ill? One
of them tried to look through the hole in the door into the dark and
bloody room. Then the two attempted to climb down the chimney from the
low roof of the cabin, but Mrs. Merrill put her bed into the fireplace
and set it on fire.

"Such were some of the scenes of my father's few years of life in
Kentucky; and now comes the most dreadful memory of all. Oh, it makes me
wild to think o' it! Preacher, as I said, my father was killed by the
Indians. You did not know that before, did you? No; well, it was so.
Abraham Lincoln was shot by the red-skins. I was with him at the time, a
little boy then, and I shall never forget that awful morning--never,
never!--Abraham, mind the potatoes; you've heard the story a hundred
times."

Young Abraham Lincoln turned the potatoes and brightened the fire.
Thomas Lincoln bent over and rested his body on his knees, and held his
pipe out in one hand.

"Preacher, listen. One morning father looked out of the cabin door, and
said to mother:

"'I must go to the field and build a fence to-day. I will let Tommy go
with me.'

"I was Tommy. I was six years old then. He loved me, and liked to have
me with him. It was in the year 1784--I never shall forget the dark days
of that year!--never, never.

"I had two brothers older than myself, Mordecai and Josiah. We give boys
Scriptur' names in those days. They had gone to work in another field
near by.

"We went to the field where the rails were to be cut and laid, and
father began to work. He was a great, noble-looking man, and a true
pioneer. I can see him now. I was playing near him, when suddenly there
came a shot as it were out of the air. My poor father reeled over and
fell down dead. What must have been his last thoughts of my mother and
her five children? I have often thought of that--what must have been his
last thoughts? Well, Preacher, you listen.

"A band of Indians came leaping out of the bush howling like demons. I
fell upon the ground. I can sense the fright now. A tall, black Indian,
with a face like a wolf, came and stood over me, and was about to seize
hold of me. I could hear him breathe. There came a shot from the house,
and the Indian dropped down beside me, dead. My brother Mordecai had
seen father fall, 'n' ran to the house 'n' fired that shot that saved my
life. Josiah had gone to the stockade for help, and he returned soon
with armed men, and the Indians disappeared.

"O Preacher, those were dark days, wasn't