ENOGRAPHER.
 
 
 
 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 - * \ - t Ifc 

 
 &~^ /-&^>SL^ 
 
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 THE 
 
 STENOGRAPHER, 
 
 His Life, Trials and Difficulties, 
 
 Together with Many of the Perplexing 
 
 Circumstances which often 
 
 confront him. 
 
 BT 
 
 "CALHOUN," 
 Who has been through the "Mill." 
 
 Also contains many valuable instruc- 
 tions to Stenographers which will enable 
 t hem to avoid many difficulties and errors, 
 i f carefully perused. We cannot live our Hfe 
 over again, hence let us profit by the experi- 
 ence of others. 
 
 "In the lexicon of youth which fate 
 reserves for a bright manhood, there ls v 
 no such word as fall." 
 
 PUBLISHED BT 
 
 THE STENOGRAPHIC BOOK COMPANY. 
 
 St. Louis, Mo. 
 
 1894.
 
 TO THE 
 
 Stenographers of America 
 
 IS THE HOPE 
 
 THAT IT MAY PROVE A CONTRIBUTION TO 
 
 THE LITERARY STORK FROM \VHKN< I 
 
 THEY DRAW BOTH REAL PLEAS- 
 
 URE AND DESIRED AID, 
 
 AMU 
 
 THAT BY ITS PERUSAL EACH READER 
 MAY BECOME 
 
 A BETTER STENOGRA I ' U K I : . 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 
 Copyrighted 1894.
 
 C 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 It is not with a view of astonishing the literary 
 world that this volume is published, but that some- 
 thing might be done to encourage those of my 
 profession. Works of all kinds and classes have 
 been introduced, nearly every profession has some 
 work of its kind, but thus far the poor stenog- 
 rapher has been left in the cold. And why thus? 
 *> We have feet that walk and hearts that beat and 
 > that have feeling as well as any other class of indi- 
 viduals. 
 
 This work is not intended only to please the 
 mind of the one who may casually glance over its 
 5 pages, but those who may think their future pre- 
 M sents a gloomy appearance cannot help but feel 
 5 encouraged after reading the contents found in 
 this book. We as a class of willing workers are 
 rapidly reaching the point where the world cannot 
 y do without us. The prospects before the stenog- 
 rapher were never brighter, and to those who are 
 ' but starting in the profession, weary not in the 
 undertaking. There is yet a wonderful ladder be- 
 fore you, many who now hold positions of trust 
 and honor started as a stenographer. To the one 
 yet in school let me say, labor diligently, work 
 
 4484.01
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 earnestly, and do not become discouraged because 
 the top of the ladder is not reached in a day. 
 When you once become proficient in your profes- 
 sion there will always be avenues thrown open be- 
 fore you by which you can earn a good salary. 
 
 If in this work, the effort will be the means of 
 assisting those of the profession in any way, the 
 time will be considered as well invested. There 
 is no more noble calling for a young lady than to 
 become a good stenographer, it enables her to be- 
 come independent, self supporting and worthy of 
 the admiration of all. 
 
 In this work -it has been deemed advisable to 
 be plain spoken, and with the exception of names 
 being substituted, there is no novel about it, it is a 
 reality, the circumstances actually transpiring. 
 Perhaps in some places the brush may have rubbed 
 a little roughly, but some of the incidents have 
 been an awful reality to the writer. Stenographic 
 friends, push forward, seek to advance your em- 
 ployers' interests, and they will not fail to appre- 
 ciate the effort and reciprocate.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. Scenes of home life. First remark 
 about attending school. The great impres 
 sion made by the advertising circular. Wear 
 ing apparel. Prospects not at all favorable. 
 Missouri in the seventies. First school ever 
 attended. Quite romantic place. Difficul- 
 ties of school life. 
 
 CHAPTER II. One of the boys. Having a touch 
 of all diseases in the category. Difficulties 
 in writing compositions at school. Bitten by 
 poisonous serpent. Come near joining the 
 silent majority. First tinge of affection for 
 new arrivals from the east felt. Country 
 courtship under trying circumstances. 
 
 CHAPTER III. Difficulties attending country life. 
 The long dreary road between home and 
 the place where Jennie resided. Horse breaks 
 loose. Trouble of the worst kind. A lost 
 horse and awaiting girl. Terror of breaking 
 the news to the man of the house. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. Ambition. Attend school in neigh- 
 boring village. Sort of a "tender foot" in 
 town life. Visit home. Thrown from a 
 horse and again come near crossing Jordon.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Borrow the use of railroad bicycle, without 
 the knowledge of the owner. The marshal 
 takes a hand. One such lesson enough. 
 
 CHAPTER V. Death angel enters the family. 
 Instead of astonishing the civilized world was 
 forced to return to farm life. The mysteries 
 of life and death. The first real sorrow. 
 Death claims sister Nellie. In the midst of a 
 terrible storm her spirit takes its flight. 
 Life seemed different ever after. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. Attend school for the purpose of 
 mastering shorthand. First experience at 
 school. The professor took particular pains 
 to get the bulk of my currency first day. 
 Samuel Tough my fellow schoolmate. The 
 "Students' Home." Writing the shorthand 
 alphabet three times per minute. A case of 
 try, try again. He said go, and I started. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. There's some sunshine in the 
 darkest lives. After a few days, commenced 
 to write. Introduced to the type-writer. 
 Too much fun, not enough study. Sam the 
 subject of a practical joke. Taking care of a 
 sick friend. Rustle nights and mornings for 
 board. Pride unmercifully crushed at times. 
 Turn my back on Hardstudy. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. Leave school, strike Butcher- 
 town, trouble only now begins, a regular 
 tenderfoot. Introduction to life in the city. 
 Life as it is. Home in Deadville. Scenes in 
 an agriculture school, A case of, first there
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 first served. Nothing strange to see a meek 
 looking chap stove into a pair of pants six 
 inches too short. Watching for a man who 
 wants a. good stenographer. Business ap- 
 parently a little dull. Strange to say no one 
 seemed to want a competent (?) stenographer. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. From bad to worse. Driven to 
 the wall and try the book business. Thought 
 the fortune almost made. Harry did not 
 seem to think much of the prospects. A 
 touch of homesickness. Got a place and 
 could not hold it. Failure in the examina- 
 tion. The only man that would listen was a 
 one-legged shoemaker. Get a place as clerk 
 and cannot master it. Finally secure a per- 
 manent position as stenographer. 
 
 ( 'iiAi'TKR X. With a permanent position life 
 moves in smoother channels. l>uy a type- 
 writer. Act as stenographer, office boy and 
 general roustabout. Social life a perfect bar- 
 ren: -A visit home. See Jennie. Business 
 grew worse and worse. Forced to secure an- 
 other place. --.Get employment in large pack- 
 ing establishment. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. Mysteries and miseries of a mam- 
 moth packing house. Not many letters to 
 write each day but long hours. Unpleasant 
 sound coming from the dying animals. Take 
 notes in all kind of places and positions. 
 Sheep decoy. Manner of pork manufacture. 
 Chased by a dog.- Neck and neck race f -r
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 many ties. Working seven days per week. 
 Encounter with a pickpocket. Prospect of 
 forsaking shorthand altogether. Leave Butch - 
 ertown. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. The art to be abandoned. A 
 slight promotion. Handle cash and get into 
 trouble. Short in cash account. Transferred 
 to Gehtleburg. Get in close quarters. Meet 
 Timothy Slocum. Trouble with the Man- 
 ager. Returned to Butchertown unwillingly. 
 Again follow shorthand for a living. Code 
 messages make a mistake and get into trouble. 
 A friend killed instantly. Try railroading. 
 
 CMAPTKR XIII. Life in a new field. The real 
 terrors of being unable to read your notes. 
 To write one hundred letters daily. Their 
 policy to kill a new man on the start if pos- 
 sible. The "boss" apparently always mad. - 
 All at once the monotony was broken by 
 "Get yer book!" spoken quick and sharp. - 
 He looked all the time as if he might chew 
 stenographer, typewriter and all up. A case 
 of "here a line and there a line." Wished 
 that a millstone might have been tied to my 
 neck and cast into the deep in my youth. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. Stenographer's life from a social 
 standpoint. Roaming over the prairie. Tim 
 othy gets careless. His carelessness gets him 
 into trouble. Cupid's darts get in their work. 
 Timothy joins the benedicts. Tennis club 
 amusements. Walking down the street about
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 the same time the gentler portion of the race 
 did. - An inviting hammock. -The dog chained 
 and the old gentleman asleep. None like Miss 
 Missionary. Competition in the social world. 
 Get acquainted with "Shorty." 
 
