itting for an hour, silent and serene, while Thomas Lincoln talked.

_THOMAS LINCOLN'S STORY._

"My father," began the old story-teller, "came to Kentucky from
Virginia. His name was Abraham Lincoln. I have always thought that was a
good, solid name--a worthy name--and so I gave it to my boy here, and
hope that he will never bring any disgrace upon it. I never can be much
in this world; Abe may.

"This was in Daniel Boone's day. On our way to Kentucky we began to hear
terrible stories of the Indian attacks on the new settlers. In 1780, the
year that we emigrated from Virginia, there were many murders of the
settlers by the Indians, which were followed by the battle of Lower Blue
Licks, in which Boone's son was wounded.

"I have heard my mother and the old settlers talk over that battle.
When Daniel Boone found that his son was wounded, he tried to carry him
away. There was a river near, and he lifted the boy upon his back and
hurried toward it. As he came to the river, the boy grew heavy.

"'Father, I believe that I am dying,' said the boy.

"'We will be across the river soon,' said Boone. 'Hold on.'

"The boy clung to his father's neck with stiffening arms. While they
were crossing the river the son died. Oh, it was a sight for pity--now,
wasn't it, preacher? Boone in the river, with the dead body of his boy
on his back. Our country has known few scenes like that. How that father
must 'a' felt! You furriners little know these things.

"The Indians swam after him. He laid down the body of his son on the
ground and struck into the forest.

"It was in this war that Boone's little daughter was carried away by the
Indians. I must tell ye. I love to talk of old times.

"She was at play with two other little girls outside of the stockade at
Boonesborough, on the Kentucky River. There was a canoe on the bank.

"'Let us take the canoe and go across the river,' said one of the girls,
innocent-like.

"Well, they got into the boat and paddled across the running river to
the opposite side. They reached shallow water, when a party of Indians,
who had been watching them, cunning-like, stole out of the thick trees
'n' rushed down to the canoe 'n' drew it to the shore. The girls
screamed, and their cries were heard at the fort.

"Night was falling. Three of the Indians took a little girl apiece,
and, looking back to the fort in the sunset, uttered a shriek of
defiance, such as would ha' made yer flesh creep, and disappe