and buoyancy to the heroic spirit of Abraham
Lincoln. He was ready for any kind and quality of work. What other young
men dreaded in the shape of toil, he took hold of with the utmost
cheerfulness.

"A spade, a rake, a hoe,
A pick-axe, or a bill,
A hook to reap, a scythe to mow
A flail, or what you will."

All day long he could split heavy rails in the woods, and half the night
long he could study his English Grammar by the uncertain flare and glare
of the light made by a pine-knot. He was at home on the land with his
axe, with his maul, with gluts, and his wedges; and he was equally at
home on water, with his oars, with his poles, with his planks, and with
his boat-hooks. And whether in his flat-boat on the Mississippi River,
or on the fireside of his frontier cabin, he was a man of work. A son of
toil himself, he was linked in brotherly sympathy with the sons of toil
in every loyal part of the Republic. This very fact gave him tremendous
power with the American people, and materially contributed not only to
selecting him to the Presidency, but in sustaining his administration of
the Government.

Upon his inauguration as President of the United States, an office, even
where assumed under the most favorable conditions, fitted to tax and
strain the largest abilities, Abraham Lincoln was met by a tremendous
crisis. He was called upon, not merely to administer the government, but
to decide in the face of terrible odds, the fate of the Republic.

A formidable rebellion rose in his path before him; the Union was
practically dissolved; his country was torn and rent asunder at the
center. Hostile armies were already organized against the Republic,
armed with the munitions of war which the Republic had provided for its
own defense. The tremendous question for him to decide was whether his
country should survive the crisis and flourish, or be dismembered and
perish. His predecessor in office had already decided the question in
favor of national dismemberment, by denying to it the right of
self-defense and self-preservation--a right which belongs to the meanest
insect.

Happily for the country, happily for you and me, the judgment of James
Buchanan, the patrician, was not the judgment of Abraham Lincoln, the
plebeian. He brought his strong common sense, sharpened in the school of
adversity, to bear upon the question. He did not hesitate, he did not
doubt, he did not falter but at once resolved, at what