A Man for the Ages: A Story of the Builders of DemocracyBacheller, Irving
General
A Man for the Ages: A Story of the Builders of Democracy
Bacheller, Irving
Lincoln, Abraham, 1809-1865 -- Fiction
"They had the same kind o' feelin's that Brimstead has," said the
legislator. "I wish we had had you in the House."
"They would have thrown me out of a window."
"I wouldn't wonder but I reckon the time is near when they would urge you
to come in at the door. You've got more good sense than all of us put
together. I've heard you accuse me of growing but your own growth has
astonished me."
"No one can stand still in this country especially if he's got a wife
like mine," Samson answered. "Even Mr. and Mrs. Peter Lukins want to be
movin' on, an' a city is likely to come an' sit down beside ye when ye
ain't lookin'."
"Your wife is a wonderful woman," said Abe.
"She's been a great help to me," Samson declared. "We read together and
talk the matter over. She's got better sense than I have."
"And yet they say women ought not to vote," said Lincoln. "That's another
relic of feudalism. I think that the women you and I know are as well
qualified to vote as the men."
"On the whole better. They are more industrious, thrifty and dependable.
Have you ever seen a 'Colonel' Lukins or a Bap McNoll in woman's dress?"
"Never. Democracy has much ground to win. For my part I believe that the
Declaration of Independence is a practical document. My ambition is to
see its truth accepted everywhere. As a contribution to human welfare its
principles are second only to the law of Moses. It should be our work to
keep the structure of America true to the plan of its architects."
After a moment of silence Lincoln added: "What is your ambition?"
"It is very modest," said Samson. "I've been thinking that I'd like to go
into some kind of business and help develop the West."
"Well some one has got to provide our growing population with food and
clothing and tools and transportation."
"And see that they don't get El Doradoed," said Harry.
At early candlelight they reached the sycamore woods very hungry. It was
a beautiful grove-like forest on the shore of a stream. The crossing was
a rough bridge of corduroy. A crude log tavern and a cruder store stood
on the farther shore of the creek. The tavern was a dirty place with a
drunken proprietor. Three ragged, shiftless farmers and a half-breed
Indian sat in its main room in varying stages of inebriacy. A well
dressed, handsome, young man with a diamond in his shirt-front was
leading a horse back and forth in the stable yard. The diamond led Samson
to suspect that he was the man Davis of whom Mrs. Brimstead had spoken.
Our travelers, not liking the look of the place, got some oats and rode
on, camping near the farther edge of the woods, where they built a fire,
fed and tethered their horses and sat down and ate from the store in
their saddle-bags.
"I was hankering for a hot supper," said Abe as they began eating.
"Washington Irving wrote in his journal that if he couldn't get a dinner
to suit his taste he endeavored to get a taste to suit his dinner. That
is what we must do."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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