 CHAPTER XV. Circumstances such, a healthy 
 realization follows that a stenographer is not 
 a machine. Meet a young man from the East 
 and get the worst of the acquaintance. Vis- 
 its to the Missionary mansion become more 
 frequent. Competition. -The old gentleman's 
 anger ripening against me. Finally forbids 
 the placing of my tiny feet on his sod hence- 
 forth. All over, join a bachelor club; the 
 embargo lifted. Happy as a June bug, all 
 goes merry as a marriage bell. Quarantine 
 again enforced. A farewell forever. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. New home and new surround- 
 ings. Parting with friends but the inevitable 
 fate of a stenographer. Join a World's Fair 
 club, win a medal. Attending the Fair. En- 
 counter all kinds of difficulties. Life mate- 
 rially changed. After one year all seems 
 changed. New found friends cause a more 
 friendly feeling for the antique Missionary 
 man. The Phonograph will it ever be a suc- 
 cess? Not in this age. "Take a letter. "- 
 The end.

 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 SCENES OF HOME LIFE. 
 
 "Say, Father, I've got a sort of a sneaking idea 
 I would like to learn shorthand and be a stenog- 
 rapher; if you'll give me a little wad of currency 
 to use attending school, I will try and make my 
 own way in the world after that." 
 
 "That's just like some of your high-toned ideas. 
 Why can't you go to school and study some of the 
 ordinary branches like the other boys did? You 
 are always on the wrong road and wanting some- 
 thing you can't have. We never more than get 
 one of your wants satisfied until you are origina- 
 ting another." 
 
 "Yes; but I have been reading those papers the 
 fellows sent me from the school up there in Iowa 
 where it says in three months I could fix myself 
 up for a good stenographer, and in six months 
 be a court reporter, and of course nothing short 
 of a court reporter would stop me. Just think of 
 only attending school from four to six months and 
 then get a salary of from, Oh, I don't know how 
 much, but after three months I could easily get 
 from $60.00 to $75.00 per month without a bit of 
 trouble, and I have made up my mind I want to
 
 10. THB STENOGRAPH KR 
 
 go. If you will not furnish me the necessary 
 wherewith, I will borrow it and go anyhow." 
 
 "That all sounds well enough to talk about, but 
 I guess you will find people are not so hungry for 
 reporters and stenographers as you think they 
 are." 
 
 "I read it myself in the circular which the 
 school man sent me, and of course he would not 
 misrepresent it in the least. It says 'good men 
 always in demand/ so you see there would be no 
 trouble whatever for me." 
 
 "Oh, well, if you are so determined, we will see 
 about it later on, but I am satisfied you are mak- 
 ing the mistake of your life." 
 
 Such was the conversation which took place be- 
 tween a long, lank-looking country boy who ans- 
 wered to the name of "Jack," and a somewhat 
 aged man, who. was his sire. Jack was made up 
 something after the fashion of the average North- 
 ern Missouri farm boy of the age; his wardrobe 
 consisted of about as meagre a make-up as the law 
 allowed straw hat, hickory shirt, trousers and 
 some large looking articles which he called shoes. 
 The little articles which most men wear, common- 
 ly called socks, were looked upon by him as a 
 sort of luxury and were only to be worn in cold 
 weather. The trousers, whether from an idea of 
 economy or because of shrinkage, we are not at 
 present in a position to state, but sufficeth to say, 
 they lacked about two inches of making connec- 
 tion with the top of his shoes, They were kept
 
 HIS LIKE AND TRIALS. II. 
 
 suspended and held in their proper locality by 
 the means of a string business across the shoul- 
 der, better known among the boys as a "gallus. " 
 It depended largely upon circumstances whether or 
 not two of these "galluses" were used or only one, 
 as one would answer the purpose fairly well, and 
 everything went to show that he had a great dis- 
 like for superfluous wearing apparel. 
 
 The old gentleman was more respectable look- 
 ing, being dressed in a modern farmer style, and 
 while he was quite a congenial old fellow the fact 
 was very evident that he did not in the least ap- 
 prove of Jack's going away to school to squander 
 money and time in attempting to learn something 
 that he would never be able to realize anything 
 from. Times were hard and money market close, 
 especially in that locality, besides the money nec- 
 essary to equip the young enthusiast would buy 
 ever so many good calves then for sale in the coun- 
 try; this all had a bearing at this critical moment. 
 However, Jack was persistent, and as there was 
 an intervening space of two or three months be- 
 fore the time arrived for him to take up his de- 
 parture for the much coveted locality, the mat- 
 ter rested where it was for the present, sort o' be- 
 tween heaven and earth as it were, or at least so 
 it appeared to Jack. 
 
 We deem it proper here to give a brief account 
 of what farm life was at that time in that part of 
 Missouri, in order that the reader more fully ap- 
 preciate the circumstances which surrounded and
 
 12. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 the duties involved upon us, at the time we first 
 determined to give vent to the growing ambition 
 and leave the farm. 
 
 The true American is born with that spirit of 
 unrest in him that is never satisfied until death 
 has ushered in the change that puts the finishing 
 touch on our earthly career. I was no exception 
 to this rule, hence the excitement that enters into 
 life on the farm failed entirely to satisfy or grat- 
 ify my ambitious desires. Everything was pass- 
 ing along with such a dull expected sameness, the 
 hills were just where they had been for years, the 
 trees that I had watched and played under in 
 childhood, still continued to put forth their leaves 
 in springtime, and with exactly the same regu- 
 larity become barren in winter. The creek that 
 ran near the house was precisely the same it had 
 been ever since I could remember, and in short I 
 was disgusted with everything; besides, it seemed 
 my work was never done; all work and no play. 
 I thought I was the most unfortunate creature on 
 the face of the globe, and that everyone else was 
 sailing along on flowery beds of ease. How little 
 did I realize what the then undeveloped future 
 held in store for me, and how many times have I 
 looked back since and thought how those might 
 have been the most pleasant days of my life. 
 Father, mother, brothers and sisters, all at home 
 in one happy family. Often and often have I 
 longed but for one more such gathering, but it is 
 impossible. How true the maxim, We never know
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 13. 
 
 when we have a good thing until it is too late. I 
 little dreamed what city life was, as I had never 
 been in a town of any size since I was a mere 
 child, and of course was comparatively ignorant 
 concerning its mysteries, but the brush of medita- 
 tion had been busy for many months painting 
 upon the panorama of my imagination the won- 
 ders and excitement that such a life held in, store 
 for me. I had cherished the hope so long and so 
 fondly that it had reached the point where noth- 
 ing short of that seemed to hold any induce- 
 ment or have any satisfaction for me whatever. 
 The fire of life had been ignited; the brush con- 
 tinued to paint, and every stroke assisted but to 
 fan the smouldering fire of ambition into flames. So 
 it is with the one shut up in the city; if they could 
 but have more of their time to invest upon the 
 farm or rural retreats, as they are pleased to term 
 it, how grand it would be. How much more life 
 would be worth living if we could but be satisfied 
 with our lot; how much more we could get out of 
 life, and how it would tend to raise the standard 
 of human existence. 
 
 It is hardly necessary for me to go away back 
 and tell you who my grandmothers and grand- 
 fathers were on both sides for a number of decades 
 and generations, and for two reasons I refrain 
 from doing so, first, because it would not particu- 
 larly interest any, and second, I am not in a posi- 
 tion just now to do so, as most of them had 
 passed over the river before I came upon the
 
 14- THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 stage of action. I knew but a grandfather and a 
 grandmother, personally. 
 
 We first saw the sun rise in the state of Illinois, 
 in the central part, Livingston county, and as I 
 am still in a state of celibacy I withhold announc- 
 ing the date of my first appearance upon the arena, 
 but to say that it has been many moons, is placing 
 it mildly. My parents moved from that state to 
 the northern part of Missouri when I had but 
 passed the second mile post of my existence, con- 
 sequently I know very little of my historical career 
 or maneuvers in that part of the vineyard. The 
 song I learned to sing when young expresses, to a 
 great degree, the surroundings, which was some- 
 thing like the following: 
 
 "Amid broad fields of wheat and corn, 
 The lovely home where I was born." 
 
 The northern part of Missouri in the seventies 
 was hardly in a perfect state of civilization. 'Tis 
 true the Indian had been driven farther west, and 
 the most ferocious wild animals slaughtered or had 
 their minds impressed with the fact that it was no 
 place for them and migrated of their own accord. 
 That class of people who are never exactly con 
 tented unless they are on the frontier and leading 
 a pioneer life, made up a greater portion of the 
 population. While they might have been ever so 
 friendly and sociable, they were not satisfied with 
 the thought of the country being so thickly set 
 tied as to render hunting of no avail, and of course 
 soon pushed farther west.
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 15.- 
 
 . 
 
