, he would have dropped by the way. I was all tired when we came into camp, and then it was Jemmie's turn to be sentry, and I would take his place; but I was too tired, father. I could not have kept awake if a gun had been pointed at my head; but I did not know it until - well, until it was too late.'

666

"God be thanked!" interrupted Mr. Owen, reverently. "I knew Bennie was not the boy to sleep carelessly at his post." "They tell me to-day that I have a short reprieve-given to me by circumstances - 'time to write to you,' our good Colonel says. Forgive him, father, he only does his duty; he would gladly save me if he could; and do not lay up my death against Jemmie. The poor boy is broken-hearted, and does nothing but beg and entreat them to let him die in my stead. "I can't bear to think of mother and Blossom. Comfort them, father! Tell them that I die as a brave boy should, and that when the war is over, they will not be ashamed of me, as they must be now. God help me; it is very hard to bear! Good-bye, father! God seems near and dear to me; not at all as if He wished me to perish forever, but as if He felt sorry for His poor, sinful, broken-hearted child, and would take me to be with Him and my Saviour in a better better life.""

A deep sigh burst from Mr. Owen's heart. "Amen!" he said solemnly; "Amen!"

"To-night, in the early twilight, I shall see the cows all coming home from pasture, and precious little Blossom standing on the back stoop, waiting for me; but I shall never, never come! God bless you all! Forgive your poor Bennie.'"

Late that night the door of the "back stoop" opened softly, and a little figure glided out, and down the footpath that led to the road by the mill. She seemed rather flying than walking, turning her head neither to the right nor the left, looking only now and then to heaven, and folding her hands as if in prayer.

Two hours later the same young girl stood at the Mill Depot watching the coming of the night train; and the conductor, as he reached down to lift her into the car, wondered at the tear-stained face that was upturned toward the dim

lantern he held in his hand. A few questions and ready answers told him all; and no father could have cared more tenderly for his only child than he for our little Blossom. She was on her way to Washington, to ask President Lincoln for her brother's life. She had stolen away, leaving only a note to tell her father where and why she had gone. She had brought Bennie's letter with her; no good, kind heart, like the President's, could refuse to be melted by it.

The next morning they reached New York, and the conductor hurried her on to Washington. Every minute, now, might be the means of saving her brother's life. And so, in an incredibly short time, Blossom reached the capital, and hastened immediately to the White House.

The President had but just seated himself to his morning's task of looking over and signing important papers, when, without one word of announcement, the door softly opened, and Blossom, with downcast eyes and folded hands, stood before him.

"Well, my child," he said, in his pleasant, cheerful tones, 'what do you want so bright and early in the morning?" "Bennie's life, please sir," faltered Blossom.

"Bennie! Who is Bennie?"

"My brother, sir. They are going to shoot him for sleeping at his post."

"Oh, yes," and Mr. Lincoln ran his eye over the paper before him. "I remember. It was a fatal sleep. You see, child, it was at a time of special danger. Thousands of lives might have been lost for his culpable negligence.”

"So my father said," replied Blossom, gravely; "but poor Bennie was so tired, sir, and Jemmie so weak. He did the work of two, sir, and it was Jemmie's night, not his; but Jemmie was too tired, and Bennie never thought about himself, that he was tired too.".