File:The southerner - a romance of the real Lincoln (1913) (14580170268).jpg

Identifier: southernerroman1505dixo (find matches)
Title: The southerner : a romance of the real Lincoln
Year: 1913 (1910s)
Authors: Dixon, Thomas, 1864-1946
Subjects: Lincoln, Abraham, 1809-1865
Publisher: New York London : D. Appleton & Co.
Contributing Library: Lincoln Financial Foundation Collection
Digitizing Sponsor: The Institute of Museum and Library Services through an Indiana State Library LSTA Grant

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r. He stopped suddenly, walked to the bench at whichhis father was working and laid by his side the firstpins he had whittled. I cant do it, Pa, he gasped. I just cant makethe nails for her coffin. I feel like somebodys drivinem through my heart! The rugged face was lighted with tenderness as heslowly answered: Why, we must make it, Boy—hits the last thingwe kin do ter show our love fur her—ter make it allsmooth an purty outen this fine dark wood. Yerwouldnt put her in the ground an throw the colddirt right on her face, would you? The slim figure shivered: No—no—I wouldnt do that! Yes, Ill help—we must make it beautiful, mustnt we? And then he went back to the pitiful task. They dug her grave, these loving hands, fatherand son and orphan waif, on a gentle hill in the deepwoods. As the sun sank in a sea of scarlet cloudsnext day, they lowered the coffin. The father liftedhis voice in a simple prayer and the Boy took hissisters hand and led her in silence back to the lonely 88
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Be a man among men for your mothers sake- PROLOGUE cabin. He couldnt stay to see them throw the dirtover her. He couldnt endure it. He had heard of ghosts in graveyards, and he won-dered vaguely if such things could be true. He hopedit was. When the others were asleep, just before day,he slipped noiselessly from his bed and made his wayto her grave. The waning moon was shining in cold whitesplendor. The woods were silent. He watched andwaited and hoped with half-faith and half-fear thathe might see her radiant form rise from the dead. A leaf rustled behind him and he turned with a thrillof awful joy. He wasnt afraid. Hed clasp her in hisarms if he could. With firm step and head erect, eyeswide and nostrils dilated, he walked straight into theshadows to see and know. And there, standing in a spot of pale moonlight,stood his dog looking up into his eyes with patient,loving sympathy. He hadnt shed a tear since herdeath. Now the flood tide broke the barriers. Hesank to the ground, slipped

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