be a great man some day. He never lost sight of that. And now he is a great man, but it has not made him proud. How sad his face is! It is as though he were always thinking of the suffering he longs to help.
(Lincoln enters and walks up to his side.)
Lincoln (gently),—My dear boy, I have come to see you. I hear that you are one of our Green Mountain boys.
Scott (in a frightened whisper),—Yes, sir.
Lincoln,—Tell me about your home, my boy; are you a farmer's son?
Scott,—Yes, sir.
Lincoln,—And how did you spend your days in your Green Mountain home?
Scott,—When I wasn't at school, I helped my father on the farm. I was up with the sun in the morning, and was busy until it set. Then supper, and off to bed, for I would be so tired and sleepy that I couldn't keep awake another minute.
Lincoln,—Have you a mother, my boy?
Scott,—Yes, sir; and I love her very dearly. Here is her picture.
(The boy's voice chokes as he takes a picture out of his bosom and shows it to Lincoln.)
