breeches strode on, with
the two boys under its arms.

"I beg!" at last said one of the boys.

"I beg!" said the other.

"Then I'll let you go, and we'll all be friends again!"

"Yes, Abraham, I'll give in, if he will."

"I will. Let me go."

The tall form dropped the two boys, and soon all was peace in the
April-like air.

"Abraham Lincoln will never allow any quarrels in our school," said
another boy. "Where he is there has to be peace. It wouldn't be fair for
him to use his strength so, only he's always right; and when strength is
right it is all for the best."

The boy had a rather clear perception of the true principles of human
government. A will to do right and the power to enforce it, make nations
great as well as character powerful.

The eventful day came, with blue-birds in the glimmering timber, and a
blue sky over all. People came from a distance to attend the
examination, and were surprised to find the school-house changed into a
green bower.

[Illustration: ABRAHAM AS A PEACE-MAKER.]

The afternoon session had been assigned to receiving company, and the
pupils awaited the guests with trembling expectation. It was a warm day,
and the oiled paper that served for panes of glass in the windows had
been pushed aside to admit the air and make an outlook, and the door had
been left open. The first to arrive was Jasper. The school saw him
coming; but he looked so kindly, benevolent, and patriarchal, that the
boys and girls did not stand greatly in awe of him. They seemed to feel
instinctively that he was their friend and was with them. But a
different feeling came over them when 'Squire Gentry, of Gentryville,
came cantering on a horse that looked like a war-charger. 'Squire Gentry
was a great man in those parts, and filled a continental space in their
young minds. The faces of all the scholars were turned silently and
deferently to their books when the 'Squire banged with his whip-handle
on the door. Aunt Olive was next seen coming down the timber. She was
dressed in a manner to cause solicitude and trepidation. She wore knit
mits, had a lofty poke bonnet, and a "checkered" gown gay enough for a
valance, and, although it was yet very early spring, she carried a
parasol over her head. There was deep interest in the books as her form
also darkened the festooned door.

Then the pupils breathed freer. But only for a moment. Sarah Lincoln,
Abraham's sister, looked out of the window, and beheld a sight