Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1883-11-15
The Boyhood of John b. Cough.

His life had been peculiarly bitter
one. Born in very humble home at
Sandgate, on the English coast. CLEAN
ing wife his mother and sister after the
reapers, that they might have bread to
eat, or cleaning knives and shoes in the
pentleman's house where his father was
a servant, there was little to make a
boys life bright. When he was twelve,
a family offered to bring him to Amer
lea if his parents would pay fifty dollars
for his passage. 1t was difficult to earn
this, but his mother thought, after the
manner of mothers, "Perhaps in the New
World our John will be somebody" So,
with tears, she packed his scanty cloth
ing, putting in little Bible, and pinning
these lines on shirt:
Forget me not when death shall close
These eyelids in their last repose;
And when the murmuring breezes wave
The grass upon your mothers grave,
o then, whate'er thy age or lot
May be, my child, forget me not.
JANE COUGH.
Then, again and again she pressed her
only boy to her heart. and stole out be-
hind the garden wall, that, unobserved,
she might catch last look of the stage
which carried him TO London.
The voyage was long one of nearly
two months. The little lad often cried
in his cabin, and he wrote back, 81 wish
mother could wash me tonight" show
ing what tender "mother's boy he
was. When New York harbor was en-
tered, and he was eager to see his adopt
ed country, he was sent below to black
boots and shoes for the family.
His school days were now over. After
two years of hard work in the country,
he sold knife to buy postage stamp,
and wrote his father, asking his per-
mission to go to New York and learn
trade Consent was given, and, in the
MIDDLE of the winter, our English lad
of fourteen reached the great city, with
no home, no friends, and only fifty cents
in his pocket. Hundreds passed by as
he stood on the deck, holding
his little trunk in his hands,
but nobody spoke to him. But at last,
by dint of earnestness, he found place
to enter as errand-boy and learn book
binding, receiving two dollars and
twenty-five cents week, and paying
two dollars out Of this for his board.
How his employers thought he could
live on one dollar month for clothes
and washing has never appeared.
The first night he was placed by his
boarding-mistress in an attic, with all
Irishman who was deathly i'll. The Sec
ond night the man died, and the horror
stricken yocng boy staid alone with the
dead till morning.
Now nearly two painful years more
went 10y. Finally, though he earned
but three dollars IA week, he sent to Eng
liant for his mother and sister. When
they arrived two rooms were rented;
the gill found work in a straw-bonnet
factory, and, poor though they were,
they were very happy. John was now
sixteen, devoted to his mother, and still
u noble, unselish, persevering boy.
At the end of three months, through
dullness of business, both children lost
their places, and now began the strug
giles which the poor know so well in our
large cities. In vain they looked for
work. Then they left their two decent
rooms, and moved into a garrett. Winter
came on. ard they had neither fuel nor
food John walked miles out into the
country, and dragged home old sticks
which lay by the roadside. He pawned
his coat that the mother, who had now
become ill, might have some mutton
broth.
One day he left her In tears, and
went sobbng down the street.
what is the matter 2" said a stranger.
I'm hungry, and so is mother"
"Well, can't do much, nut Ill help
you little and he gave John three-
cent loaf of bread.
When the boy reached home. the good
woman put the Bible on the rickety pine
table, read from it, and then all knelt
and thanked God fer the precious loaf.
In the spring, he obtained employ
ment at four dollars and halt. week,
but poverty and privation had fallen too
heavily, rested too long, upon the moth