 I remember very distinctly of having the prin- 
 ciples of the English alphabet inculcated into my 
 cranium while sitting on a bench made of a 
 slab, with holes bored through it and pegs put in 
 to hold it up. 'Twas a sort of "Abraham Lin- 
 coln" or "Andrew Jackson" school house. In 
 fact this is the way many great men got their 
 start, the only trouble with this one being, it was 
 not made of logs, or who knows what the result 
 might have been with me? It was really a nice, 
 but dirty old place, the birds using the upper part 
 for nesting and caring for their young, vermin 
 using the lower realms for various purposes; we 
 occupied the center. Despite all this the loca- 
 tion was beautiful, the elegant natural grove be- 
 hind the house and the fine lawn in front of it 
 weie really inviting; but to be frank about the 
 matter, the building itself and those hard old slab 
 benches do not occupy a very warm place in my 
 heart. This, however, only lasted about a year 
 and a half of my school days, as the district be- 
 came so far advanced in civilization they erected 
 a new school house, and got so rashly extravagant 
 as to paint it white. Neighboring districts looked 
 upon this as an outlandish outlay of means, for to 
 add to all this terrible display of wealth, they had 
 "boughten" seats on the inside. How proud we 
 were, and how much easier it was for the kids to 
 sit still when they could have something to place 
 their poor, lean backs against, and not have more 
 than two others in the seat with them. With four
 
 16. THE STENOGRAPHKR 
 
 
 
 or five boys all sitting on one slab bench, it is 
 next to impossible to keep them all from sliding 
 up in a bunch, and then what follows is too well 
 known to need relating. The erection of the 
 schoolhouse in our district appeared to eventually 
 dawn upon the obtuse minds of the adjoining dis- 
 tricts that perhaps it was a tolerably good thing, 
 so some of the rest tried, and soon the old pioneer 
 school houses began to lose their grip and were re- 
 placed by new ones. 
 
 I always was a sort of a meek kid and too big a 
 coward to fight, hence I escaped many a black 
 eye which a majority of school boys had the 
 pleasure of wearing. While small I was usually 
 of fair deportment, and the teacher seldom had 
 occasion to administer corporal punishment. Such 
 things as getting ears twisted considerably out of 
 their ordinary posture, nose pulled, or fingers 
 thumped with a ruler were only daily occurrences, 
 and of course I had my share of them. I remem- 
 ber quite clearly of having committed some little 
 misdemeanor one day and as a punishment for 
 the same I was compelled to go over and sit be- 
 side one of the gentler sex. Then, it was to me 
 the most severe and cruel punishment and looked 
 upon as dreadful treatment, but I have often 
 thought since, what a fool I was. The lessons of 
 life are never completely learned until it is too 
 /ate to take advantage of opportunities, and when 
 we have a good thing we never have sense enough 
 to appreciate it.
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 1 7. 
 
 Most all boys, I believe, think school days are the 
 most horrible of their lives; that is, in their earlier 
 school days. It seems, fish will never bite better 
 than during the very time they are at school; they 
 never have a greater desire to help mother than at 
 about nine in the morning, and in short it seems 
 like a prison, that dull, dirty school room. I was 
 no exception to the rule in this line and could 
 not help thinking they were mistreating me very 
 much by compelling me to go to school, for of 
 course I went with no other thought than of it 
 being a case of absolute necessity. Most parents 
 like to have the kids say they "like to go," "en- 
 joy school," etc., and my oldest sister was very 
 anxious that I should be in this mood. One 
 morning on being questioned on this point by a 
 gentleman, "Do you like to go to school?" I 
 frankly answered, "No, sir." 'Tis needless to say 
 I got a lecturing, and promised I would answer 
 affirmatively henceforth, and so I did, although I 
 often knew it was prevaricating. 
 
 The inducements to get a child to attend school 
 were then very poor as compared with the more 
 modern system. Then we were supposed to grasp 
 and dig out education, or a start at least from the 
 "three R" system. Everything was fed cold and 
 not always in broken doses either. There was 
 one rule, "get your lesson or take a licking," 
 which was usually more or less respected. 
 
 I continued in this way until I began to verge 
 into my teens without anything very startling hap- 
 pening to mar the quietness thereof.
 
 V 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 "ONE OF THE BOYS." 
 
 As year after year wore away, some of the 
 childish ideas began to relax their hold upon me 
 and I commenced to look at school as at least a 
 few grades above penitentiary life, and by stretch- 
 ing the word truth to its extreme limit, I might 
 say that ere I was fifteen I looked upon attending 
 the place where education was dished up, with a 
 slight degree of pleasure. This had partially been 
 brought about by a number of circumstances 
 which have a tendency to mould the ideas of a 
 boy who is not naturally over-ambitious to engage 
 in the labor presenting itself on a farm. By this 
 time I had learned to follow the plow with becom- 
 ing dignity, wield the hoe in the weed patch, ex- 
 tract the lacteal fluid from the bovine groupe, and 
 various other little duties wherein I could make 
 myself useful as well as ornamental. It might be 
 well to here add that, like most other boys, about 
 the only things I was naturally adapted to, was 
 fishing and eating, or chasing the grey squirrel 
 through the woods, or at other times follow a rab- 
 bit track, which was a day or two old, for a few 
 niles. Of course I had all the ailments and dis-
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 19. 
 
 eases common to growing kids; possibly I skipped 
 one or two of the category, but among the ones 
 yet firmly impressed upon my memory I might 
 enumerate chicken-pox, mumps, measles and itch. 
 The latter named disease was of the seven-year 
 variety; however, by luxurious and persistent use 
 of sulphur we succeeded in curtailing its career to 
 a certain extent. I believe of the list, this one 
 has left the most lasting impression. 
 
 I usually attended the tabernacle of learning 
 about nine months in the year until sixteen; after 
 that, would attend about four, forgetting during 
 the eight what I learned during the four, hence 
 just about retained my intellectual equilibrium for 
 a few years. It was the custom in those days to 
 have the kids give a sort of a young exhibition of 
 their oratorical ability on Friday afternoons, which 
 consisted of a little poetry, partially committed to 
 memory, select reading, or a composition. While 
 I did not take kindly to any of these, I usually, as 
 a matter of policy, performed enough to stay the 
 wrath of those in power and held legal authority 
 to wield the rod of correction. To give you a 
 slight idea of the effort I sometimes put forth, I 
 insert one of my compositions on Christopher 
 Columbus: 
 
 "CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS. 
 
 "It is said that Columbus discovered America, 
 but now the question arises how did he discover 
 it. He, according to history, had a powerful hard 
 time to get started, across the deep. Well, ac^
 
 2O. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 cording to history he went whineing around try- 
 ing to get some of his friends to throw in 5 cents 
 to help him get started, but just about the time he 
 had commenced to get his influence over the peo- 
 ple there was some fellows took the advantage of 
 poor old Chris, and one day got in a boat 
 and went out 15 or 20 miles, as they thought, and 
 looked as far as they could see, but they could 
 not see land, so they went back and said that 
 Columbus' plan was a fraud. 
 
 "This completely bumswizzled Columbus, so he 
 went home discouraged, but he was a man that 
 would not yield to discouragement. 
 
 "So in a few centuries he again tried his luck 
 and succeeded. Chris. Columbus started from 
 England to discover America; he was the happy 
 owner of a small row boat and two hoop-poles for 
 propellers. He took with him a loaf of bread, a 
 clam basket and an old ham bone, also his brother 
 Nicodemus. His brother had a hat that meas- 
 ured five miles around the brim. He took with 
 him for society, a pig, a cat and a rat, and for 
 fear they would quarrel he placed the rat in the 
 sugar bowl, the cat in the salt box and the pig in 
 the cabin. Columbus had an immense watch; 
 the hour hand was five feet long. 
 
 "One day the pig took a walk on the deck and 
 got dizzy and fell overboard and was drowned. 
 He was 2 years, 3 months, 4 weeks, 5 days, 6 hours, 
 30 min,. 50 sec. old at the time of his death. 
 Soon after this Columbus discovered "Cat Is-
 
 HIS LITE AND TRIALS. 21. 
 
 land," so named on account of the tremendous 
 number of cats that peopled the island, this is an 
 island that is in America. Poor old Chris is 
 dead now and gone away." 
 
 Human nature has peculiar freaks which some- 
 times we are at a loss to explain, but to me one of 
 the deepest, darkest mysteries, and one which I 
 am at a loss to interpret is, why even a school 
 boy will acquire such a strong affinity for a sister 
 other than his own. A fifteen year old boy will 
 work himself half to death tugging at a sled, 
 when there is a pretty little girl perched thereon, 
 provided she is not his sister, while he could not 
 think of exerting such an effort on her behalf un- 
 der any circumstances. Most boys at this age, 
 especially while attending school, gradually be- 
 come to think a great deal more of some certain 
 girl of about their own age than any others, and 
 this thought harbored and cherished month after 
 month, he finally imagines, perhaps before he has 
 reached eighteen, that he is really in the hands of 
 cupid, and unless he shall some day have her 
 undivided attention, life will be but an empty 
 shell. I now look back over that time and say 
 (> \Vhat fools we mortals be." Here again I was 
 no exception to the rule, and encountered fully 
 my proportion of the ups and downs brought 
 about by such action. 
 
