as Mr. Lincoln afterwards said, a man might lift himself over a rail-fence by the waistband of his breeches.

The adventurers had a swift and prosperous voyage down the river to New Orleans. This was Lincoln's second visit to the land of slavery. He saw more of the peculiar institution than before. He saw men and women whipped, bought, and sold, families separated, children torn from their parents and wives from their husbands, without any sign of compunction on the part of buyers, sellers, and owners. It was a thrilling sight to the young pioneer of the West. In later years John Hanks said: "Lincoln saw it; his heart bled; said nothing much, was silent, looked bad. I can say it, knowing him, that it was on this trip that he formed his opinions of slavery. It run its iron into him then and there, May, 1831."

There is a tradition that it was during this visit to Louisiana that Lincoln met an aged negress who pretended to be a Voudoo seeress, or fortune-teller, and that she said to him: "You will be President, and all the negroes will be free." This is not authenticated. It is not unlikely that the seeress had said that same thing to a great many young men. We do know that Lincoln was always superstitious. He was brought up to regard signs and wonders, dreams and fortune-tellings. If he did hear this from the Voudoo woman, he would be sure to remember it all his days. And he never spoke of it to his most intimate friends in later years.

On his return from New Orleans, so well had

Lincoln commended himself to Offutt that that worthy man engaged him to take charge of a small country store which he had opened at New Salem, and the little community that had witnessed the struggle and triumph of the long-legged young giant on Rutledge's dam now made the acquaintance of the hero of that exploit at closer range. He at once established himself as a favorite with the people, who, rude and rough though they were, readily appreciated the good qualities of any stranger that came among them. All were strangers to each other at first, in those changeable times. Villages grew and fell into nothingness again; large tracts of land were covered with cabins of settlers and were again depopulated as the fancy of the wandering tribes seized them. New Salem was very new when Lincoln was stuck on the dam before it; he spent only a short time there, giving it an immortality of name that few villages ever earn; it faded away into nothingness and its site was forgotten, after he went away.

In managing the country store, as in everything that he undertook for others, Lincoln did his very best. He was honest, civil, ready to do anything that should encourage customers to come to the place, full of pleasantries, patient, and alert. On one occasion, finding, late at night, when he counted over his cash, that he had taken a few cents from a customer more than was due, he closed the store and walked a long distance to make good the deficiency. At another time, discovering on the scales, in the morning, a weight with which he had weighed out a

package of tea for a woman, the night before, he saw that he had given her too little for her money; he weighed out what was due and carried it to her, much to the surprise of the woman, who had not known that she was short in the amount of her purchase. Innumerable incidents of this sort are related of Lincoln; and we should not have space to tell of the alertness with which he sprung to protect defenceless women from insult, or feeble children from tyranny; for in the rude community in which he lived the rights of the defenceless were not always respected as they should have been. There were bullies then, as now.

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Lincoln soon had a taste of the quality of some of these. Not far from New Salem was a group of farms in what was known as Clary's Grove. The Clary's Grove boys," as the overgrown young men of the settlement were called, were rude, boisterous, swaggering, and tremendous fighters. They cast their eyes on the young stranger at Offutt's store, so well liked by the women, and resolved that he should be "taken down a peg." Stories of Stories of young Lincoln's prowess in wrestling had gone abroad, perhaps, and the conceit which the boys of Clary's Grove thought was in the stranger was to be taken out of him. Jack Armstrong, the bully of the band, was pitched upon to lay low Abe Lincoln. The crowd gathered around to see the sport, but the stalwart young Kentuckian soon showed that he was more than a match for the champion of Clary's Grove. Jack Armstrong was slowly sinking under the vigorous wrestling of the long-limbed Lincoln, and the entire

gang were ready to break in and overwhelm him. Jack resorted to foul play, in his desperation, and Lincoln, stung by this meanness, seized the bully by the throat, with both hands, and, putting forth all his giant strength, flung him in the air, shaking him as though he were a child, the legs of the champion whirling madly over his head. At this astounding performance, the gang of Clary's Grove broke into the circle, and Lincoln, backing against the store, calmly waited their onset; but Jack Armstrong, with what breath remained to him, warned off his comrades, and, touched by a feeling of chivalry, shook his adversary by the hand, crying: "Boys, Abe Lincoln is the best fellow that ever broke into this settlement! He shall be one of us!" That settled it. Out of the fight that he had tried to avoid, Lincoln emerged as champion. Thenceforth, no truer friend, no more devoted ally than Jack Armstrong to Abraham Lincoln ever lived. In later days, when Lincoln was out of money, out of work, all that Jack had was his. And when, at very rare intervals, some reckless fellow disregarded Lincoln's claim to championship, he quickly learned from the patient, long-suffering young giant, when he had been pressed too far, that this man was the toughest athlete in that settlement.

The reader should not be misled with a notion that Lincoln loved fighting and strife; far from it, he was always a man of peace. It was only when he was pushed and provoked beyond endurance that he burst upon his tormentor and punished him so thoroughly and speedily that, as the saying is, he did

not know what hurt him, and when the punishment was over, the good-natured young giant was ready to soothe the feelings of the vanquished. When he had knocked down and mauled a bully, and had rubbed his face with smart-weed, by way of ridiculous discipline, he let him up, helped him to compose his disorder and brought him water to assuage the woes of his irritated countenance. Lincoln was no fighter. He was brave, absolutely unafraid of anybody or anything. He never played cards, nor gambled, nor smoked, nor used profane language, nor addicted himself to any of the rude vices of the times. But far and wide he was reckoned a hero, worshipped by the stalwart wrestlers and runners of the region, cordially liked by the women, respected as a rising and brave young fellow by the elders, and earning for himself the title that stuck to him through life, "honest Abe."

Abe Lincoln became, by general consent, the peacemaker, the arbitrator of all the petty quarrels of the neighborhood. Shunning vulgar brawls himself, he attempted to keep others out of them. An absolutely honest man, he advised exact justice to all who sought his advice; and, whenever there was too much violence developed in debate around Offutt's store door, the tall form of the young manager was sure to be seen towering over the conflict; and when argument failed to quell the disturbance, the terrific windmill of those long arms invariably brought peace. In all his activities, however, Lincoln never for one moment knew what it was to "let up" on his reading and studies. There is some