A STRANGER AT FIVE-POINTS
ONE afternoon in February, 1860, when the Sunday School of
the Five-Point House of Industry in New York was assembled,
the teacher saw a most remarkable man enter the room and
take his place among the others. This stranger was tall, his
frame was gaunt and sinewy, his head powerful, with
determined features overcast by a gentle melancholy.
He listened with fixed attention to the exercises. His face
expressed such genuine interest that the teacher,
approaching him, suggested that he might have something to
say to the children.
The stranger accepted the invitation with evident pleasure.
Coming forward, he began to speak and at once fascinated
every child in the room. His language was beautiful yet
simple, his tones were musical, and he spoke with deep
The faces of the boys and girls drooped sadly
 as he uttered warnings, and then brightened with joy as he
spoke cheerful words of promise. Once or twice he tried to
close his remarks, but the children shouted: "Go on! Oh! do
go on!" and he was forced to continue.
At last he finished his talk and was leaving the room
quietly when the teacher begged to know his name.
"Abra'm Lincoln, of Illinois," was the modest response.
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