One day a letter had arrived
from John Hanks, a cousin, who had gone to Illinois to live. The soil
was richer there, the letter said. Why didn't Tom come, too, and bring
his family? He would find it easier to make a living. Even the name of
the river near John's home had a pleasant sound. It was called the
Sangamon--an Indian word meaning "plenty to eat."
"We're going," Tom decided. "I'm going to sell this farm and buy
another. Do you want to come with us, Abe?"
Two years had passed since Abe's return from New Orleans. Two years of
hard work. Two years of looking forward to his next birthday. He was
nearly twenty-one and could leave home if he wanted to.
"Well, Pa--" he hesitated.
Sarah was watching him, waiting for his answer.
"I'll come with you," said Abe. "I'll stay long enough to help you get
the new farm started."
There were thirteen people in the Lincoln party: Tom and Sarah, Abe and
Johnny, Betsy and Dennis Hanks who had been married for several years,
Mathilda and her husband, and two sets of children. They made the
journey in three big wagons, traveling over frozen roads and crossing
icy streams.
Pages:
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91