 When about sixteen an incident in my life oc- 
 curred w'hich came hear causing me to join the 
 silent majority. The reptiles known as a "rattk--
 
 22. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 snake" were quite numerous in that vicinity, and 
 their bite was usually looked upon as fatal. I 
 was in the field one day in the summer, and as the 
 weather was very pleasant and warm I removed 
 the large boots from my feet and began meander- 
 ing around barefooted. I had only kept this up 
 a short while when I stepped directly on a rattle- 
 snake, and was of course bitten. It had only 
 been a short time before that a little girl, one of 
 the neighbor's, had been similarly afflicted and had 
 resulted in death. The first thought that flew 
 across my mind was to slay the intruder, which 
 act was accomplished with due deliberation; then 
 came the thought which has for ages perplexed 
 nations, "Where will I go if I die? 
 
 I did not then look upon death in the same 
 light that I now do, or perhaps it would have ap- 
 peared less terrible; then, it presented an awful 
 picture to my excited imagination. About all I 
 could get into my cranium was, Jack laid out, 
 funeral procession, hole in the ground about five 
 feet long and then! Then, all was blank. I had 
 never studied the mysteries of the future, other 
 than what I had occasionally heard from mother 
 or the Sunday school teacher. Their spiritual ad- 
 monition had been looked upon very lightly, but 
 now the mean things I had done began to flood 
 my troubled brain to a desperate degree. Tis 
 easy enough to talk about dying, while in good 
 health, but when it comes to the point where 
 we realize it is on the verge of reality, or when
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 23. 
 
 one thinks his time has come to cross the gulf, the 
 matter appears altogether different. I was about 
 three miles from home when the accident occurred, 
 and, as was the custom, the first thing to do in 
 cases of that kind was to dope the invalid with 
 whiskey. My brother came to my rescue and we 
 secured some of the fiery drug from a neighbor- 
 ing house. The first "swig" I took came near 
 cheating the snakebite out of its glory, as it was so 
 strong it canie near strangling me, for in the ex- 
 cited state I was then in, I took much more than 
 should have been given to one of my age. After 
 a brief struggle I commenced to breathe with a 
 little less effort. About this time another old time 
 remedy was applied that of burning the wound 
 with a view of the fire drawing the poison out. I 
 afterwards discovered that such a remedy was 
 perhaps all right in theory, but it fell far short in 
 actual practice, for the burning hurt so I could 
 not endure it, and furthermore would not. The 
 fire burning at my foot, the whiskey internally get- 
 ting in its work, and my agitated brain, all worked 
 in unison to make life exceedingly lively for a sea- 
 son. By the time we reached home the afflicted 
 member had swollen to considerably above its 
 normal state. The excitement around home which 
 would naturally follow, took place. I was chucked 
 into bed, the whiskey supply replenished by one 
 of the boys going seven miles to the nearest vil- 
 lage; in the meantime I was being doped with 
 what the neighbors had, my foot soaked in various
 
 24. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 poison antidotes, and everything being done that 
 possibly could be to thwart the purpose of Mr. 
 Snake. About 6 p. m., (the wound having been 
 inflicted 'about 2 p. m.) the whiskey began to affect 
 me quite severely, and before seven, I was really 
 drunk. I shall never forget the feeling, how very 
 queer it was; have never been in such a condition 
 since, either from snake or liquor trouble, but that 
 once gave me an experience never to be forgotten. 
 It happened the family were all out of the room at 
 this time, and despite the swollen foot, I got out 
 of bed and ran out into the yard and acted as one 
 just escaping from a lunatic asylum. Whether the 
 whiskey, fire or the other antidotes applied did the 
 work, I am unable to say, but before midnight 
 the pain had become very materially lessened and 
 the danger was over. After a few days remain- 
 ing in bed, I was again on my feet, but my foot 
 being left in a very bad condition it was deemed 
 wise to not allow me to travel around very much, 
 hence I was again allowed to attend school. 
 
 About this time there was a family from one of 
 the eastern states came west and located in our 
 immediate vicinity, about two miles from where we 
 lived. The country west of us was rough and cover- 
 with light timber, east of us was prairie. As cir- 
 cumstances SO happened, this family lived west. 
 While the. family of itself was nothing extraordi- 
 nary, there was one member of it, being of the 
 female persuasion, that was to my then inexperi- 
 enced mind considerably out of the common line.
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 25. 
 
 Imported articles are presumably the best always, 
 and perhaps this was one reason why I looked 
 upon this new comer with so much favor. To do 
 her justice, however, she was a little ahead of the 
 average girl that then inhabited that strip of the 
 woods, and it is nothing more than right that I 
 here admit I was always quite easily influenced by 
 the gentler sex, and am not in a position to say 
 that it is entirely outgrown yet, but materially im- 
 proved in this respect. Jennie McGinnis was a 
 girl with such a quick, sharp eye, honest counte- 
 nance and industrious, that one could not help 
 admiring her; and then, I am now convinced she 
 was a little coquettish. It cannot be denied that 
 I thought she was "pretty fine," and she had no 
 hesitancy in showing by her actions that my at- 
 tentions were cordially received and that she was 
 a firm believer in reciprocity. Talk about back- 
 woods courtship! * * * The following year 
 held much in store for me. I was such a fre- 
 quenter at the McGinnis house that even the dog 
 became to treat me as one of the family, and of 
 course, as boys always are, I was as much in love 
 with the whole family as with the girl, but nat- 
 urally preferred her solitary association to that of 
 the entire generation. A fellow has got to have 
 an abundance of tenacity to successfully wait upon 
 ayoungjadyin such localities. The entire fami- 
 ly, including the dog, congregate in the select 
 room during the evening, and regardless of who 
 was present or previous conditions of servitude
 
 26. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 the old gentleman, the old lady and a regular gen- 
 eration of children would take up their post and 
 stand by it manfully. Of course I had my place. 
 I'd play with the kids, talk to the old man about 
 crops, politics, religion and measles, and then 
 turn and talk to the old lady about the neighbors 
 awhile, and occasionally wink at the girl. After 
 keeping this up for a few hours the kids would be- 
 gin to wilt like a summer Four O'clock in the sun, 
 and as kid after kid would go down and be grap- 
 pled in the arms of morpheus, the elder children 
 would drag them off to bed. Occasionally the 
 dragee would be aroused by the rough treatment 
 he received, and the conversation that would im- 
 mediately follow, at times had a tendency to em- 
 barrass a fellow a little, especially when consider- 
 ing the surroundings; this, however, one soon be- 
 came accustomed to, and when the occasion de 
 manded could help drag the young intruders out 
 with pretty good grace, for by so doing it hastened 
 the time when I should have the undivided atten- 
 tion of Miss Jennie. After the little offsprings 
 had all been dumped into their sleeping apart- 
 ments and the dust which had been agitated by 
 the recent struggle, had cleared away, the old man 
 would start in afresh, tell a string or two of fish 
 stories, each of which I knew I had to pay strict 
 attention to in order to hold my job. Of course I 
 would always laugh heartily, even though the 
 tales be as dry as chipL. Every time the old man 
 would give a good big yawn I would take fresh
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 27. 
 
 courage, for I knew the time was fast approaching 
 when he would succumb to the inevitable attack 
 of 'inorpheus. When the opportunity presented 
 itself, I would try and get in a few words to the 
 effect that aged people required more sleep than 
 middle aged or young people, but despite all my 
 efforts the antique gentleman would remain faith ' 
 fully at his post until it would seem I must give up 
 in despair. His better half would, if she hap- 
 pened to notice my uneasy posture and restless 
 disposition, broach the subject of retiring. This 
 would sometimes prove effective, at other times 
 cause but a look at the clock, stretch of the body 
 and enable him to start off on another line of fish 
 stories, or tales of the wonderful land of "back 
 where I come from." 'Tis needless to say that I 
 invariably agreed with him on all points, regard 
 less of whether on neighbors, cattle, church or 
 state, although at the time I might know he was 
 prevaricating, perhaps unintentionally. What a 
 dickens of a time he did have with those oxen 
 when he was a boy! I have never forgotten all 
 those tales, not by consiberable, and as they so 
 cruelly punished me I would not think of admin- 
 istering them to others with any thought of enter- 
 tainment or knowledge. 
 
 I have always entertained a friendly feeling for 
 the mother, partially for the kindness shown me 
 during my visits there, and the very material 
 assistance furnished ine in later years, which may 
 be explained further on.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 DIFFICULTIES ATTENDING COUNTRY LIFE. 
 
 As all things come to those who wait, so it 
 would be on occasions of this nature, for finally 
 sleep would approach them with such terrible 
 velocity they must answer its calls. The heavy 
 boots withdrawn and the nether garments of the 
 foot, commonly called hosiery (which we might 
 add were non-odorless) dislodged and placed in 
 the proper receptacle, much to my glory they 
 would take their departure, not however with- 
 out cautiously, warning Jennie against remaining 
 up late. 
 
