appeared to make a new boy of him. Being now decently clad, he could attend school, which he had never previously done, and very soon he showed those indications of intelligence which led to his entering the profession of the law. Sometimes the boy had to walk four miles and a half to school, and when he reached it the instruction given him was not of a very high quality. Every winter, however, added something to his knowledge and widened his view.
His gratitude to this excellent woman was pleasing to witness. He used to speak of her as his "saintly mother," of his "angel of a mother," of "the woman who first made him feel like a human being," who taught him that there was something else for him in the world besides blows, ridicule, and shame. After his father's death he paid the mortgage on his farm, assisted her children, and sent her money as long as he lived.
After he was elected to the presidency, and before he started for Washington, he paid her a visit. She was then very old and infirm, and he marked the change in her appearance. She had been a very tall woman, straight as an Indian, handsome, sprightly, talkative, with beautiful hair that curled naturally; she was now bent and worn with labor and sorrow, and he bade her farewell with a presentiment that he should see her no more. She, too, was oppressed with a vague fear of the future. When Mr. Herndon, the law partner of Mr. Lincoln, visited her after the assassination of the president, she was not able to speak of him without tears.
"Abe," said she, "was a poor boy, and I can say, what scarcely one woman can say in a thousand, Abe never gave me a cross word or look, and never refused, in fact or appearance, to do anything I requested him. His mind and mine, what little I had, seemed to run together. I had a son John, who was raised with Abe.
