, 1874-04-19
ROBERT .COLl-.YE:R.
"reminiscences Of The EARLY Life Of. tho
/: kpted Chicago Clergyman.
His Home in Ene'and---His Father and
Mother. "
Letters to an Old Yorkshire
Friend.

oA4SQ l4!oA u tAAA6 q EEAtaEA4Au 0AoH 0F A4A1
horse near a.smithy in o Yorkshire village (nk-
ley). On entering it, ho hardly arrested tho at
tention Of boy who Rocmed to be absorbed
in tho work of blowing the bellows. Closer OBJ
servation revealed tho presence Of d book-ita
pages kept open by two bits Of iron-placcd on
q shelf near Tho lads head. Each time be
brought down the bellows or released it, he
seemed to catch a sentence from the book.
THE ANVIL
A generation passed away. Tho little village
had grown to ho brilliant town. Low-thatch-
ed houses had made way before fine mansions,
and tho sm;hy IN which the ADORE incident WAS
observed was drawing near to it's day OF disap-
pearance. But before that day arrived another
gentleman appeared at the door, and inspected
with some interest an anvil standing in tho CELL
tre OF the shop.
f'How long has that anvil been hero 2" he
asked OF the blacksmith.
"Why," said the workman, "it must have
been here thirty or forty year."
swell, " said the gentleman. I will give you
twice az much for TINT anvil az will buy you q
new one."
"Certain1y," replied the puzzled smith but
would like to know what you want with this
anvil"
II will tell you. There Was formerly an ap-
prentice in this shop who used to work on it.
That boy has now become d great man. Thou
sands love and honor him friend and tcach-
er, and I wish to carry back tliis anvil as me-
mortal of the humble beginning Of his Life"
The bargain was completed. aud the anvil is
now III Chicago.
4 FAMOUS AMERICAN ORATOR.
Some years later yet it was. advertised in the
same town that fnmons Amer lean orator would
lecture there. Tho subject Of his lecture was
At.u LIZ 7f Il
The fine hall was thrown open, and it was over
crowded. Many could not enter. Tho lecturer
took up the story Of that place at its earliest
date. He clothed with meaning the old STONES
which still retained traces OF barla1ic ages. He
called up the armed 1somans who lived there more
than 700 years ago. Ho revealed to the itllcst
lounger in tho beautiful yale treasures OF his
tori nnd legend lying all around him. Ee aa1e
pass before them the knightly men ana tho fair
women who had passed along those pleasant
roads in tic long procession Of ages. He dig
played wealth Of historic learning, and Toye
the threads Of the present 30 artfuily upon the
warp Of the past, intersperelng anecdotes spark
ling with humor or touched with pathos, that the
audience went away with new eyes, and uklcy
woke up next day to lind itself famous. But
among those who listened to that wonderful lec-
ture there were few who know that the orator
had once studied his book while he blew the bel
lows in the dismal saithy which still marred
their street. And when ho handed buck tho con-
siderable proceeds OF the lecture, with request
that the money should be given to the town hos
pital, but few could connect tho incident With .
soosy lad laying one hard Learned penny upon an
other in order that he might presently hayo
enough to buy eecond-hand book at some way
side stall. The orator had given them new eyes
to see every thing around them except the pic
ru1esque beauty Of his own life. Only his hum
BILE origin he disclosed, not, bis victories. Tho
doors Of luxurious homes flew open to him, but
he preferred tho poor tenement Of his old friend
John DobsoD, by whose side lie used to sit read
ing when tho srnithy fire sank down in tue eyen-
log and the flame Of aspiration g1oWed on, his.
hearts burning pillar leading to unknown PROM
ised lands.
TIE ELOQUENT moS-wonKER OF oER11ASTowy-
It was in the height of the old Fremont CAM
paigu that the writer hereof sEseuded 4 Repub-
Ican meeting at Germantown, Pa, where mum
ber of eminent persons vera advertised to ad-
dress the public. There was Senator. as re-
member, and one or two famous Speakers, and
they drew together us many people as the little
room could hold. When tile advertised speakers.
had concluded, and received their various meaa-
ures OF applause, tho 6ooty wo1kinGmen present.
began to clamor nolsiiy for some one whose
name could not catch. After some whispering
On the platform, and more calls from below,
there arose a stalwart man, apparently fresh
from the forge, and yet rather less sootY than
his comrades, who began in somewhat ehy way
to give his views of the political sit
untion. The crowd eFident1y knew the
value of their man, and listened breath
lessly to Ills slow, strong, opening sen
tences. He spoke with decided English accent,
and he spoke like man accustomed to speak III
public. The first thing notable in what he said
was that half-shrewd, half-child like way Of e1-
preston which one often finds in Scotchmen.
His humor .was from the first overdowing, broak-
ing out on all sides but at this day remember
still mora the passages OF tender feeling, the
simple, sympathetic touches with which he
brought the Life Of the slave before. us, and tho
great-hearted humanity which peryaded the
whole speech. It seemed to me the Senator and
tho famous speakers might as well havo a1ald at
home.
this that I went to live in the West, and
there heard and read every day something
about the great preacher who had turned
up rather surprisingly in Chicago. After
yar, was at length gratiied; but groat was
my astonishment ut finding in him the eloquent
iron-worker OF Germantown-Robert Collyer-
How that trans sformation took place. what pain
full studies and brain services preceded it, ore
too well known in America to require repetition
here What have to say concerning him refers
to years in which there we're no plaud1ts from
crowds to cheer him on, and no great cities or
battle-felds receiving tho bountics Of his heart
and hand, and vocal with his fame. Ihey we're
years. nevertheless, which heve lustro Of their
own. It hns been my happiness to know the
man of whom write as T. friend; to abide un-
der the same roof with him, to travel with him,
to roam with him by the eea-shore and amidst
CrQWGeQ E[TeGLbt uhft 1EAA LIE NA4LAAto 8Al
listened to his eloquenco; have watched his
career in America, and have Witnessed hls ora
tor1cal triumphs here in the cities ct his native
land but now that have como to know tho
story of Ills life as a poor lad in Yorkshire,
venture to think TINT he will never be able to
preach eemon or write q volume SO impress
i've as the plain facts OF his own LIFE
noBERT coLLYEAs FATHER
For Robert Col1yer's father. this iron-work
was step upward. HIS life WAS so character
istic Of the hardy English stock that must give
few lines about it. About Ills earliest memory
was that Of standing in vast crowd II London.
which awaited the arrival Of the dead hero OF
Trafalgar. But the lad and his mother were
looking out for dearer face than thst even OF
Nelson, for there had gone out with the great
Captain the father aud husband. But instead OF
the brave SAILOR, there came the tidings that he
had been swept overheard into the sea, and was
drowned. And then the mother died. Little
Gam - the elder Collyer was always
called "Little Sam m"-mado his way to the
poor-house, told his story, and WAS kindly
cared for. In the work-house he did 30 man5
things, and go cleverly, TINT they weso 10th
to part with hun when the manufacturers came
from Yorkshire to find hands. He was only
whom he travelled away to the north country
He was placed under . smith named Birch.
kind-hearted man, who always used to leave
l. ky-+ TT+ro