 I am not an advocate of late hour keeping, but 
 under such circumstances I believe if ever a fel- 
 low is warranted in holding forth until the short 
 hours of the morning, under such he certainly 
 would be, and so thought I then. We were both 
 bashful, and the dreadful quietness which seized 
 the room when the chatter which had been perme- 
 ating the atmosphere with such startling rapidity for 
 hours had become a thing v. * the past, it almost 
 caused one to think of a fungal, and all those 
 beautiful thoughts that had been cherished for two 
 or three days to tell her when the opportunity pre-
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 29. 
 
 sented itself, now vanished. There is a stillness 
 which has a terror; such this would be occasion- 
 ally; however, we were both aware of the fact that 
 the more quietness that prevailed just now, the 
 earlier the time would be marked when the head 
 of the ranch would be dreaming of those oxen and 
 potatoes. Of course we could so arrange matters 
 that we would not be compelled to talk very loud 
 that the other might hear * * * and would get 
 along fairly well for a few hours, but you may im- 
 agine about what time the clock would register ere 
 this. Two long miles through the timber and a 
 very rough road before I could reach home, per- 
 haps the weather cold, or dark and rainy; if the 
 latter, to say the least, it was a terrible trip, for 
 in places the road was almost impassable, and then 
 there is always a dreadful fear that haunts boys 
 when called upon to pass through heavy timber on 
 occasions like this. The trees each apparently 
 harbor some formidable creature with eyes glaring 
 at you, or claws outstretched, ready to light upon 
 your quivering frame as you pass. More than 
 once in making this trip, which I did very fre- 
 quently, has my hair. been caused to seemingly 
 turn to bristles, and my heart beat like a drum- 
 stick, and on such occasions I would solemnly de- 
 cide in my own mind that never would I remain 
 so late again, but on the next occasion the very 
 same hour would perhaps call my departure from 
 the cottage where the flower of my existence held 
 forth.
 
 30. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 Charity is like truth, it is mighty and must pre- 
 vail, and it is hardly probable that any youth ever 
 had this idea more firmly imbeded in his cranium 
 than did I. I apparently moved in a different 
 sphere while in her presence, and certainly did 
 while all the little McGinnes' were around. 
 
 These trips across the country were usually 
 made on horseback, and the terror that would 
 overcome an individual under the circumstances 
 above related, when learning that the faithful ani- 
 mal had broken loose and endeavored, to keep 
 better hours than his rider, left me behind to 
 mourn his departure, can be imagined. , Among 
 all my numerous trips, however, this happened 
 only once; but, oh, that once! It was enough for 
 a lifetime, and now I do not need to seek very 
 deep in memory's store house to bring forth the 
 incident. 
 
 It was on one Sunday afternoon in autumn, I 
 placed the saddle upon a young horse, a very 
 nice one, too, which was the favorite with my 
 father. The animal was feeling quite gay, and to 
 do justice to all concerned, we might say the rider 
 was about ditto. There was a school house about 
 a mile beyond where McGinnis lived, and I was 
 in the habit of attending Sunday school there i.i 
 the afternoon and then stop at the place of attrac- 
 tion on my return. On this particular afternoon 
 I visited this place, as was the custom, and after 
 the meeting was out I loitered around for a short 
 time with a number of other boys, and finally
 
 1I1.S LIKE AND TRIALS. 31. 
 
 went quite a distance from the house with one of 
 .them; when returning the people had all departed, 
 and likewise my horse, as he had broken loose. 
 The timber was very dense around there and the 
 undergrowth in places was so thick it would be 
 impossible for a horse to get through with saddle 
 and bridle on, without becoming entangled. My 
 blood almost stood still for a moment, for I knew 
 that while it was possible the horse would follow 
 the road around and reach home in safety, it was 
 not at all probable, for its natural inclination 
 would be to start directly east, which was an im- 
 passable country under the circumstances. What 
 would the man of the house at home say, and oh, 
 golly, how could I ever make it around to see Jen- 
 nie! It was simply hoping in the face of an inevita- 
 ble fate, and should that pride of my father be 
 found strangled in the woods, if discovered at all, 
 I could only conjecture the consequences. It was 
 almost sundown, three miles from home, two 
 creeks to cross, horse to find, girl to sec, and a 
 mind so bewildered I could not tell how old 
 I was. 
 
 I bid my friend a hurried good-night and start- 
 ed for home, endeavoring if possible to trace the 
 horse, but as darkness was coining on, I did not 
 dare remain in the woods on foot. I covered 
 those three miles in an alarming short time, and 
 reached home just at dusk; but to reach home was 
 but to add woe to my misery.
 
 32. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 My father usually kept some men around the 
 place -to assist in farm work, and besides, I had a 
 brother that would find no greater delight than 
 torturing me under such circumstances. It is 
 needless to say that I sought the barn yard the 
 very first move. Father was at the house, and I 
 did not break the news to him, and much to my 
 surprise, the boys rather sympathized and looked 
 upon my dilema from a standpoint of commisera- 
 tion rather than jest. This of course did nothing 
 toward finding the horse, but helped to raise the 
 cloud slightly, as I expected a great hurrah from 
 them when they discovered my position. A lost 
 horse and a waiting girl! where is the boy that 
 could think of resting under these conditions? 
 I immediately saddled another horse and ostensi- 
 bly went to look for the lost one, but despite the 
 terror brought upon me by the thought that the poor 
 brute was possibly tangled up in the timber and at 
 the point of death from strangulation, the thought of 
 the girl reigned first, and ere I had proceeded a mile 
 on my mission as horse seeker, the thought of her 
 anxious, disappointed looks and waiting were more 
 than I could bear, and I came to the conclusion, 
 horse or no horse, I would go and see the girl, 
 and did so. I .tried to smooth my conscience 
 over with the thought that all will be well in the 
 morning and the lost be standing at the gate. It 
 was very late when I arrived, but the father of the 
 generation had not yet decided upon retiring. His 
 tales seemed dreadfully dry to-night, and I was
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 3J. 
 
 figgity, but stuck it out, and after he had departed, 
 I broke the news to Jennie. She was considera- 
 bly wrought up over my misfortune, whether from 
 real feeling for me or the horse, I could not say, 
 but she sympathized with me and of course advo- 
 cated the idea of "all would be well in the morn- 
 ing." After an hour of talking on different sub- 
 jects, the horse question rather lost its grip upon 
 me and I lived in something like a state of enjoy- 
 ment for awhile until after the night had reached 
 its summit by several minutes. 
 
 I had no more than reached the poor creature 
 that was to carry me home, after leaving the house, 
 than the thought broke forth afresh and with all 
 its former terror. There was no use, I could not 
 sleep in such a troubled state of mind, so resolved 
 to take a little scout around for the horse. It was 
 like looking for a lost child in London. The idea of 
 looking for a horse in two or three thousand acres 
 of timber, and that in the night; yet the hunting, in 
 a measure, satisfied a burning conscience. I kept 
 up the search until nearly daylight, and then went 
 home in despair, to find there nothing but disap- 
 pointment again. I went to the house, and had 
 just placed my head on the place of rest, when 
 the family became aroused and began preparing 
 for the day. 
 
 There was no use dodging the issue any longer; 
 the news must now be spread before the old gen- 
 tleman. I thought there was but two things to do; 
 one was to tell him and rush out and jump into
 
 34- THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 the well, or to get my brother to act as spokes- 
 man, after I had again started out to search for the 
 lost treasure. I decided upon the latter; and by the 
 time the sun had reached the height to be in full 
 view I was on the road. Tom broke the news to 
 the head of the family after he was sure I was out 
 of reach, and then he sought the realms of the 
 barn; in other words, a case of "flee from the 
 wrath to come." It is not necessary to pen the 
 words that fell from his lips when Tom had 
 finished. 
 
 I scoured the woods, I thought completely, un- 
 til about noon, but my efforts were as barren as 
 the desert, and the loss of sleep, together with 
 the worry, began to tell on me. It seemed I 
 could hold out no longer, and I went home resolv- 
 ing to let come what might. 
 
 Upon reaching the gate I was almost completely 
 exhausted. By this time, however, the wrath of 
 my progenitor had somewhat subsided, and I ap- 
 proached him in such a meek, sneaking way, that 
 he took pity on me and did not lecture me very 
 severely, yet he did not say anything about my 
 resting, but had Tom saddle another horse and 
 accompany me, with instructions to seek until 
 found. It was almost like placing a man in a 
 stale of exile, for it now began to dawn upon me 
 there, would be nothing more to eat until the horse 
 was found, unless I went over to see Jennie; the 
 pride which I possessed forbade me doing this.
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIAL. 35. 
 
 Tom sympathized with me now, and after going 
 for an hour or so we came to some thickets; it 
 was impossible to proceed further on horseback, 
 so I hitched my horse and placed my limber frame 
 upon the ground. We agreed that should we find 
 the object of our search, the fact was to be made 
 
 known by a shout. 
 
