ie, the light heightening amid glimmerings of
pearly rain.

Jasper went back to Pigeon Creek with Abraham.

"Isn't that woman a little queer?" he asked--"a little touched in mind,
may be?"

"She does not like me," said the boy; "though most people like me. I
seem to have a bent for study, and father thinks that the time I spend
in study is wasted, and Aunt Olive calls me lazy, and so do the
Crawfords--I don't mean the master. Most people like me, but there are
some here that don't think much of me. I am not lazy. I long for
learning! I will have it. I learn everything I can from every one, and I
do all I can for every one. She calls me lazy, though I have been good
to her. They say I am a lively boy, and I like to be thought well of
here, and when I hear such things as that it makes me feel down in the
mouth. Do you ever feel down in the mouth? I do. I wonder what will
become of me? Whatever happens, or folks may say, elder, I mean to make
the best of life, and be true to the best that is in me. Something will
come of it. Don't you think so, elder?"

They came to Thomas Lincoln's cabin, and the serene face of Mrs. Lincoln
met them at the door. A beautiful evening followed the tempest gust, and
the Lincolns and the old Tunker sat down to a humble meal.

The mild spring evening that followed drew together another group of
people to the lowly home of Thomas Lincoln. Among them came Aunt Olive,
whose missionary work among her neighbors was as untiring as her tongue.
And last among the callers there came stealing into the light of the
pine fire, like a shadow, the tall, brown form of Johnnie Kongapod, or
Konapod.

The pioneer story-telling here began again, and ended in an episode that
left a strange, mysterious impression, like a prophecy, on nearly every
mind.

"Let me tell you the story of my courtship," said Thomas Lincoln.

"Thomas!" said a mild, firm voice.

"Oh, don't speak in that tone to me," said the backwoodsman to his wife,
who had sought to check him.--"Sally don't like to hear that story,
though I do think it is to her credit, if simple honesty is a thing to
be respected. Sally is an honest woman. I don't believe that there is an
honester creatur' in all these parts, unless it was that Injun that
Johnnie Kongapod tells about."

A loud laugh arose, and the dusky figure of Johnnie Kongapod retreated
silently back into a deep shadow near the open door. His feelings had
been wounded. Young Abraham Linc