The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1890-02-05
THE TIME OF ADJOURNMENT
He WORKED HARD.
And He Finally Rode in a Private
Car.
From az PhlLndeInhln 80.

From the PhdadeIDhia Press.
Twenty years ago a poor young man was
walking the streets of Philadelphia looking
for work. His clothes were shabby, his
hands were blue with the cold, and his
gaunt face showed that square meals were
not intimate friends of his. One morning
he awoke and thought over the years of toll
and picayune recomDense that had been
his, and he resolved then and there to make
break for the coast. He did so, and finally
reached the Pacific coast, where he now re-
sides. he found that work out there was
if anything harder than that in the east,
but wages and opportunities were far
greater. He came to Philadelphia last week
for the first time in quarter of a century,
put instead of coming in on foot, as he had
left the city, he rushed along in a Pullman
car. He is j. B. Wordsworth, and last
night he stood in the Lafayette corridor,
talking with Col. Baker Of changes that
nave occurred sincs ne went west.
II found work." said Mr. Wordsworth,
lin carrying a nod, in Frisco, and, tell
you, | worked hard too. One night | was
sitting on barrel near the buildings on
which was working, when an old gentle
man came along ON foot. He turned the
corner, and inside of two minutes | heard a
feeble cry for help l grabbed bod handle
ground,
and, darting around the corner, saw the old
man struggling with two whyos. | yelled
as If ten men were at my back, Come on,
boys Wen lay 'em outp And of course
they dropped the old man and ran for their
lives. The gentleman wasn't hurt much.
but had lost bis watch and shirt stud. He
gave me mis- card and told me to call on him
the next day. OF course l did So and we
talked about my former life, and | told him
how | al n nd
be at the top of the heap some day
II was young then," continued Mr..
Wordsworth, with a quiet smile, but my
boyish talk seemed to tickle the old chap.
He lent me some money, gave me lots of
good advice, and this card, - ne added, TAX
ing from wallet n yellow piece of paste
board. and l tell you, sir, that card did
me more good than anything else. The old
man afterward gave me a good place, and
from there got on rapidly. But lots and
lots of times, when | was discouraged and
homesick, | just pulled out this card and
read on it,
Mr.. Wordsworth handed the card to Col.
Baker, who read it:
columbus was the son of q weaver. and
a weaver himself. Cervautes was a com
mon soldier. Homer was the son of a small
farmer. Demosthenes was the son of a
cutler. Olivet Cromwell was the son of q
London brewer. Franklin was journeyman
printer the son of a tailow chandler and
soap boiler Daniel Defoe was a hostler.
Cardinal Wolsey was the son of butcher.
VlrgiPs father was porter. Shakespeare
was the son of wool stapler. Milton was
the son of money scriveuer. Mohammed
was driver of asses. Napoleau, a descend
ant of an obscure family of Corsica, was a
major when he married Josephine.
daughter of tobacconist Creole in Mar
Unique. John Jacob Astor once sold apples
in the streets of New York. Catherine.
Empress of Russia, was camp grisette
Madame Barnadotte was a washerwoman
in Paris. Horace was son of shop
keeper. Col. b 1ker handed the card back
to Mr. Wordsworth, who placed it in his
wallet, and patting it said: That card
is responsible for what success have
gained"