Raftsman's journal. [volume] (Clearfield, Pa.) 1854-1948, 1857-08-12

- ou Aafe 50 many Soiu poSh-
ct, you can afford to get your trousers made
now. Why don't you and your mother caucus,
and see what you can do? If she would let
you expand yourself you might sell out to Bar
mum, and make fortune travelling with Tom
Thumb, and take the old woman along"
ssStranger'' said the rough, great man, and
his whole face loomed with mingled express
sion of pain and pride-s.stranger. L spoke a
word here didn't mean to a slightly word,
like, about my mother. l would give all the
gold IN my pocket to bring her back, for one
hour, to look upon the country as it is now.
She had her cabin here, when Chicager was no.
where; here she raised her boys-shc couldn't
give them larnin,' but she taught us better
things than books can gIye-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 years,
stranger, since we dug her grave by the lake
side with own hands and, with many
tear and sob, turned ourselves away from the
cabin where we'd been rased-the Indians had
killed our father long before, and we'd nothing
to keep us-and so we went to seek our for
tunes. Ny brother, he took down to st. Louis,
and got married down there som'ers; and /
just went where the wind blowed, and when I'd
scraped money enough together, 1 came back
and bought few acres of land around my
mothers old cabin, for the place where I'd
lain her bones was sacred, like. Well, in the
course of time, it turned right up in the mid
die of Chicager. couldn't stand that loved
my old mother too well to let omnibusses rattle
years ago, and quietly moved her away to the
buryin' ground; and then 1 went back to
Texas, and wrote to an agent arterward TO sell
my land. What cost few hundred to begin on,
l sold for over forty thousand-if I'd a kept it
till now, it would have been worth ten times
that; hGt's so, but got enough fort. I soon
| turned that forty thousand into eighty thou
| sand, 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 tie same
rough customer, remember 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, and
the only thing that troubles me is my money
haven't got no wife nor children, and I'm going
| 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; If
they help their mother, and don't put on MORN
| two frocks day, I'll make 'em rich, every
| one of 'em.
tNow, gentlemen, faint 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 telling these youngsters here about the
changes and chances teller may meet in life,
| if he only tries to make the most of himself.
| ssBut, boys" said he, turning to party of
young men, ssthere's something better than
money. Get Education. Why, boys, if had
as much larnn' as money, could be President
in 1860 just as e-G-s-y. Why, 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 real live Speak
er; and if you mind what say you NAV be
men, (and it amt every fellow that wears a
| goafee and brooches, that's a man, by a long
| ways.) Foller out her ceunsels never do a
thing that will make you ashamed to meet her
| III neaNeus w Hy, Uoy ., uCfci uOuc u cdu
thing but heard my mothers voice reprovin
me and never done good thing and made
| good move, but I'yc seemed to hear her say
ssThat's right, Jack,'' and that has been the
| best of all. Nothin' like mother, boys
nothin' like mother-that's so.o
All this had passed while waiting to wood JUS
outside of Chicago. The great man was swell
ling with emotions called up from the dari
Shadows of the past; his big, rough, heavy
frame heaved like a great billsw upon ths
ocean. Tears sprang to his deep set and earn
est eyes-they swelled up to the rim-ant
swan around asking to be let fall as tributes
to his mothers memory-tributes to the low
d of the past. But he choked them down, ant
humming a snatch of old ballad, he thrus
his hands down into his pockets, walked baci
to the end of the car, pulled the gigantic col
lar of his shaggy coat up around his ears, but
toned it close, and leaned back against the win
dow in silence.
The cars ratified on. What mind was there
what giant intellect, sleeping, buried ava.
from light and usefulness by a rubbish of pre-
judicc, habit and custom-doing but half worl
for want of culture! GA mute, ingloriou
| Milton" or rather Webster, going about tn
world, struggling with his own soul, yet boun'
in chains of Ignorance, which preclnded hi
doing but noiety Of the good in his powe
to do.
An the way on our long, tedious journey, h
; had over bees, on the watch to do good. H
3 gave up his seat by the fire, to an Irish woma
> and her child, and took one further back 500