 Such an effort as it was to walk, but I proceeded 
 on and on, wandering hither and thither, until the 
 sun was crawling considerably to the westward. 
 What would we do should night again approach 
 and the horse not found? I could never go home, 
 and it was out of the question to remain there after 
 dusk, as it was all one could do to get around 
 in the daylight. 
 
 After having kept this up until just about ready 
 to give up in despair, I heard Tom shout; the 
 blood in my veins started afresh and I was changed 
 in an instant, but then the thought flashed across 
 my mind, dead or alive; if the former, what then? 
 
 I rushed toward the sound of his voice with all 
 possible dispatch, and upon reaching him, you 
 may imagine my surprise and delight to find every- 
 thing all right, with the exception of a few broken 
 straps. The horse had simply become entangled, 
 and there waited patiently, or not exactly patient- 
 ly either, as the ground gave evidence that all the 
 waiting had not been as patient as it might have 
 been, but it waited because it could not do other- 
 wise.
 
 36. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 I lost just as little time as possible after this 
 until I had my feet under the table and was par- 
 taking of the luxuries of the land, with a clear 
 conscience, but, I guess, a sneaking appearance. 
 
 After this, father McGinnis always took partic- 
 ular pains to see that my horse was placed in his 
 barn during my stay there, and as practice makes 
 perfect, I soon learned the crooks of his barn and 
 could go in - and get my animal without difficulty.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 AMBITION AND ITS FRUITS. 
 
 A year or so passed without Anything of much 
 importance occurring, during which time I was 
 attending school in winter and laboring on the 
 farm in summer, forgetting what I had conquered 
 in an intellectual line during the winter; but as 
 most of the boys of my age there in the neighbor- 
 hood did not even attend school in the winter, I 
 was considered quite fortunate in this regard. All 
 this time, too, my visits at the house of Jennie was 
 as regular as of old. By this time I had become 
 so familiar with all the family I could assist in the 
 grand drag, at retiring time for the kids, with a 
 good grace, and was only anxious for the ap- 
 proach of such time. The antique man had told 
 me all the tales he knew five or six times, and 
 every incident of his life from kidhood to old age, 
 I think, but I had to swallow it all without a whim- 
 per, or at least, thought so. 
 
 About this time my ambition began to burst 
 over its bounds, and I came to the conclusion I 
 had been in the intellectual rut long enough, and 
 that something must be done to give my cogitative 
 powers more sway and a larger field, consequently 
 
 448401
 
 38. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 it was decided that Jack be allowed to attend 
 school in a neighboring village during the winter. 
 Upon receiving assurance of this fact, I was appa- 
 rently six inches taller and imagined that after a 
 short course in "town school," to cause a stag- 
 nation in the business world and grapple with 
 the mighty men of the earth would require but a 
 meagre effort on my part. The village was only 
 about ten miles from home, but my back once 
 turned upon the dfudgery of farm life, I was fair- 
 ly well satisfied, for I little questioned but what I 
 was going to make my strike in life in a few 
 months at the longest. 
 
 The place .was small, and the people a very 
 nice class of individuals. But of course they 
 could at a glance penetrate my extreme greenness, 
 yet they sympathized with me and treated me 
 kindly, and I shall always remember the people 
 of Roxbury with liindness. I soon became ac- 
 quainted, had the rough edges knocked off little 
 by little, until in a few weeks I was enjoying life 
 very well and at the same time getting a little phi- 
 losophy and cold mathematics impressed upon my 
 obtuse mind. I studied a little occasionally when 
 the circumstances demanded, and usually had my 
 lessons as well as the average. 
 
 There was quite a large school, and, as would 
 naturally follow, there was quite a number of ideal 
 school girls, some of which I thought tolerably 
 nice, and the more I let this idea operate upon 
 me the more I became impressed with the fact
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 39. 
 
 that there were really others of the fairer portion 
 of the race besides Jennie, and I did not seem to 
 like her as I used to; did not see her very often 
 and did not take occasion to write very promptly 
 after receiving her letters. That I treated her 
 real mean, would be about the proper expression. 
 When I occasionally went to see her during my 
 stay in town she would accuse me of inattention 
 regarding her, and insinuate that I was allowing 
 my copious affections to float in other directions. 
 Of course I would positively deny that I had ever 
 allowed any such thoughts to meander through 
 my rapidly developing brain; but the fact of the 
 matter was, I never seemed to care very much 
 for Jennie except while in her presence; -and, as 
 Lew Wallace says, "There is no philosophy in such 
 love," etc. 
 
 It always pleased me to visit home about once 
 a month, sometimes a little oftener, and remain a 
 day or two and then return to school. On one of 
 these occasions, for the second time in my exist- 
 ence, I thought the time had arrived for me to 
 cross the golden gutter and render up an account 
 of my stewardship to the man at the gate. 
 
 It was customary for me to remain at home on 
 such visits during Saturday, and until Sunday 
 evening, and then return; but on this particular 
 date, on account of a severe snow storm, it was 
 decided I had better wait until the next day. 
 There were some neighboring boys that lived about 
 a mile from our home, and being very anxious to see
 
 40. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 them, Tom and I resolved we would go over and 
 call on them that evening. 
 
 We went on horseback, and I was perched upon 
 the back of a fleet-footed animal, though young, 
 and not familiar to carrying a passenger through 
 a driving snow storm. The snow had drifted 
 very deep in places, and it being so cold and dis- 
 agreeable, we wished to abbreviate the time re- 
 quired to pass over the intervening space between 
 home and the object of our mission, hence we 
 were riding very rapidly, and in passing over the 
 brow of a small hill, in starting down the incline, 
 we ran right into a snow drift, and the horse which 
 carried me stumbled and fell, throwing me com- 
 pletely over his head, and I struck on my back in 
 the snow. The fall did not hurt me much, the 
 snow being very light, but the animal was fright- 
 ened and in floundering around to get up, struck 
 me squarely in the face with his front foot. Talk 
 about astronomy, but I think the stars I saw would 
 fully equal the number of the whole universe, and 
 but from the fact that the horse had no shoe on, 
 I would, beyond a doubt, there and then, have 
 joined the silent majority. As it was, the snow-being 
 soft, my head gave way easily and the hoof of the 
 animal slipped off, not, however, without having 
 taken considerable of the cuticle from my face. 
 Fright, pain and cold together wrought upon me 
 to such an extent that I did not know whether to 
 conclude I was sure enough dead, or whether I 
 should get up. Tom came to my rescue and
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 41. 
 
 picked up what there was left of me, but when he 
 saw the disfigured condition of my features he was 
 considerably excited. Acting upon first impulse, 
 he tied our handkerchiefs around my face, recap- 
 tured the horses and we turned homeward, being 
 then about half a mile from home. Upon reach- 
 ing the house I was a frightful looking sight, the 
 blood having run down and frozen in all sorts of 
 shapes on my face; this, together with the hand- 
 kerchief blurring it around, caused me to resem- 
 ble an inhabitant of the morgue. Poor mother 
 was frightened half to cleaA, but true to a mother's 
 nature, she soon had my face washed and band- 
 aged as best she could and my dilapidated form 
 placed in bed. By receiving kind treatment and 
 the very best possible care, I was soon able to be 
 up, and in the course of a week or so went back 
 to school, although the wounds were not yet all 
 healed up; time, however, placed my face in 
 about as respectable a condition as ever, with the 
 exception of one or two small scars which were 
 stamped there for life. 
 
 Circumstances under which I was placed while 
 attending school here, brought me in contact with 
 a people that had a tendency somewhat to change 
 my life to a certain extent morally, and despite 
 boyish hilarity and fun, which is natural in a 
 human, I felt the need of something a little differ- 
 ent, a little more peace of mind. In other words, 
 I awoke to the fact that man has interests other 
 than those that are material; he has aspirations
 
 42. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 that sweep beyond time and this world; he is more 
 than his body; he is greater than his life; he has 
 a vision that is not of the eye; he has within, a 
 "still small voice" that compels attention now and 
 then. We are apt to forget these things in this 
 whirling age and country. Most of us are utter- 
 ly immersed in worldy pursuits and wholly occu- 
 pied with selfish struggles, so that the moral part 
 of our nature is wholly neglected. I do not say 
 that people should not improve their material 
 fortunes, but still there is something else that must 
 not be overlooked. There is a moral nature, the 
 neglect of which means moral death. 
 
 When the pulse beats high and we are flushed 
 with youth and health and vigor, when all goes on 
 prosperously, and success seems almost to antici- 
 pate our wishes, then we feel not the want of the 
 consolation of a religion; but when fortune frowns, 
 or friends forsake us, when sorrow or sickness 
 comes upon us, then it is that the superiority of the 
 pleasure of religion is established over those of 
 dissipation and vanity, which are ever apt to fly 
 from us when we are most in want of their aid. 
 The man who believes there is no God, no im- 
 mortality, and that when he dies he will melt into 
 the earth to be seen no more, like the snow flake 
 sinking into the ocean, certainly wants one of the 
 most wonderful stimulants to intellectual and moral 
 advancement. 
 
