ABRAHAM LINCOLN: RAIL SPLITTER

CHARACTERS

ABRAHAM LINCOLN NANCY LINCOLN TOM BUSH AMY ROBY POLLY PRENTICE JASON BROWN LUCY BROWN FRANCOIS DURAND LITTLE JOHN LINCOLN NOCTAH, an Indian

SCENE: The Lincoln kitchen and living-room. Place: Little Pigeon Creek, Indiana. Time, 1823.

The room is bright and clean, showing both thrift and poverty. There are two windows in background, with well-mended, faded curtains of the cheapest cotton. Between these two windows a stout door, which gives on the outside road. On the door is tacked a raccoon skin.

By the window at right a plain pine table and chair. The end of the table is set with a plate, knife, fork, drinking-cup, etc., for one person, and there are corndodgers in generous quantities, and a jug of molasses.

In the middle of the right wall there is a wide-mouthed fireplace, with black andirons, several iron pots, and a skillet. Above the hearth strips of leather nailed to the wall serve as holders for empty powder-horns, knives, etc. There is a pine bench by the hearth, placed so that those sitting on it face the audience. Also a three-legged pine stool. Beyond the hearth, towards the background, a dresser with a few dishes.

Fastened to the wall, left foreground, is a pine shelf on which stand Abraham Lincoln's books, well-worn copies of "Robinson Crusoe" "Aesop's Fables," "Pilgrim's Progress," etc., etc. Above this shelf a clock, battered yet adequate. A bearskin rug on the floor. The whole scene is homely, peaceful, intimate.

The embers on the hearth give out a dull glow which leaves the room in semi-darkness, yet lights up several objects by the hearthstone—namely, a heap of pine cones, some dried spice-wood bushes, a rude corn-popper, a snow-shovel, and a neatly-mended tongs.

In the frosty out-of-doors the wind blows gustily from time to time. Otherwise the room is quite still, save for the ticking of the clock, which points to half-past seven. For a moment after the curtain's rise the stage is deserted. Then come two brisk knocks at the door, and it is opened from without by Polly Prentice, who first thrusts in her head, looks about, and then crosses the threshold, speaking back over her shoulder to Amy Roby and Tom Bush. Polly wears a scarlet cloak, and her cheeks are as red as apples. All carry lanterns.

POLLY.

There's no one home. Wherever can Nancy be? She said if she wasn't here we were to wait for her. Come in, Amy, and you, too, Tom Bush, and be careful to close the door. (All enter.) The fire is nearly spent. B-rrrrrr! It's a cold night for this time of year. My fingers are tingling. That's right, Tom, put on some spice bushes for a blaze. I'll put my lantern over here by yours, Amy. What time is it?

AMY.

Half-past seven. I wish that Nancy would hurry. The corn-husking begins at eight, and we are to call for Jason Brown and Lucy before we start.

TOM (warming his hands).

Yes, and come back here to have Abe go with us. He's been out in the woods all day, swinging that ax of his. I could hear him down by the spring.

POLLY.

There's his supper set out for him—corn-dodgers and molasses.

AMY (primly).

Polly, it isn't nice to look at things in other people's houses!

POLLY (saucily).

You looked at the clock only a minute ago, and I'm sure Abe's supper is as easily seen as the clock is! Easier, too, if you happen to be glancing that way. I wish that Nancy would hurry!

TOM (as they seat themselves about fire).

And I wish that Abe would hurry. He must be trying for luck.

POLLY.

Luck?

TOM.

Yes, you know they say that rails split by moonlight bring folks good fortune. Not that Abe needs good fortune—he's lucky at everything he puts his hand to. He can shoulder an ax and swing it better than any one I ever saw, and as for his books—there's no one who can beat him.

POLLY.

He's always at them—even after a hard day's work.

TOM.

There's nothing he won't read if he can get his hands on it, and at spelling he's head of his class every time.

AMY (amused).

You'd think he was a hero, Tom, the way you talk.

TOM (eyes a-light).

Well, sometimes he does seem like a hero to me, he's so strong and clever and kind. At school people are always coming to him with their disputes, and out of school, too. Even the Indians respect his knowledge. And with it all he can see a joke as soon as anybody, and isn't a bit puffed up. And then I like him, because even though he's quiet and it takes a long time for him to get angry, when he does get angry it's on the right side. I think some day he'll be a great lawyer. Come, Amy, what do you think he'll be?

AMY (mischievously).

Well, as you think he knows so much—almost as much as Mr. Andrew Crawford—I think perhaps he'll be a teacher.

TOM.

What do you think he'll be, Polly?

POLLY (absorbed in examining corn-popper, tongs, etc.).

I don't know. Oh, see! He's mended the tongs. I saw him working at it the other day. (Facing about, laughing.) I'll tell you what I think he'll be—he'll be a mender! (To Amy.) Look out, Amy, that's Abe's precious snow-shovel. Dear knows why he has it out this early.

