“I was born in Kentucky. My father died before I was three years old, and my mother when I was seven. To her I owe much, though she was taken so early from me. Some friends took me to Central Ohio and indentured me to a saddler to learn his trade. I had to split the wood, to kindle the fire, to cook the victuals, to wash the dishes, to sweep the house, and do everything that was needed. I had little time to learn the trade. But as I was a poor orphan, I bore all patiently and did the best I could. One day the mistress said to me, ‘Go and split the wood for the fire in the morning.’ I did so, and returned. ‘Did I not tell you to go and split the wood?’ she said. ‘Yes, ma’am, and I have done it.’ ‘You have not done it,’ she said. I left the room and went into the shop, and said, ‘I am going to leave you, sir.’ ‘What’s the matter?’ ‘I could live very happily with you, sir, but I cannot live with mistress. She has charged me with lying. My dear mother taught me never to be so mean as to tell a lie.’ ‘Well, go,’ said he, ‘you will soon be back.’ I went to my room, tied my little all in my handkerchief, and went out into the street. I saw at a little distance a man with a team. I went up to him, and asked where he was going. ‘To Cincinnati,’ said he. ‘Will you take me with you?’ ‘You cannot go, said he; ‘on the corduroy roads you would be shaken to pieces.’ ‘If you will take me, I will go. I will ride the off horse, will run errands, and do anything I can.’ ‘Well, come along.’ We were five days on the road; but he was kind, and aided me when we reached our destination in finding a good home, and work which I could do. The people with whom I lived were poor, but kind, and I was happy. After the labors of the day I used to lie down on the hearth, knock the nose off a pine log, and read and study.