 Weary human nature lays its head on the bosom 
 of the Divine Word, or it has no where to lay its
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 43. 
 
 head. Tremblers on the verge of the dark and 
 terrible valley which parts the land of the living 
 from the untried hereafter, take this hand of hu- 
 man tenderness, yet of God-like strength, or they 
 totter into the gloom without stop or stay. I had 
 at times been considering life from a moral stand- 
 point, but to me religion seemed very strange, 
 things had changed very materially sincje the ush- 
 ering in the Christian era, and the question was, 
 If Christ had been the real Christ, as was claimed, 
 and had established his church, as we are told he 
 did, who had the right to change it? That the 
 mode of procedure was different than 1800 years 
 before, must be noticeable to even the casual ob- 
 server; hence, when I found a people that were 
 worshiping under the system established accord- 
 ing to the Holy Writ, I united with them, and I 
 cannot say that I have ever repented that act; in 
 fact, am satisfied it was one proper step of my 
 life. This did not, as many seem to think it does, 
 lessen the pleasure of life in the least. I was 
 naturally endowed with a desire to have sport, 
 and when any practical joking was going on, my 
 name might always be figured in the list, and 
 sometimes such action has caused me more or less 
 trouble. 
 
 One instance I remember particularly, which 
 occurred along in the Spring, while I was yet attend- 
 ing school there, and it came near proving seri- 
 ous. Pete Brown, a fellow that boarded at the 
 same place I did, and I went down to the express
 
 44- THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 office one evening after dark to get a valuable 
 package. We noticed as we passed the railroad 
 depot that there was one of those three-wheeled 
 railroad tricycles sitting there, which was natural- 
 ly very tempting to us. We proceeded to the ex- 
 press office, secured the package and was return- 
 ing; but on again reaching the depot, the tricycle 
 still sitting there, we could not resist the tempta- 
 tion. The agent was in the office, and the tricycle 
 belonged to a friend of his, that was also in the 
 office, having run down from a neighboring station 
 fpr a visit. They were talking and laughing, and 
 without further preliminaries, we threw the package 
 into an empty box-car, pulled the wheeled machine 
 out onto the track, and both got on. It moved 
 off so nicely we were delighted, and before we had 
 gone half a mile it seemed out of the question to 
 turn around, so we kept on going. After getting 
 out a mile or two, the idea struck us to proceed to 
 the next town, which we did. 
 
 Whatever prompted us to do such a thing I can- 
 not now imagine, but all thoughts of the package 
 and the forlorn box-car were forgotten. After 
 going several miles, the novelty of the business 
 began to wear off, but we pressed on until we 
 reached the point we started for. Then came the 
 return, which was not near so pleasant. We kept 
 changing off, one working the handles awhile and 
 then the other, but it was very evident that it was 
 getting far into the night, and the changes more 
 frequent every mile, and besides we were cold.
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 45. 
 
 By this time we commenced to regret our adven- 
 ture, and wish we were at home in bed; however, 
 by persistent effort we reached the town about 
 midnight, and then the thought of the package 
 began to dawn upon us. The depot was locked 
 up, and every one gone, and on going to the box- 
 car where we had deposited our treasure, our 
 hearts almost ceased to beat, * * * it was gone. 
 What could we do or say to claim the .package! if 
 taken by the agent, would but be to give the snap 
 away, and if stolen, what should we do, as we 
 were cautioned to be careful with it. Although 
 we searched and searched for the lost package, it 
 was worse than folly, and finally went home sad- 
 der but much wiser. What could we tell the 
 folks that had sent us for the package? Scheme 
 as we might, there seemed to be no outlet, unless 
 the package was cheap enough that we could 
 afford to duplicate it. 
 
 Next morning we answered the call for break- 
 fast, looking about as sneaking as ft is possible 
 for any one with a human face to look, and feeling, 
 if it were possible, even worse than we looked. 
 There was nothing under the sun that we could 
 do but explain; the expressman held our receipt 
 for the package and there was no use to deny get- 
 ting it. We told the whole truth about the mat- 
 ter, and "we were sick of our job," and all that; 
 but that did not replace the package, and upon 
 inquiry we found it far more valuable than our 
 limited funds could stand to replace. There was
 
 46. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 yet but one hope, and that was, the young lady 
 that had sent us for the package was a very inti- 
 mate friend of the agent, and we appealed to her. 
 I presume now she wished to teach us a lesson, 
 for she did not give us much satisfaction, but 
 nevertheless I am confident she went and had an 
 interview with the station agent, when we were 
 not aware of it, for we were informed, though not 
 directly, that the agent had the package. She 
 insisted that we go and ask him for it, which-, 
 after waiting all day, we reluctantly complied 
 with her request. The agent was wrathy, and 
 we were frightened. He cornered us up and 
 made us confess that we took the wheel, which 
 did not belong to us, and he further informed 
 us that the wheel was broken; in short, he gave 
 us such a talk that the hair was standing al- 
 most perpendicular on our heads when we sneaked 
 out of the depot without the package. He de- 
 manded much more money than we could pay, 
 and besides* threatened to have us arrested. "We 
 told the man we were boarding with, he took the 
 matter in hand, and finally we allowed it to run 
 along until it was in the hands of the marshal, 
 when a compromise was effected by our paying a 
 certain amount. We then breathed natural again 
 for the first time in two or three days. This is one 
 of the most valuable lessons I have ever learned, 
 and it has stuck to me thus far through life, and 
 I believe, though I should live to count many 
 and many moons yet, I would never be accused 
 of taking what did not belong to me, even for 
 sport, where such serious trouble might result.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 DEATH ANGEL ENTERS THE FAMILY. 
 
 Summer soon came now, and instead of rush- 
 ing out and surprising the civilized world by my 
 startling maneuvers, I was forced to return to the 
 farm. Oh, but it was tough to go to work again, 
 those long, hot spring days, after living in town 
 and doing but little. It was so much harder to 
 work than it had been before, but time wore 
 things back into their usual channel, and life was 
 something as it had been in other days. Being 
 forced to return to the farm, my city pride left 
 me, and I again began to visit the McGinnis ranch, 
 with as much pleasure, or nearly so, as of old. 
 Soon after my return from school, however, an 
 incident took place which cast a shadow over my 
 life, a shadow which can never be raised. 
 
 Though it was but what is inevitable in human 
 existence, yet we were wholly unprepared on this 
 occasion. The cause of the trouble was that the 
 death angel entered the family and claimed one of 
 its inmates. What a strange occurrence it is, to be 
 sure, and while it is sometimes so sudden and un- 
 expected, sometimes lingering for years at the 
 very threshold, yet the wise men of our land are
 
 48- THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 unable to solve its mysteries. One of our writers 
 once said, in writing on this subject: "Life is a 
 journey; the end is nearing when the still monster 
 is wont to approach. Life is a race, the goal will 
 soon be reached; it is a voyage, the port will soon 
 be in sight; are we not justifiable in saying, time is 
 but a narrow isthmus between two extremes; we 
 are all going. How many things you have already 
 left behind! the old home, friends, parents, scenes 
 of childhood and early years! How much of the 
 way you have passed over! You will never return 
 to the place from whence you started! You are 
 going on and on, always from your early years! 
 It is a startling thought that our business will soon 
 be left behind; that our work will soon be done, 
 and that we shall leave this stage of being leave 
 it forever, our homes and cares, and all the in- 
 terests that engage us here, and never, never more 
 come back in this condition again." 
 
 In meditating upon this thought we call to mind 
 another quotation on the same subject, which 
 reads: "Life is like a summer's residence at a 
 bathing place. When you arrive, you first become 
 acquainted with those who have been there for 
 some weeks, and who leave you in a few days. 
 This separation is painful. Then you turn your 
 attention to those who arrived with you. With 
 them you live a good while and become really 
 intimate. But soon the most of these go also, 
 and you are left lonely with those that came about 
 the time you were going away. You have but lit-
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 49. 
 
 tit to do with them. Some stay long, some but a 
 short time in this world. Some souls blossom al- 
 most as soon as they enter this life, and then they 
 depart. The flower that opens when it breaks 
 from the ground, and then dies, is an emblem of 
 the infant that dies. Violets are the children and 
 youth who finish their mission near life's entrance 
 and then depart. 
 
 "But every life, no matter how short, accom- 
 plishes something. An infant, a prattling child, 
 dying in its cradle, will live again in the better 
 thoughts of those who loved it, and play its part, 
 through them, in the redeeming actions of the 
 world, though its body be burned to ashes or 
 drowned in the deepest sea. There is not an 
 angel added to the host of heaven, but does its 
 blessed work on earth, in those that loved it here. 
 Oh, if the good deeds of human creatures could 
 be traced to their source, how beautiful would 
 even death appear! How much charity, mercy 
 and purified affections would be seen to arise from 
 beds of death! 
 
