the iron puddler-第5章

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e　brother　afraid；　would　go　with　him　to　the　gate　and；　holding　an　old…fashioned　lamp　high　in　her　hands；　would　sing　some　Welsh　song　while　he　trudged　out　toward　the　mills　and　until　he　got　within　the　radius　of　the　glare　from　the　stacks　as　they。　belched　forth　the　furnace　flames。　And　as　he　passed　from　the　light　of　the　old　oil　burner　into　the　greater　light　from　the　mills；　I　walked　wearily　out　from　that　reflection　and　was　guided　home　by　my　mother's　lamp　and　song　on　her　lips。

Happy　is　the　race　that　sings；　and　the　Welsh　are　singers。　After　the　tiring　labor　in　the　mills　we　still　had　joy　that　found　its　voice　in　song。　When　I　was　six　years　old　I　joined　a　singing　society。　The　whole　land　of　Wales　echoes　with　the　folk　songs　of　a　people　who　sing　because　they　must。

The　memory　of　my　mother　singing；　has　made　my　whole　life　sweet。　When　blue　days　came　for　me；　and　hardship　almost　forced　me　to　despair；　I　turned　my　thoughts　to　her；　singing　as　she　rocked　a　cradle；　and　from　her　spirit　my　own　heart　took　hope　again。　I　think　the　reason　I　have　never　cared　for　drink　is　this：　the　ease　from　mental　pain　that　other　men　have　sought　in　alcohol；　I　always　found　in　song。



CHAPTER　V

THE　LOST　FEATHER　BED


I　didn't　care　very　much　for　day　school。　The　whipping　that　I　got　there　rather　dulled　the　flavor　of　it　for　me。　But　I　was　a　prize　pupil　at　Sunday…school。　Father　had　gone　to　America　and　had　saved　enough　money　to　send　for　the　family。　I　asked　my　mother　if　there　were　Sunday…schools　in　America；　but　she　did　not　know。　In　those　days　we　knew　little　about　lands　that　lay　so　far　away。

My　boy　chums　told　me　we　were　going　to　Pennsylvania　to　fight　Indians。　This　cheered　me　up。　Fighting　Indians　would　be　as　much　fun　as　going　to　Sunday…school。　A　trip　to　America　for　such　a　purpose　was　a　sensible　move。　But　when　mother　exploded　the　Indian　theory　and　said　we　were　going　to　work　in　a　rolling　mill；　I　decided　that　it　was　a　foolish　venture。

This　shows　how　much　my　judgment　was　worth。　I　thought　it　foolish　to　go　to　America　merely　to　better　our　condition。　But　I　thought　it　a　wise　move　to　go　there　and　kill　Indians　to　better　the　living　conditions　of　the　Americans。　I　know　grown　men　to…day　with　the　same　kind　of　judgment。　They　are　unwilling　to　do　the　simple　things　that　will　save　their　own　scalps；　but　they　are　glad　to　go　fight　imaginary　Indians　who　they　believe　are　scalping　the　human　race。　〃Capitalism〃　is　one　of　these　imaginary　Indians。　And　Lenin　and　Trotsky　are　the　boy　Indian…fighters　of　the　world。　These　poor　children　are　willing　to　go　to　any　country　to　help　kill　the　Indian　of　capitalism。　Meanwhile　their　own　people　are　the　poorest　in　the　world；　but　they　do　nothing　to　better　their　condition。　Such　men　have　minds　that　never　grew　up。

When　our　household　was　dissolving　and　we　were　packing　our　baggage　for　America；　I　tried　to　break　up　the　plan　by　hiding　under　the　bed。　Mother　took　the　feather　ticks　off　the　two　bedsteads　and　bundled　them　up　to　take　to　America。　Then　she　reached　under　the　bedstead　and　pulled　me　out　by　the　heels。　She　sold　the　bedsteads　to　a　neighbor。　And　so　our　household　ended　in　Wales　and　we　were　on　our　way　to　establish　a　new　one　in　a　far　country。

As　I　said　before；　the　feather　beds　were　mother's　measure　of　wealth。　Before　she　was　married　she　had　begun　saving　for　her　first　feather　bed。　It　had　taken　a　long　time　to　acquire　these　two　tickfuls　of　downy　goose　feathers。　The　bed　is　the　foundation　of　the　household。　It　is　there　that　the　babies　are　born。　There　sleep　restores　the　weary　toiler　that　he　may　rise　and　toil　anew。　And　there　at　last　when　work　is　done；　the　old　folks　fall　into　a　sleep　that　never　ends。

We　traveled　steerage　to　Castle　Garden。　Having　passed　the　immigrant　tests；　we　found　ourselves　set　out　on　the　dock；　free　to　go　where　we　pleased。　But　our　baggage　had　disappeared。　Some　one　had　made　off　with　our　precious　feather　beds！