AMY.

Because paper is expensive, goosey. By the light of some pine cones he can figure on this, and then scrape it off again.

TOM (admiringly).

Nobody but Abe would think of such a thing. I tell you the day will come when we'll be proud we knew him.

AMY (gaily).

Bravo, Tom! You'll be making speeches soon, or lead in our next debate.

ABRAHAM LINCOLN (speaking from outer doorway, ax on shoulder, a gaunt, rawboned, kindly-eyed lad).

Who said debate—?

AMY (jumping up with a burst of delighted laughter).

There he is now! (To Lincoln.) If any word would bring you, that one would, I know!

POLLY.

Nancy isn't here. She said we were to wait. Go on with your supper, Abe, and don't mind us. I know you're hungry.

LINCOLN.

Thank you, I will. (Puts by ax and goes towards table.) Hungry! I feel half-starved! And my muscles are as stiff as boards. (Turns.) Here, Tom, I'm a fine host—neglecting my guests! There's the corn-popper, and (diving hand into cupboard and bringing out a bag) there's the corn!

NANCY (appearing in the outer door with Francois Durand, and little John Henry).

And here's Nancy with a bag of salt, just in time. I'm glad you all waited for me. Come to the fire, Francois.

FRANCOIS (shyly to all, as they kindly make way for him).

Bon soir! Bon soir!

NANCY (rattling on).

B-rrrrr! It's chilly. It's nice to be in by the fire. How's your supper, Abe? I fixed it for you.

LINCOLN (genially).

It's fine, Nancy, thank you. (Goes back to table and half-smiles, dryly-humorous.) And the best thing about it is that there's enough of it! (To John.) Well, John, how are you?

JOHN (drawling, wide-eyed, childlike).

Did you see any bears in the woods?

LINCOLN (with a twinkle, solemnly imitating him).

No, I didn't see any bea-r-s in the woods; but I brought home some nuts for you! (Gives them.)

[Francois, under pantomimic urging from the group around the fire, has taken up his fiddle, tunes it, and from a mere ghost of an air breaks into a gay tune. Little John Henry takes the corn-popper, swaying it in time to the music, while the rest, with the exception of Lincoln, do a step or so of an old-fashioned reel. Lincoln watches them as he eats. John watches them also, to the detriment of the corn-popping.

NANCY (pausing in dance, with little shriek of dismay).

Oh, mercy! The corn! I smell it burning!

ALL (gathering about her, and thus hiding corn-popper from view of audience).

Is it burnt? No! Yes! No! Oh, it's saved. (Lincoln, who has risen, goes back to his supper.)

JOHN.

I didn't mean to!

NANCY (relenting).

But when Francois plays the fiddle you can't think of anything else, eh?

AMY (as they group themselves in fire-glow).

Sit over here, Nancy. Isn't the corn splendid?

LINCOLN (from where he is sitting).

Any news, Tom? How's the wolf-hunting getting on? Anybody got one?

TOM.

I heard in the store to-night that Hugh Foster had killed one. It may be only a rumor. You're not fond of hunting, are you, Abe?

LINCOLN.

Oh, I try at it once in a while, Tom, but I'm not very keen. You boys get more out of it than I do.

TOM.

Remember the raccoon hunt we had last summer?

LINCOLN.

Yes, I remember. (Facing about.) To tell you the truth, Tom, I don't mind if things have to be killed outright; but I hate to see them in cages. I like to see 'em free.

TOM.

I know you do, Abe.

POLLY (merrily).

Oh, Abe, before you came we were all guessing——

LINCOLN.

Guessing?

POLLY (nodding).

What you were going to be. Tom said you'd be a lawyer. Amy said you'd be a great teacher, and I said you'd be a mender!

LINCOLN (slowly).

A mender—! I never once thought of being a mender, Polly.

NANCY (with a little cry).

Polly Prentice, look! Look what the time is! Ten minutes to eight! We'll be late for the corn-husking.

LINCOLN (surprised).

Corn-husking?

POLLY (dancing about).

Didn't you know there was to be one? Oh, I thought we'd surprise you! We're all going. You, too.

[Lincoln shakes his head.

POLLY (pouting).

That means you think you have to study. Oh, Abe—!

NANCY (aside).

Don't tease him, Polly. After we've called for Jason and Lucy we'll come back this way—gracious! Look how the minutes are flying! We must be starting. Where did I put my cloak? Oh, here it is! Hurry, Amy!

[They all dart out the door with every sign of haste, little John following as fast as his legs can carry him. Sounds of laughter from without, growing fainter.

LINCOLN (to himself).

A corn-husking—!

[Shakes his head. Goes over and gets a book and stretches out in front of fire. A pause.

NOCTAH (quietly entering).

How!

LINCOLN (turning).

How!

[Noctah, with the quiet of an accustomed visitor, sits on bench by fire: pulls out a long pipe.

