esident of the United States
would refer to him as "the Great Heart of the White House." If any one
could have looked ahead fifty years to see all this, and could have told
Nancy Hanks Lincoln, she would not have believed it. After her own life
of toil and hardship it would have seemed to her "too good to be true."
But in the centuries following the humble yet beautiful career of "the
Backwoods Boy" from the hut to the White House, history keeps the whole
world saying with bated breath, "the half was never told!"

AN OLD MAN'S STORY OF SAVING ABRAHAM LINCOLN'S LIFE

Austin Gollaher, grown to manhood, still living in his old log cabin
near the Lincoln house in Knob Creek nearly twenty years after
Lincoln's assassination, and gave the following account of an adventure
he had with the little Lincoln boy:

"I once saved Lincoln's life. We had been going to school together one
year; but the next year we had no school, because there were so few
scholars to attend, there being only about twenty in the school the year
before.

"Consequently Abe and I had not much to do; but, as we did not go to
school and our mothers were strict with us, we did not get to see each
other very often. One Sunday morning my mother waked me up early, saying
she was going to see Mrs. Lincoln, and that I could go along. Glad of
the chance, I was soon dressed and ready to go. After my mother and I
got there, Abe and I played all through the day.

"While we were wandering up and down the little stream called Knob
Creek, Abe said: 'Right up there'--pointing to the east--'we saw a covey
of partridges yesterday. Let's go over.' The stream was too wide for us
to jump across. Finally we saw a foot-log, and decided to try it. It was
narrow, but Abe said, 'Let's coon it.'

"I went first and reached the other side all right. Abe went about half
way across, when he got scared and began trembling. I hollered to him,
'Don't look down nor up nor sideways, but look right at me and hold on
tight!' But he fell off into the creek, and, as the water was about
seven or eight feet deep (I could not swim, and neither could Abe), I
knew it would do no good for me to go in after him.

"So I got a stick--a long water sprout--and held it out to him. He came
up, grabbing with both hands, and I put the stick into his hands. He
clung to it, and I pulled him out on the bank, almost dead. I got him by
the arms and shook him well, and then I rolled him on the ground, when