In The Boyhood of Lincoln A Tale of the Tunker Schoolmaster and the Times of Black Hawk

Hezekiah Butterworth

Description

Abraham Lincoln has become the typical character of American institutions, and it is the purpose of this book, which is a true picture in a framework of fiction, to show how that character, which so commanded the hearts and the confidence of men, was formed. He who in youth unselfishly seeks the good of others, without fear or favor, may be ridiculed, but he makes for himself a character fit to govern others, and one that the people will one day need and honor. The secret of Abraham Lincoln's success was the faith that right makes might. This principle the book seeks by abundant story-telling to illustrate and make clear.

Informations

• Publié par: Pub One Info
• Date de parution: 23 octobre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9782819904588
• Langue: English

Extrait

PREFACE.
Abraham Lincoln has become the typical character ofAmerican institutions, and it is the purpose of this book, which isa true picture in a framework of fiction, to show how thatcharacter, which so commanded the hearts and the confidence of men,was formed. He who in youth unselfishly seeks the good of others,without fear or favor, may be ridiculed, but he makes for himself acharacter fit to govern others, and one that the people will oneday need and honor. The secret of Abraham Lincoln's success was the"faith that right makes might." This principle the book seeks byabundant story-telling to illustrate and make clear.
In this volume, as in the "Log School-House on theColumbia," the adventures of a pioneer school-master are made torepresent the early history of a newly settled country. The "LogSchool-House on the Columbia" gave a view of the early history ofOregon and Washington. This volume collects many of the Indianromances and cabin tales of the early settlers of Illinois, andpictures the hardships and manly struggles of one who by force ofearly character made himself the greatest of representativeAmericans.
The character of the Dunkard, or Tunker, as awandering school-master, may be new to many readers. Suchmissionaries of the forests and prairies have now for the most partdisappeared, but they did a useful work among the pioneersettlements on the Ohio and Illinois Rivers. In this case wepresent him as a disciple of Pestalozzi and a friend of Froebel,and as one who brings the German methods of story-telling into hiswork. "Was there ever so good an Indian as Umatilla?" asks anaccomplished reviewer of the "Log School-House on the Columbia."The chief whose heroic death in the grave of his son is recorded inthat volume did not receive the full measure of credit for hisdevotion, for he was really buried alive in the grave of hisboy. A like question may be asked in regard to the father ofWaubeno in this volume. We give the story very much as Black Hawkhimself related it. In Drake's History of the Indians we find itrelated in the following manner: "It is related by Black Hawk, inhis Life, that some time before the War of 1812 one of the Indianshad killed a Frenchman at Prairie des Chiens. 'The British soonafter took him prisoner, and said they would shoot him next day.His family were encamped a short distance below the mouth of theOuisconsin. He begged permission to go and see them that night, ashe was to die the next day . They permitted him to go, afterpromising to return the next morning by sunrise. He visited hisfamily, which consisted of a wife and six children. I can notdescribe their meeting and parting to be understood by the whites,as it appears that their feelings are acted upon by certain ruleslaid down by their preachers ! – while ours are governed onlyby the monitor within us. He parted from his wife and children,hurried through the prairie to the fort, and arrived in time. Thesoldiers were ready, and immediately marched out and shot himdown !' If this were not cold-blooded, deliberate murder on thepart of the whites I have no conception of what constitutes thatcrime. What were the circumstances of the murder we are notinformed; but whatever they may have been, they can not excuse astill greater barbarity."
It belongs, like the story of so-called Umatilla inthe "Log School-House on the Columbia," to a series of greatlegends of Indian character which the poet's pen and the artist'sbrush would do well to perpetuate. The examples of Indians who havevalued honor more than life are many, and it is a pleasing duty topicture such scenes of native worth, as true to the spirit of thepast.
We have in this volume, as in the former book,freely mingled history, tradition, and fiction, but we believe thatwe have in no case been untrue to the fact and spirit of the timeswe picture, and we have employed fiction chiefly as a framework tobring what is real more vividly into view. We have employed theinterpretive imagination merely for narrative purposes. Nearly allthat has distinctive worth in the volume is substantially true tohistory, tradition, and the general spirit of old times in theIllinois, the Sangamon, and the Chicago; to the character of the"jolly old pedagogue long ago"; and to that marvelous man whoaccepted in youth the lesson of lessons, that "right makesmight."
28 WORCHESTER STREET, BOSTON, MASS.
