"There are purposes in life that we can not see," he began, "but the secret comes to those who listen to the beating of the human heart, and at the doors of heaven. Spirits whisper, as it were. The soul, a great right intention, is here; and there is a conscience here which is power; and here, for aught we can say, may be some young Servius Tullius of this wide republic." Servius Tullius? Would any one but he have dreamed that the citizens of Rome would one day delight to honor an ungainly pupil of that forest school? One day there came to Washington a present to the Liberator of the American Republic. It looked as follows, and bore the following inscription: [Illustration: "To Abraham Lincoln, President, for the second time, of the American Republic, citizens of Rome present this stone, from the wall of Servius Tullius, by which the memory of each of those brave assertors of liberty may be associated. Anno 1865."] It is said that the modest President shrank from receiving such a compliment as that. It was too much. He hid away the stone in a storeroom of the capital, in the basement of the White House. It now constitutes a part of his monument, being one of the most impressive relics in the Memorial Hall of that structure. It is twenty-four hundred years old, and it traveled across the world to the prairies of Illinois, a tribute from the first advocate of the rights of the people to the latest defender of all that is sacred to the human soul. CHAPTER VIII. THE PARABLE PREACHES IN THE WILDERNESS. The house in which young Abraham Lincoln attended church was simple and curious, as were the old forest Baptist preachers who conducted the services there. It was called simply the "meeting-house." It stood in the timber, whose columns and aisles opened around it like a vast cathedral, where the rocks were altars and the birds were choirs. It was built of rude logs, and had hard benches, but the plain people had done more skillful work on this forest sanctuary than on the school-house. The log meeting-house stood near the log school-house, and both revealed the heart of the people who built them. It was the Prussian school-master, trained in the moral education of Pestalozzi, that made the German army victorious over France in the late war. And it was the New England school-master that built the great West, and made Plymouth Rock the crown-stone of our own nation. The world owes to humble Pestalozzi what it never could have secured from a Napoleon. It is right ideas that march to the conquest, that lift mankind, and live.