An’ I ain’t, Rhett,--I ain’t teched a drop o’ liquor sence that night. But what I want to say is that the man that had strength enough an’ heart enough to do that fur me who was nothin’ to him, has got strength enough an’ heart enough an’ grit enough to carry this country that he loves, on his bent shoulders, through the awfulest storm that ever swept it, till he brings it home safe an’ sound an’ unbroken to all of us. It’s a mighty task, Rhett Bannister; but he’s a-goin’ to do it; I know ’im, an’ I tell ye he’s a-goin’ to do it; an’ when he’s done it, you an’ me an’ ev’ry man ’at loves his country as he ort to, is goin’ to git down on our knees an’ thank God ’at Abraham Lincoln ever lived.” Clear and resonant on the night air the old man’s voice rang as he finished his story and rose to his feet. And while his face could not be seen for the darkness, they who heard him felt that it was aglow with enthusiasm and love for the largest-minded, biggest-hearted man that had ever crossed his path--Abraham Lincoln. And Bob, leaning far forward in his chair, drinking in every word of the story, thrilled with the earnestness of the speaker, felt his heart fired anew with reverence and enthusiasm for the great war-president, and with zeal for the cause which he had so faithfully espoused. Rhett Bannister was too much of a gentleman and too deeply artistic in temperament to try to break with argument or depreciation the force of the old man’s recital. “Oh, well!” he said, rising. “We all have our heroes. This would be a sad world if there were no heroes to worship. And I can’t blame you, Seth, for having put a halo around Lincoln’s head.” “Thank you, Rhett; good-night!” The old man limped slowly down the path and out into the road and turned his face toward home. After that, to those who sat upon the porch, the quiet of the windless, starlit summer night was unbroken. Over in the direction of the village an occasional rocket flared up into the sky and fell back into darkness--nothing more. But from that night the dominating personality in Bob Bannister’s life was Abraham Lincoln. Look which way he would, the vision of that rugged, kindly face, which he had seen so often pictured, and the tall, gaunt form, stood out ever before his eyes, heroic, paternal, potential to the uttermost. From Seth Mills he obtained a small volume published in 1860 reciting the President’s career. And from the same source he got what was much better, that modest, unique sketch of Lincoln’s life, written by himself at about the same time for the same purpose. These books he read and reread many times, and the oftener he read them the greater grew his admiration for the one great hero of his thought and life.