LINCOLN (after a pause, looking up).

Supper?

NOCTAH.

No. Noctah only want to warm at fire. Like to watch Lincoln. Lincoln get wisdom out of books.

LINCOLN (ruefully).

Not so much as I'd like to, Noctah. The books are so few that it's just learning by littles [Footnote: Lincoln's own words.]

NOCTAH.

Other people much talk. Lincoln heap silent: heap thinking. (Taps forehead.) Other people try to cheat Indian. Lincoln heap honest.

LINCOLN (twinkling).

Oh, come now, Noctah. I guess we're all pretty honest hereabout.

[A pause, during which Lincoln stares at the fire, above his book.

NOCTAH.

Lincoln look at fire. See visions of future.

LINCOLN.

There won't be any future if I don't work for it!

[Studies again.

NOCTAH.

Umph!

[Smokes pipe: a silence.

LINCOLN (after a moment or so, looking up).

Anything I can do for you, Noctah?

NOCTAH.

No. Noctah want nothing.

[Another short silence. Noctah smokes. Lincoln studies. Then Noctah moves towards door.

LINCOLN (looking up).

Going, Noctah? You know you're welcome to stay if you want to. (Noctah continues impassively towards door.) Well, then, good-night.

NOCTAH.

Good-night.

[Exit Noctah.

[A moment later there comes the sound of Francois' fiddle, and the same gay group breaks into the room, augmented by Jason and Lucy Brown. They surround Lincoln, who has risen.

TOM.

Now, Abe, you know you like a husking better than anything else.

LINCOLN.

Better than most things, Tom; but not better than all.

[Looks toward his books.

JASON (coaxing).

Come On, Abe, it's no fun without you.

LINCOLN (decidedly).

Not to-night, Jason.

FRANCOIS.

You'll miss ze husking, Abe.

LINCOLN.

I know that, Francois; but then I'll gain—so much else! (Looks again towards his beloved books.) There's husking to do there, Francois.

NANCY.

You'll be sitting here all lonely, without any friends.

LINCOLN (with one of his rare smiles).

Without any friends—! Why, Nancy!

[Glances towards his books for a third time.

POLLY (with a sniff).

He means that he'd rather have Defoe and Bunyan and Aesop than us.

LINCOLN.

Now, Polly.

POLLY (with conviction).

You would. You know you would.

JASON.

Then you're not coming?

LINCOLN.

No, boys, I'm not coming. I tell you, it's like splitting rails. Once you get tired or give up, your work gets the better of you. I mean to stick to what I've set out to do.

TOM (regretfully).

Well, then, good-night, Abe.

LINCOLN (with the utmost friendliness).

Good-night. Good-night. (With a general stir and in the midst of a chorus of leave-taking, he sees them to the door.) Watch your lantern, Amy. Good-night. Good-night, all.

[For a moment he stands and there comes to him the sound of laughter and retreating footsteps, and a gay lilt from Francois fiddle. As the sound grows fainter and fainter he crosses resolutely to the hearth, tosses on a cone or two, places the shovel where it will be within easy reach, and stretches himself on the floor before the fire.

From outside a sudden gust of wind brings clearly a last snatch of the air that Francois is playing in the distance. Lincoln raises his bead and listens, smiles whimsically to himself, and then opens his books.

LINCOLN.

And now for the husking!

[He lies full length, absorbedly studying in the fire-glow as the curtain falls.

COSTUMES

ABRAHAM LINCOLN. Blue flannel shirt. Faded black knee-breeches and much-worn coat. Tall boots which he wears for out-of-doors, and changes for old slippers.

POLLY. A brown woolen dress and scarlet cloak. Hair worn in quaint fashion with combs.

NANCY LINCOLN. Dark-scarlet woolen dress, and brown cloak. All the dresses of the girls are of the simplest. Their cloaks likewise.

AMY ROBY. Deep-blue woolen dress. Little white apron with pockets. Dark-blue cloak with hood.

LUCY BROWN. Dark-green woolen dress and cloak.

TOM BUSH. Dark-brown flannel shirt. Dark-blue knee-breeches.

JASON BROWN. Faded red flannel shirt. Dark-blue knee-breeches.

FRANCOIS DURAND. Tan-colored flannel shirt. Dark-brown knee-breeches. Crimson sash-belt.

NOCTAH. The usual Indian costume of buckskin. Fringed tunic. Long trousers. Moccasins, or imitation moccasins of khaki. (The suit should be of khaki also—the nearest imitation of buckskin.) He should wear a wig of long, coarse black hair. If this wig cannot be had, simulate it thus: make a tight-fitting skull-cap of black cheesecloth. Stitch it where the parting in the hair should come. Make two braids of plaited black cheesecloth, and fasten them to the skullcap so that they will fall over the ears. They should be bound with a few wisps of red and green. Noctah wears neither war-paint nor feathers, but his face and hands should be stained brown.