Fremont journal. [volume] (Fremont, Sandusky County [Ohio]) 1853-1866, 1857-05-22

tirely, but me and mother held a corcus, |
and decided that she was getting old and
blind like, it took too long, and cost too
much to sew up the legs of my trousers,
and so put stop to it and concluded that
six feet five would do for feller that could
MT afford the expensive luxury Of wife to
make his brooches. 1t was only my love
for my mother that stopped my growth
If I'd a had an idea Of sewing machine,
there's no telling what might have DONE"
"You have so many gold pieces in your
pocket, you can afford to get your trousers
made now. Why don't you and your moth
hold another caucus, and sec what you can
do9 If she would let you expand yourself,
you might sell out to Barnum, and mako al
fortune travelling with Tom Thumb, and
take the old woman along"
"Strangcr," said tho rough, great man,
and his whole face doomed up with a min
gled expression of pain and pride. "Strang-
er, l spoke a word here didn't mean to !;
slightly word, like, about my mother, l
would give all tho gold in my pocket to
bring her back for one hour TO look upon
this country as it is now. She had her
nIcH Mho uONhSiS
here she raised her boys-sho couldn't give
them larnin', but she taught us better
things than books can give; to be honest,
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
lyears, stranger, since we dug her grave by
the lake side with our own hands; and with
many tear and sob, turned ourselves away
from the cabin where we'd been raised-the
Indians had 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 somers; and just went where
the wind blowed and when scraped money
enough together, | cum back and bought 8
flew acres of land around my mothers ole
cabin, for the place where I'd lain her bones
was sacred, like. Well, in the course of time
it turned up right in tho middle of Chica
ger. couldn't stand that, loved my ole
mother too well to let omnibuses rattle owe
her grave, so cum back about fifteen year
ago and quietly moved her away to The
buryn' ground; and then 1 went back tC
Texas, and wrote to an agent afterward t.
self my land. What cost few hundred t.
begin on, sold for over forty thousand
I'd kept it till now, twould have been wortl
t ten times that; that's so, but got enough
fort. soon turned that forty thousand in
to eighty thousand, and that into twice a'
, much, and so on, till l don't know nor dom
care what am worth; that's so. worl
. hard, am the same rough customer, remom
. Der every day of my life what my mothe
G taught mo; never drink, nor fight; wish
didn't swear and chaw; but them's got to b
!" kind second natur', like, and the onl
c thing that troubles me is my monoy--hay
S Mt got no wife nor children, and I'm goin,
: now to hunt up my brother and his folks
d If his boys is clever and industrious, ain
: ashamed of my boots and old fashioned way
o and his gals is young women and not ladies
/, if they help their mother, and don't put o,
o more'n two frocks day, I'll mako em rich
/ every ono on 'em.
n "Now, gentlemen, faint often I'm led +
= tell on myself after this fashion. But thos
e old places where trapped when l was
Il boy, made me feel like child again--an
l. l just felt like telling these youngsters her
about the changes and chances fcller ma
:; meet in life, if he only tries to make tn
l most of himself
o "But, boys" said he, turning to part
J. of young men, "there's something better tha
G money. Get education. Why, boys, if
had as much larnin' as money, l could b
a President in 1857 just easy. Why,
y could buy up half the North, and not mis-
!" it out of my pile. But get larnin'; don
a chaw Tobacco; don't take to liquor; don
y swear, and mind your mothers-thafs tn
N advice of real live Sucker; and if yo
= mind what say, you may be men, (and
ID amt every fellow that wears godtee ar
= breeches that's man by long ways.)
is Foller out her counsels; never do a thir
III that will make you ashamed to meet h
er in heaven. Why, boys, | never done a ba
n. thing but l heard my mothers voice repro
IN in me; and never did good thing an
lr made good move, but I've seemed to he;
a her say That's right, jack and that has bee
e. the best of ALL Nothin' like mother, boy
TX nothin' like mother--that's So"
C. All this had passed while waiting
tn wood, just out of Chicago. The great mi
lie was swelling with emotion, called up fro
lg the dark shadows of the past; his big rou!
IS frame hoaved like great billow upon t
ocean. Tears sprang to his deep set a
II, earnest eyes-they swelIed up the brim-
D. and swan round asking to be let fall as t
~ butes to his mothers memory--tributes
,g the love of tho past. But he choked the
down, and humming snatch of an old bs
ze lad, he thrust his hands down into his poe
v cts, walked back to the end of the car, pr
4ir led the gigantic collar of his shaggy coat !
cd around his ears, buttoned it close, and lea
ty ed back against the window in silence.
The cars ratified on. What mind W
IL there; what giant intellect sleeping, bl
ried away from light and usefulness by
a rubbish Of prejudice, habit and custom.
ed doing but half work for want of culture.
"A mute inglorious Milton" or rath
)" Webster, going about the world, strugglil
We with his own soul, yet bound by chains
ignorance, which precluded his doing b
l moiety of the good it lay in his power
nd do.
lis All the way through cur long tedio
es journey, he was ever on the watch to
ct good. He gave up his seat by the fire to
to Irish woman and her child, and took o
8; farther back; soon young girl seated h
in self by his side; as the night hours wore {