ion to
Jacksonville," twenty-six miles and seventy chains in length, the exact
course of which survey, with detailed bearings and distances, was drawn
on common white letter-paper pasted in a long slip, to a scale of two
inches to the mile, in ordinary yet clear and distinct penmanship. The
compensation he received for this service was three dollars per day for
five days, and two dollars and fifty cents for making the plat and
report.

An advertisement in the "Journal" shows that the regular fees of another
deputy were "two dollars per day, or one dollar per lot of eight acres
or less, and fifty cents for a single line, with ten cents per mile for
traveling."

While this class of work and his post-office, with its emoluments,
probably amply supplied his board, lodging and clothing, it left him no
surplus with which to pay his debts, for it was in the latter part of
that same year (1834) that Van Bergen caused his horse and surveying
instruments to be sold under the hammer, as already related. Meanwhile,
amid these fluctuations of good and bad luck, Lincoln maintained his
equanimity, his steady, persevering industry, and his hopeful ambition
and confidence in the future. Through all his misfortunes and his
failures, he preserved his self-respect and his determination to
succeed.

Two years had nearly elapsed since he was defeated for the legislature,
and, having received so flattering a vote on that occasion, it was
entirely natural that he should determine to try a second chance. Four
new representatives were to be chosen at the August election of 1834,
and near the end of April Lincoln published his announcement that he
would again be a candidate. He could certainly view his expectations in
every way in a more hopeful light. His knowledge had increased, his
experience broadened, his acquaintanceship greatly increased. His
talents were acknowledged, his ability recognized. He was postmaster and
deputy surveyor. He had become a public character whose services were in
demand. As compared with the majority of his neighbors, he was a man of
learning who had seen the world. Greater, however, than all these
advantages, his sympathetic kindness of heart, his sincere, open
frankness, his sturdy, unshrinking honesty, and that inborn sense of
justice that yielded to no influence, made up a nobility of character
and bearing that impressed the rude frontiersmen as much as, if not more
quickly and deeply than, it would have done