dwellers on the frontier. "Internal improvements," as they were
called--the building of roads and clearing out of streams so that
men and women who lived in remote places might be able to travel
back and forth and carry on trade with the rest of the world--
became a burning question in Illinois. There was great need of
such improvements; and in this need young Lincoln saw his
opportunity.

It was by way of the Sangamon River that he entered politics.
That uncertain watercourse had already twice befriended him. He
had floated on it in flood-time from his father's cabin into
Springfield. A few weeks later its rapidly falling waters landed
him on the dam at Rutledge's mill, introducing him effectively if
unceremoniously to the inhabitants of New Salem. Now it was again
to play a part in his life, starting him on a political career
that ended only in the White House. Surely no insignificant
stream has had a greater influence on the history of a famous
man. It was a winding and sluggish creek, encumbered with
driftwood and choked by sand-bars; but it flowed through a
country already filled with ambitious settlers, where the roads
were atrociously bad, becoming in rainy seasons wide seas of
pasty black mud, and remaining almost impassable for weeks at a
time. After a devious course the Sangamon found its way into the
Illinois River, and that in turn flowed into the Mississippi.
Most of the settlers were too new to the region to know what a
shallow, unprofitable stream the Sangamon really was, for the
deep snows of 183031 and of the following winter had supplied it
with an unusual volume of water. It was natural, therefore, that
they should regard it as the heaven-sent solution of their
problem of travel and traffic with the outside world. If it could