Little Abe | Page 6

a wild and wicked young man. He
never sank into those low habits of which some are guilty, who neglect
the appearance and cleanliness of their own person, and go about on
Sundays and weekdays unwashed and in their working attire. Abe had
more respect for himself, and was always looked upon among his
friends as a dandy. I have heard old people say he was a proud young
man, and withal of a very sprightly appearance.
Abe took great pride in his personal appearance, and when not in his
working clothes he usually wore a blue coat in the old dress style, such
as "Father Taylor" would call "a gaf-topsail jacket." There were the
usual and attractive brass buttons to the coat, drab knee-breeches, blue
stockings, low tied shoes with buckles; and really everyone who knew

Abe thought he was a proud young man. Perhaps he was, but it is not
always an indication of pride when young people bestow more care
upon their appearance than do their fellows; it may arise from a desire
to appear respectable and be respected. No one will think I am trying to
extenuate the foolish and extravagant love of dress which some people
show, who adorn themselves in silks or broadcloth, for which they have
to go into debt without the means of paying. Some are most unsparing
in the way they lavish money on their own persons, but only ask them
to bestow something on a charitable institution, or on the cause of God,
and how poor they are; how careful not to be guilty of the sin of
extravagance; how anxious not to be generous before being just.
There is a propriety which ought to be observed with regard to dress as
well as other things, and it will commend itself to the judgment as well
as to the eye. Some young people are the very opposite to Abe; they
bestow scanty attentions on their appearance,--how can they think that
any one else will pay them any regard? Their appearance is like the
index to a book; you see in a minute what the work contains, and so
you may generally form a correct idea of the character of an individual
by his habitual personal appearance. "Character shows through," is a
good saying, and would make a profitable study for most of us; it
shows through the skin, the dress, the manners, the speech, through
everything; people ought to remember this, and it would have a good
influence on their conduct.
A few years after his mother's death his father married again, and
removed about a mile further up the hill, to a place called Berry Brow.
This village is situated about two miles out of Huddersfield, and is the
notable place where "little Abe" spent the greater part of his days. It
stands on the brow of a hill which bounds one side of the wealthy and
picturesque valley that winds along from Huddersfield to Penistone. It
boasts one main street, which sidles along down the hill-side with here
and there a clever curve, just enough to prevent you from taking a
full-length view of the street; on and down it goes, the houses on the
one side looking down on those opposite, and evidently having the
advantages of being higher up in the world than their neighbours, until
it terminates in the highroad leading out of the village towards Honley

and Penistone.
Run your eye down over the breast of the hill, and you have a
delightful landscape picture, comprising almost everything which an
artist would deem desirable for an effective painting, and a little to
spare. There, nearly at the bottom of the gradient, stands the handsome
old village church, with its tower and pinnacles, reaching up among the
tall trees; and around it, a consecrated enclosure, guarding the
monuments of the dead, which are mingled with melancholy shrubs,
planted there by hands of mourners whose memories of the departed
are fitly symbolized by those perpetual evergreens. On this side and
beyond the sleeping graveyard, on either arm, are scattered, in pretty
confusion, the houses of those who have retired from the main street for
the sake of a little garden plot or other convenience. Now there is some
pretence at a terrace, numbering two or three dwellings; then an abrupt
break, and houses stand independent and alone as if quietly
contemplating the lovely scenery of valley, hill, and forest, which are
visible from that spot. Down there in the bottom of the valley, stand
those mighty many-windowed cloth mills, whose great flat,
unspeakable faces, seem to be covered all over with spectacles, out of
which they can look for ever without winking; there the men, women,
and children, born and bred in the hills, find honest toil with