This　was　the　first　real　tragedy　of　my　mother's　life。　All　the　joy　of　setting　foot　in　the　new　land　was　turned　to　dismay。　The　stored…up　pleasure　with　which　she　awaited　the　greeting　of　her　husband　was　dashed　in　a　moment；　like　sweet　water　flung　upon　the　ground。　When　I　saw　the　anguish　in　my　mother's　face；　I　was　sobered　to　life's　responsibilities。　The　song　had　died　out　of　her　heart；　and　I　must　make　it　sing　again。　While　she　was　crying　in　distraction；　I　wrapped　my　own　tearful　face　in　her　skirts　and　prayed　to　God　that　I　might　grow　up　in　a　daythat　He　would　make　my　arms　strong　so　I　could　go　to　work　at　once　earning　money　to　replace　the　lost　feather　beds。　I　was　then　not　quite　eight　years　old。　It　was　early　in　April；　1881。　Before　the　month　was　out　I　had　found　a　job　in　the　new　country　and　was　earning　money。　I　gave　all　my　earnings　to　my　mother。　I　have　been　earning　money　ever　since。　As　long　as　I　lived　at　home　I　turned　over　all　my　wages　to　my　mother。　When　I　went　away　I　sent　her　weekly　a　percentage　of　my　earnings。　This　I　have　ever　continued　to　do。

My　love　for　my　mother　and　her　grief　at　the　loss　of　the　feather　beds　turned　a　careless　boy　into　a　serious　money…maker。　This　led　to　the　study　of　economics　and　finance。　A　man's　destiny　is　often　made　by　trifles　light　as　feathers。



CHAPTER　VI

HUNTING　FOR　LOST　CHILDREN


The　loss　of　our　baggage　was　only　the　beginning　of　our　troubles　in　New　York。　With　the　feather　ticks　went　also　the　money　mother　had　got　from　selling　the　bedsteads　and　other　furniture。　She　had　nothing　with　which　to　buy　food　and　while　we　were　walking　the　streets　we　smelt　the　delicious　odor　of　food　from　the　restaurants　and　became　whining　and　petulant。　This　was　the　first　time　mother　had　ever　heard　her　children　crying　for　bread　when　she　had　none　to　give　them。　The　experience　was　trying；　but　her　stout　heart　faced　it　calmly。　In　the　Old　World；　her　folks　and　father's　folks　had　been　rated　as　prosperous　people。　They　always　had　good　food　in　the　larder　and　meat　on　Sunday；　which　was　more　than　many　had。　They　were　the　owners　of　feather　beds；　while　many　never　slept　on　anything　but　straw。　True　they　could　not　raise　the　passage　money　to　America　until　father　came　and　earned　itthat　would　have　been　riches　in　Wales。　Now　we　were　in　America　hungry　and　penniless；　and　hard　was　the　bed　that　we　should　lie　on。

From　Pittsburgh　father　had　sent　us　railroad　tickets；　and　these　tickets　were　waiting　for　us　at　the　railroad　office。　All　we　would　have　to　do　would　be　to　hold　our　hunger　in　check　until　we　should　reach　Hubbard；　Ohio；　where　a　kinsman　had　established　a　home。　But　while　mother　was　piloting　her　family　to　the　depot；　two　of　the　children　got　lost。　She　had　reached　Castle　Garden　with　six　children　and　her　household　goods。　Now　her　goods　were　gone　and　only　four　of　the　children　remained。　My　sister　was　ten　and　I　was　eight；　we　were　the　oldest。　The　baby；　one　year　old；　and　the　next；　a　toddler　of　three；　mother　had　carried　in　her　arms。　But　two　boys；　Walter　and　David；　four　and　six　years　old；　had　got　lost　in　the　traffic。　Mother　took　the　rest　of　us　to　a　hotel　and　locked　us　in　a　room　while　she　went　out　to　search　for　the　missing　ones。　For　two　days　she　tramped　the　streets　visiting　police　stations　and　making　inquiry　everywhere。　At　night　she　would　return　to　us　and　report　that　she　had　found　no　trace　of　little　Walter　and　David。　To　try　to　picture　the　misery　of　those　scenes　is　beyond　me。　I　can　only　say　that　the　experience　instilled　in　me　a　lasting　terror。　The　fear　of　being　parted　from　my　parents　and　from　my　brothers　and　sisters；　then　implanted　in　my　soul；　has　borne　its　fruit　in　after…life。

Finally　mother　found　the　boys　in　a　rescue　home　for　lost　children。　Brother　David；　curly…haired　and　red…cheeked；　had　so　appealed　to　the　policeman　who　found　them　that　he　had　made　application　to　adopt　the　boy　and　was　about　to　take　him　to　his　own　home。

After　finding　the　children；　mother　stood　on　Broadway　and；　gazing　at　the　fine　buildings　and　the　good　clothes　that　all　classes　wore　in　America；　she　felt　her　heart　swell　with　hope。　And　she　said　aloud：　〃This　is　the　place　for　my　boys。〃

Every　one　had　treated　her　with　kindness。　A　fellow　countryman　had　lent　her　money　to　pay　the　hotel　bill；　telling　her　she　could　pay　it　back　after　she　had　joined　her　husband。　And　so　we　had　passed　through　the　gateway　of　the　New　World　as　thousands　of　other　poor　families　had　done。　And　our　temporary　hardships　had　been　no　greater　than　most　immigrants　encountered　in　thos