ward was jist pizen, an' a spindlin' feller
had to stay in the settlemints. The clearin's hadn't no use fur him. Tom
was strong, an' he wasn't lazy nor afeer'd o' nothin', but he was kind
o' shif'less--couldn't git nothin' ahead, an' didn't keer putickalar.
Lots o' them kind o' fellers in 'arly days, 'druther hunt and fish, an'
I reckon they had their use. They killed off the varmints an' made it
safe fur other fellers to go into the woods with an ax.

"When Nancy married Tom he was workin' in a carpenter shop. It wasn't
Tom's fault he couldn't make a livin' by his trade. Thar was sca'cely
any money in that kentry. Every man had to do his own tinkerin', an'
keep everlastin'ly at work to git enough to eat. So Tom tuk up some
land. It was mighty ornery land, but it was the best Tom could git,
when he hadn't much to trade fur it.

"Pore? We was all pore, them days, but the Lincolns was porer than
anybody. Choppin' trees an' grubbin' roots an' splittin' rails an'
huntin' an' trappin' didn't leave Tom no time. It was all he could do to
git his fambly enough to eat and to kiver 'em. Nancy was turrible
ashamed o' the way they lived, but she knowed Tom was doin' his best,
an' she wa'n't the pesterin' kind. She was purty as a pictur' an' smart
as you'd find 'em anywhere. She could read an' write. The Hankses was
some smarter'n the Lincolns. Tom thought a heap o' Nancy, an' he was as
good to her as he knowed how. He didn't drink or swear or play cyards or
fight, an' them was drinkin', cussin', quarrelsome days. Tom was
popylar, an' he could lick a bully if he had to. He jist couldn't git
ahead, somehow."

"NANCY'S BOY BABY"

Evidently Elizabethtown failed to furnish Thomas Lincoln a living wage
from carpentering, for he moved with his young wife and his baby girl to
a farm on Nolen Creek, fourteen miles away. The chief attraction of the
so-called farm was a fine spring of water bubbling up in the shade of a
small grove. From this spring the place came to be known as "Rock Spring
Farm." It was a barren spot and the cabin on it was a rude and primitive
sort of home for a carpenter and joiner to occupy. It contained but a
single room, with only one window and one door. There was a wide
fireplace in the big chimney which was built outside. But that rude hut
became the home of "the greatest American."

Abraham Lincoln was born to poverty and privation, but he was never a
pauper. His hardships were those of many other pioneers,