Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1857-05-27


own hands; and with many tear and sob,
tprned ourselves away from the cabin where
VOID been raised-the Indians had killed our IA
tber long before, and we'd nothing to keep us
and so we went out to seek our fortunes. My
brother. he took down to St. Louis, and got mar
ried down there som'ers; and just went where
the wind blowed, and when I'd scraped money
enouph together, cum back and bought few
acres of land around my mothers old cabin, for
the place where I'd lain her bones was sacred,
ike. Well. in the course of time, it turned up
right in the middle of Chicager. couldn't stanG
that loved my old mother too we'll to let ON
nibusses rattle over her grave, SO cum BACK a.
bout fifteen years ago, and quietly moved her
away to the buryin ground; and then Went
back to Texas, and wrote to an agent arterward
to sell my land What cost few hundred to
begin on. I sold for over forty thousand-if I'd q
kent it till now 'twould have been worth ten
times that; that's so, but got enough tort. |
soon turned that forty thousand into eighty
thousand, and that into twice as much, and SO
on. Till don't know nor don't care what I'm
worth; that's so. work hard, am the same
rough customer, remember every day of my life
what nv mother taught me, never drink, gam
ble nor fight; wish didn't swear and chew ;
but them's got to be kind of second natur' like,
and the only thing that troubles me is my mo-
ney-havnt got no wife nor children, and am
going now to hunt up my brother and his folks.
IF his boys is clever and industrious, amt
ashamed of my big boots and old fashioned ways,
and his gals is Young women and not ladies' il
they help their mother, and don't put on more n
two frocks day, I'll make 'em rich, every one
on 'em.
"Now. gentlemen, 'taint often I'm led to tell
on myself after this fashion. But these old
places. where trapped when was boy, made
me feel like child agin- and just felt like tell
ing these Youngsters here about the changes and
chances feller may meet in life, if he only tries
to make the most of himself
"But, boys" said he, turning to party OF
Young men, "there's something better than mo-
new. Get education; why, boys, if | had as
much larnin' as money, could be President in
1857 lust as G s-y Why, could buy up halt
the North and not miss it out of my pile But
ret arnin'; don't chaw tobacco; don't take to
| liouor: don't swear, and mind your mothers
that's the advice of real live Sucker; and If
YOU mind what say you may be men, (and 1t
aint every feller that wears a gratee and breech-
es that's q man by long ways.) Foler out her
counsels: never do thing that will make you
ashamed to meet her in heaven. Why, boys l
never done a bad thing but heard my mother s
voice reprovin' me; and 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,
bows: nothin' like mother-that's so.'
All this had passed while waiting to wood,
lust out of Chicago. The great man was swell
| ing with emotions called up from the dark shad-
ows of the past his big rough frame heaved like
great bllow upon the ocean. Tears sprang to
his deep set and earnest eyes-they sweled up
TO the brin-and swan round asking to be let
fall as tributes to his mothers memory-tributes
to the love of the past But he choked them
down. and humming snatch of an old ballad,
he thrust his hands down into his pockets, walk
ed back to the end of the car, pulled the gigan-
tic collar of his shaggy coat up around his ears,
buttoned it close, and leaned back against the
window in silence.
The cars ratified on. What mind was there {;
what giant intellect, sleeping, buried away
from light and usefulness by Il rubbish of preju-
dice, habit and custom-doing but half work, for
want of culture.
"a mute inglorious Milton" or rather Web
ster, going about the world, struggling with his
own soul, yet bound by chains of ignorance,
which precluded his doing but moiety of the
good it lay in his power to do.
Ali the way through our long, tedious journey,
he had been ever on the watch to do good. lie
gave up his seat by the fire to an Irish woman
and her child, and took one further back; soon
Young girl seated herself by his sde-as the
| night hours wore on, and she nodded wearlly,
he rose, spread his beautiful leopard skin, with
its soft rich lining, on the seat, made pillow OF
his carpet-bag, and insisted that she should lie
down and sleep.
"What will you do 2" said she naively.
"Never mind mel can stand up and sleep
! like buffalo; I'm used to it. That's so
little boy, pulled up from sound nap to
give place to incomers, was pacifed and made
happy by a handful of chestnuts and glowing
bit OF candy out of the big mans pocket. When
he left the cars for retreshment he brought back
his handful of pies, and distributed them among
weary and wayworn looking group-a mother
and seven little children, the eldest not twelve
years old, whose husband and father left the cars
at every stopping place, and returned more stu
pid and beastly each time, scolding the little
tired restless ones with thick tongue, and garing
his furious red eyes upon the poor grieved victim
of wife, like tiger upon his prey, because
she did not keep HER young ones still; "they
would disturb everybody" No bite OF refresh
ment, no exhilirating draught, no rest from that
fat, cross baby came to her all the long night
save when the big man stretched out his great
hands and took her boy for an hour, and let hun
play with his splendid hunting watch to keep
him quiet.
"ril give yer thousand dollars for him, said
he, as he handed him back to her arms.
''You may have the whole lot for that" an
swered the drunken father with a swine like
grunt.
'It's bargain" said the big man, "providin'
the mothers willing"
'Indade, sir, it's not the one of them can be
had for money" was the quiet yet determined
response of the mothers heart.
How kindly lie helped her off the cars when,
at the break of day, they came to their Journeys
end.
Thus all night long had he been attracting the
attention of the walking ones in the cars. But
his kindness and rough politeness would have
been forgotten by the mass of the passengers,
had he not stamped it upon our memories with
his gold.
81 wonder who he is2" "where did he get
on1" "what an interesting character" Hes
nobody's fool-knows more than he lets on >
education would spoil him." 'What rich furS. :"
''Did you notice what splendid watch he car
ries?" "He's some great man incog"
| Such were few OF the queries that passed
from lip to lip. But there came no answer; for
he who alone could have answered, sat crouched
| in his fur coat, seeming unconscious of all but
| his own deep thoughts.
"Chicagol" shouted the brakesman, and in an
instant all was confusion, and our hero was lost
in the crowd The next we saw of him was at
the baggage stand looking up bard box for a
sweet looking country girl, who was going to
learn the milliner's trade in the city. As we
passed to our carriage, we discovered him again,
holding an old man by one hand, while he grasp
ed the shoulder of the conductor of another train
with the other, getting for the deaf, grey haired
sire the right information as to the route he
shOnld take TO ret TO Whis 1artnr who lived near