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCED. "Boy, are there any schools in theseparts?" "Crawford's." "And who, my boy, is Crawford?" "Theschoolmaster, don't yer know? He's great on thrashing – onthrashing – and – and he knows everything. Everybody in these partshas heard of Crawford. He's great." "That is all veryextraordinary. 'Great on thrashing, and knows everything.' Veryextraordinary! Do you raise much wheat in these parts?" "He don'tthrash wheat, mister. Old Dennis and young Dennis do that withtheir thrashing-flails." "But what does he thrash, my boy – whatdoes he thrash?" "He just thrashes boys, don't you know.""Extraordinary – very extraordinary. He thrashes boys." "Andteaches 'em their manners. He teaches manners, Crawford does.Didn't you never hear of Crawford? You must be a stranger in theseparts." "Yes, I am a stranger in Indiana. I have been following thetimber along the creek, and looking out on the prairie islands.This is a beautiful country. Nature has covered it with grasses andflowers, and the bees will swarm here some day; I see them now; theair is all bright with them, my boy." "I don't see any bees; itisn't the time of year for 'em. Do you cobble?" "You don't quiteunderstand me. I was speaking spiritually. Yes, I cobble to pay myway. Yes, my boy." "Do you preach?" "Yes, and teach the higherbranches – like Crawford. He teaches the higher branches, does henot?" "Don't make any odds where he gets 'em. I didn't know that heused the higher branches. He just cuts a stick anywhere, and goesat 'em, he does." "You do not comprehend me, my boy. I teach thehigher branches in new schools – Latin and singing. I do not usethe higher branches of the trees." "Latin! Then you must be a wizard ." "No, no, my boy. I am one of the Brethren – called.My new name is Jasper. I chose that name because I neededpolishing. Do you see? Well, the Lord is doing his work, polishingme, and I shall shine by and by. 'They that turn many torighteousness shall shine like the stars of heaven.' They call methe Parable." "Then you be a Tunker?" "I am one of the wanderingBrethren that they call 'Tunkers.'" "You preach for nothin'? Theydo." "Yes, my boy; the Word is free." "Then who pays you?" "Mysoul." "And you teach for nothin', too, do ye?" "Yes, my boy.Knowledge is free." "Then who pays you?" "It all comes back to me.He that teaches is taught." "You don't cobble for nothin', do ye?""Yes – I cobble to pay my way. I am a wayfaring man, wandering toand fro in the wilderness of the world." "You cobble to payyourself for teachin' and preachin'! Why don't you make them pay you? I shouldn't think that you would want to preach and teachand cobble all for nothin', and travel, and travel, and sleepanywhere. Father will be proper glad to see you – and mother; weare glad to see near upon anybody. I suppose that you will holdforth down to Crawford's; in the log meetin'-'ouse, or in theschool-'ouse, may be, or under the great trees over Nancy Lincoln'sgrave. Elkins he preached there, and the circuit-rider." "If Ifollow the timber, I will come to Crawford's, my boy?" "Yes,mister. You'll come to the school-'ouse, and the meetin'-'ouse. Theschool-'ouse has a low-down roof and a big chimney. Crawford willbe right glad to see you, won't he now? They are great on spellin'down there – have spellin'-matches, and all the people come fromfar and near to hear 'em spell – hundreds of 'em. Link – he's thehead speller – he could spell down anybody. It is the greatestschool in all these here new parts. You will have a right good timedown there; they'll treat ye right well." "Good, my boy; you speakkindly. I shall have a good time, if the people have ears." "Ears!They've all got ears – just like other folks. You didn't think thatthey didn't have any ears, did ye?" "I mean ears for the truth. Imust travel on. I am glad that I met you, my lad. Tell your fatherand mother that old Jasper the Parable has gone by, and that he hasa message for them in his heart. God bless you, my boy – God blessyou! You are a little rude in your speech, but you mean well."
The man went on, following the trail along the greattrees of Pigeon Creek, and the boy stood looking after him. Thewater rippled under the trees, and afar lay the open prairie, likea great sun sea. The air was cool, but the light of spring was init, and the blue-birds fluted blithely among the budding trees.
As he passed along amid these new scenes, a singularfigure appeared in the way. It was a woman in a linsey-woolseydress, corn sun-bonnet, and a huge cane. She looked at the Tunkersuspiciously, yet seemed to retard her steps that he might overtakeher. "My good woman," said the latter, coming up to her, "I am notsure of my way." "Well, I am." "I wish to go to the Pigeon Creek –settlement – " "Then you ought to have kept the way when you hadit." "But, my good woman, I am a stranger in these parts. A boy hasdirected me, but I feel uncertain. What do you do when you loseyour way?" "I don't lose it." "But if you were – " "I'd just turnto the right, and keep right straight ahead till I found it.""True, true; but this is a new country to me. I am one of theBrethren." "Ye be, be ye? I thought you were one of them landagents. One of the Brethren. I'm proper glad. Who were you lookin'for?" "Crawford's school." "The college? Am you're goin' there? Igo over there sometimes to see him wallop the boys. We must allhave discipline in life, you know, and it is best to begin with theyoung. Crawford does. They say that Crawford teaches clear to therule of three, whatever that may be. One added to one is more thanone, accor