table made by him is still preserved as part of the furniture of the
church to which he belonged.

[Sidenote: MS. letter from the Rev. T.V. Robertson, pastor of the
Little Pigeon Baptist church.]

Such a woman as Sarah Bush could not be careless of so important a
matter as the education of her children, and they made the best use of
the scanty opportunities the neighborhood afforded. "It was a wild
region," writes Mr. Lincoln, in one of those rare bits of
autobiography which he left behind him, "with many bears and other
wild animals still in the woods. There were some schools so-called,
but no qualification was ever required of a teacher beyond 'readin',
writin', and cipherin' to the Rule of Three.' If a straggler supposed
to understand Latin happened to sojourn in the neighborhood, he was
looked upon as a wizard. There was absolutely nothing to excite
ambition for education." But in the case of this ungainly boy there
was no necessity of any external incentive. A thirst for knowledge as
a means of rising in the world was innate in him. It had nothing to do
with that love of science for its own sake which has been so often
seen in lowly savants, who have sacrificed their lives to the pure
desire of knowing the works of God. All the little learning he ever
acquired he seized as a tool to better his condition. He learned his
letters that he might read books and see how men in the great world
outside of his woods had borne themselves in the fight for which he
longed. He learned to write, first, that he might have an
accomplishment his playmates had not; then that he might help his
elders by writing their letters, and enjoy the feeling of usefulness
which this gave him; and finally that he might copy what struck him in
his reading and thus make it his own for future use. He learned to