Lewisburg chronicle. [volume] (Lewisburg, Pa.) 1850-1859, 1857-07-10

w '"0 Sooo"y - ~ - WV ooS u~H HSe
cabin here, when Chicager was nowhere;
here she raised her boys-she couldn't
give them larnin', but she taught US bet
ter things than books can give-to be hon.
est, and useful, and industrious. She
taught US to be faithful and true; to stand
by friend, and be generous to an enemy.
It's thirty years, stranger, since We dug
her grave by the lake side with cur own
hands; /; aud, with many tear and sob,
turned ourselves away from the cabin
where we'd been raiscd-the Indians bad
killed our father long before, and we'd
nothing to keep us-and so We went to
seek our fortunes. My brother, he took
down to St. Louis, and got married down
there m'ers; and just went where the
wind blowed, aud when I'd scraped mon
ey enough together, l came back and
bought few acres of land around my
mothers old cabin, for the place where
Id lain her bones was sacred, like. Well,
in the course Of time, it turned right up
in the middle of Cbicager. I couldn't
stand that loved my old mother too
we'll to let omuibusses rattle over her
grave, so l cum back about fifteen years
ago, and quietly moved her away to the
buryin' ground; and then l went back to
Texas, and wrote to an agent arterward
to sell my land. Wha: cost few hun.
dred to begin on, l sold for over forty
thousand-if Id q kept it till now, it
would have been worth ten times that;
that's so, but got enough fort. I soon
turned that forty thousand into eighty
thousand, and that into twice as much,
and so on, till l don't know nor don't
care what I'm worth that's 50. l work
hard, am the same rough customer, re-
member every day Of my life what my
mother taught me; never drink, nor fight;
wish didn't swear and chaw but them
got to be kind second natur' like, aud
the only thing that troubles me is my
money-haven's got no wife nor children,
and Im going to hunt up my brother and
bis folks. If his boys is clever and in-
dus.rious, ain's ashamed of my big boots
and old fashioned ways, and his gals is
young women, and not ladies'; if they
help their mother, and don't put on more'n
two frocks day, Ill make 'em rich, ev-
SNOW; gentlemen, tain, Orten N led to
tell on myself after this fashion. But these
old places, where l trapped when l was
boy, made me feel like child agin-and
l just felt like telling these youngsters here
abou. the changes and chances feller may
meet in life, if he only tries to make the
most of himself.
"But, boys" said be, turning to parry
Of young men, "there's something better
than money. Get Education. Why, boys,
if I had as much larnin' as money, l
could be President in 1860 just as easy.
Why, l could buy up half the North, and
not miss it from my pile. But get larnin';
don't chaw tobacco; don't take to liquor;
don't swear; and mind your mothers
that's the advice of a real live Speaker;
and if you mind what l say you may be
men, (and it amt every fellow that wears
q goatee and breeches, that's man, by q
long ways.) Foller out her counsels f.;
never do thing that will make you asham-
ed to meet her in heaven. Why, boys, l
never done bad thing but I heard my
mothers voice reprovin' me; and l never
done good thing and made good move,
but I've seemed to hear her say, That's
right, Jack, and that has been the best Of
all. Nothin' like mother, boys; nothin'
like a mother-that's So"
All this had passed while waiting to
wood. just outside Of Chicago. The great
man was swelling with emotions called up
from the dark shadows of the past (; his
big, rough, heavy frame heaved like great
billow upon the ocean. Tears sprang to
his deep set and earnest eyes-they swel!ed
up to the brim-and swan around asking
to be let fall as tributes to his mothers
memory-tributes to the love of the past.
But be choked them down, and humming
q snatch of an Old ballad, he thrust bis
hands down into his pockets, walked back
to the end of the car, pulled the gigantic
collar of his shaggy coat up around bis
ears, buttoned it close, and leaned back
against the window in silence.
The cars ratified on. What mind was
there what giant intellect, sleeping, ,bu-
ried away from light and usefulness by
rubbish Of prejudice, habit and custom
doing but half work for want Of culture
ga mute, inglorious MiltoD," or rather
Webster, going about the world, struggling
with his own soul, yet bound in chains of
ignorance, which precluded bis doing but
a moiety Of the good in his power to do.
All the way on our long, tedious journey,
4 l. Al >k~L A. IL o1I