A year or more later, when the Lincoln family had crossed the river to
Indiana, there was added to the "library" a copy of the revised Statutes
of the State. The Weems's _Washington_ had been borrowed by Lincoln from
a neighbouring farmer. The boy kept it at night under his pillow, and on
the occasion of a storm, the water blew in through the chinks of the
logs that formed the wall of the cabin, drenching the pillow and the
head of the boy (a small matter in itself) and wetting and almost
spoiling the book. This was a grave misfortune. Lincoln took his
damaged volume to the owner and asked how he could make payment for the
loss. It was arranged that the boy should put in three days' work
shucking corn on the farm. "Will that work pay for the book or only for
the damage?" asked the boy. It was agreed that the labour of three days
should be considered sufficient for the purchase of the book.

The text of this biography and the words of each valued volume in the
little "library" were absorbed into the memory of the reader. It was his
practice when going into the field for work, to take with him
written-out paragraphs from the book that he had at the moment in mind
and to repeat these paragraphs between the various chores or between the
wood-chopping until every page was committed by heart. Paper was scarce
and dear and for the boy unattainable. He used for his copying bits of
board shaved smooth with his jack-knife. This material had the advantage
that when the task of one day had been mastered, a little labour with
the jack-knife prepared the surface of the board for the work of the
next day. As I read this incident in Lincoln's boyhood, I was reminded
of an experience of my own in Louisiana. It happened frequently during
the campaign of 1863 that our supplies were cut off through the capture
of our waggon trains by that active Confederate commander, General
Taylor. More than once, we were short of provisions, and, in one