mill with a grist on the horse’s back, that he—‘ The Mill Boy of the Slashes,’ as he was called—would become one of the most renowned men of the land.”

“That is so; and I admire the man for his noble efforts to rise in the world. He made himself just what he became,” said Lincoln.

“And that is what you, and every other young man, will do, if you ever make a mark. ‘Self-made or never made’ is the adage. It is of little consequence what advantages a youth possesses, unless he is disposed to improve them; and I am almost of the opinion that it matters but little how few the privileges a young man enjoys, if he only possesses the energy and industry to make the most of them.”

“And the ability, you might add,” suggested Lincoln.

“Perhaps so, if you choose. But the history of our country abounds with examples of these self-made men, as poor and unknown as Henry Clay was. But now I must go; remember my counsel, and decide rightly.”

“Many thanks for your interest,” answered Lincoln. “I shall ponder the subject, and feel grateful to you, whether I decide as you recommend or not.”

Lincoln decided to study law. He concluded that he must possess some ability for the legal profession when such a man as Mr. Stuart advised him to enter it. More than any other influence, the counsel of Mr. Stuart determined him to become a lawyer.

There was much joy among Lincoln’s friends in New Salem when they learned of his wise decision. All were ready to render him any assistance possible. His own familiar associates soon found that his studies would interfere constantly with that social intercourse which they had enjoyed so much. To pursue his studies, while earning a livelihood by surveying, would require an amount of industry, perseverance, and self-denial of which they understood but little.

“I am as fond of society as either of you,” remarked Lincoln to several of his companions who were discussing the question together at one time; “but I must deny myself this enjoyment if I would succeed in my plans. It is pretty clear that I must do two things: I must practise economy of time and money, and be as industrious as possible.”

“A solemn view of the future,” remarked Alley, in a playful way.

“And a correct one, too, I guess,” said Green.

“Correct or not,” responded Lincoln, “it is the course I have mapped out for myself, and I must not depart from it.”

This decision was in response to an appeal to engage in a definite pastime that would interrupt his studies for a whole evening.

“I shall walk to Springfield and back to-morrow,” he continued. “Esquire Stuart has offered to loan me law-books, and I shall go for some to-morrow.”

Here is an illustration of his self-denial, and the decision with which he adhered to his purpose. He canvassed the whole subject in the beginning, and he resolved to spend no evenings in social entertainments. He saw that he must do it from sheer necessity, as he would be obliged to use up the night hours much more economically than the laws of health would permit. And now he was inflexible. His purpose was fixed, and no allurements or promises of pleasure could make him swerve a hair’s breadth therefrom.