 "When death strikes down the innocent and 
 young, to every fragile form from which he lets 
 the panting spirit free, a hundred virtues arise in 
 shapes of mercy, charity and love, to walk the 
 world and bless it. Of every tear that sorrowing 
 mortals shed on such green graves, some good is 
 born, some gentler nature comes. In the destroy- 
 er's steps there springs up bright creations that 
 defy his power, and his dark path becomes a way
 
 50. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 of light to "heaven. There is nothing in all the 
 earth that we can do for the dead. They do 
 not need us, but we forever and forever more need 
 them." 
 
 What a memorable epoch in the history of a 
 home is that in which death finds his first entrance 
 within its sacred mclosures, and with ruthless 
 hand, breaks the first link of a golden chain that 
 creates its identity! That event is never forgot- 
 ten. It may be the first born, in the radiant beauty 
 of youth, or the babe in the first bursting of life's 
 budding loveliness, or a father in the midst of his 
 anxious cares, or the mother who gave light and 
 happiness to all around her, whoever it is, the 
 first death makes a breach there which no subse- 
 quent bereavement can equal. New feelings are 
 then awakened; a new order of associates is then 
 commenced; hopes and fears are then aroused that 
 never subside, and the mysterious web of family 
 life receives the hue of a new and darker thread. 
 
 Most of us have stood and wrung our hands at 
 parting with some one who will never more 
 come back to us in this world, but such partings 
 and memories are not wholly in vain. There are 
 things back of us, known only to heaven, which 
 have greatly shaped our lives. There are faces, 
 and the pressure of hands, and snatches of song, 
 and the light of long closed eyes, and the far dis- 
 tant murmur of solemn prayer, which we treas- 
 ure evermore. There ARE those with faith enough 
 to think that by and by the old faces will be seen
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 51. 
 
 once more, the loved voices heard anew, and all 
 the lost ones will be once more found, but here 
 the horrible shadow of doubt flashes across my 
 mind, and I am lost in its mysteries. 
 
 The flower fadeth, but the seed and the fruit 
 remain; and this teaches us there is nothing to 
 sadden us in the process of decay in nature and 
 vegetation. This is preliminary to a higher growth. 
 Our present life, with all its activities and enjoy- 
 ments, is but the flower form of a being whose 
 fruit form is found in an after and higher life, and 
 decay and death are no more than the falling of 
 petals from the well-set fruit. 
 
 Of all the solemnities of which the mind can 
 conceive, death is the greatest. There may be, 
 here and there, an empty heart and a thoughtless 
 brain, across which no meditations pass for months, 
 or even years; but these are exceptional characters, 
 and leave unaffected the truth that no reflection 
 comes to man with such uniformity and power as 
 the thought that, in a few years, we shall all be 
 far away. That which is thus universal must be 
 for the common good. Death comes equally to 
 all, and makes us all equal when he comes. The 
 ashes of an oak in the chimney are no epitaph of 
 the tree; it tells us not how high it was, how large 
 it was, or what flocks it sheltered while it stood. 
 The fate which overtook that tree is a fit emblem 
 of death, which, in its restless course, levels alike 
 the king and the peasant, the wise and the igno- 
 rant, the rich and the poor, the old and the young.
 
 52. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 This world is the subdued and vested domain of 
 death. The history of the past is a record of the 
 triumph of the king of terrors. In all lands the 
 generation of the departed outnumber the living, 
 and all that now live must soon taste death. 
 There is no pathway of life where the destroyer 
 may not be met at any moment. There is no 
 home from which the grim shadow of death can 
 be shut out. The bloom of youth, the strength of 
 manhood, the glory of age, are withered in his icy 
 breath, as the late flowers wither in the frost of 
 autumn. 
 
 But if this be the gateway to future good, why 
 should we dread it? Were we deprived of all 
 hopes of a future existence, still constituted as we 
 are, to the great majority of us, the time must 
 come when even annihilation would be preferable 
 to continued existence. Could we always live 
 young, in the possession of health, strength and 
 friends, the case might be different; but age and 
 infirmities will be our lot, the heart will grow 
 weary and we long for rest. 
 
 In all the returns and gatherings of earth there 
 are some missing. Many times the lost are more 
 than the found. The further we go on the jour- 
 ney of life, the fewer of the friends of youth are 
 left to keep us company. When we visit a former 
 home after a long absence, and enquire for the 
 friends of other years, we are told of one and an- 
 other that they have gone the way whence they 
 will not return. And, as time passes on, we are
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIAL. 53. 
 
 all getting more names for the roll of our acquaint- 
 ances, whose places are vacant, who gather with 
 us no more, who answer not when their names are 
 called. The crowd presses on with hurried and 
 heedless tread in the very path out of which men 
 are constantly passing from time into eternity, 
 sometimes at a single step. 
 
 The flame of life burns so feebly upon the secret 
 altar of the heart that it can be put out by a sud- 
 den jar or a single breath. The partition between 
 us and the unseen world is as thin as the garments 
 that clothe our flesh, and as easily pierced as the 
 bubbles that float on the waves. As life is thus 
 critical, any word may be our last, any farewell, 
 even amid glee and merriment, may be forever. 
 If this truth were but burned into our conscious- 
 ness, would it not give a new meaning to all our 
 human relationship? How much more kindness 
 would there be in the world were this thought acted 
 upon. 
 
 Human friends may go hand in hand to the very 
 brink of the cold river that rolls between this and 
 the unseen land. They may do much to soothe 
 and sustain each other as the last hour draws near. 
 But there is a point beyond which human help 
 cannot go. Every one of us must advance to 
 meet the great and final foe, with no human hand 
 on which to lean. We must turn away our faces 
 from our earthly friends, and pass in under the 
 deep shadow of eternity without their company.
 
 54- THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 Each individual must stand exposed to the dread 
 arrow of the great destroyer, with none to turn 
 aside the shaft. 
 
 We believe that life was made to be enjoyed, 
 and he who would dampen all pleasures, with 
 mournful reflections on the. fleeting nature of 
 earthly enjoyments, displays but little wisdom, to 
 say the least. But still there are times when, as 
 reasonable creatures, it becomes us to contem- 
 plate that solemn moment when for the soul, time 
 ends and eternity begins. Our friends may stretch 
 out their hands to keep us back, but no entreaties 
 on their part can change the course of events. 
 They might offer large retainers, but death accepts 
 no fee. The breath will fail, the eyes will close, 
 the heart will cease to beat. You may hang the 
 couch with gorgeous tapistry, but death respects 
 no finery. 
 
 We, as a multitude, are hurrying along; we are 
 chained to the chariot of revolving time; there is 
 no bridling the steed nor leaping from the chariot, 
 and some are even so burdened with the sorrows 
 of life, that they rashly invoke the presence of the 
 death angel, and of their own will, lay aside the 
 robes of flesh. 
 
 Life, no doubt, should be a scene of happiness; 
 but largely from our own fault, it is true, all know 
 that it abounds with many trying scenes. Won- 
 derful is the power of death to disarm resentment, 
 to kindle anew the fires of love and friendship 
 in the heart. When the veil has been drawn be-
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 55. 
 
 'tween us and the object of our regard, how quick 
 sighted do we become to their merits, and how 
 bitterly do we remember words, or even looks, of 
 unkindness, which may have escaped in our inter- 
 course with them. How .careful should such 
 thoughts render us in the fulfillment of offices of 
 affection which may yet be in our power to per- 
 form! Who can tell how soon the moment may 
 arise when repentance cannot be followed by rep- 
 aration! Probably, if we were to think more upon 
 this subject, not in a somber, melancholy sort of 
 way, but as becomes rational beings, we would do 
 many things differently than we do at present." 
 
 'Twas the first time I had ever known real sor- 
 row, and for this reason, among others, I was not 
 fully prepared for what took place. My oldest 
 sister, Nellie, was several years my senior, and 
 had been the one I was wont to acquaint with my 
 minor troubles, and when in doubt I always went 
 to her, and, although she had been married for a 
 number of years, her home was not far from burs, 
 and, regardless of how busy she might be with 
 the affairs of life, she always had a willingness to 
 listen to my difficulties, and never failed to have 
 words of comfort and encouragement to offer. In 
 short, she had almost spoiled me. I would not 
 think of taking up a study without first consulting 
 her, and no matter what my opinion might have 
 been, her decision, with me, was final. I acted 
 'upon her advice, and though many years have now 
 passed since she crossed over to the other shore,
 
 56. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 I wish I might be able to council with her yet, get 
 advice from her and profit thereby. Had she 
 lived, no doubt my life would have been different, 
 my career would have been less checkered, and 
 my existence more pleasant. 
 
 The remark is common, that death always seems 
 to call upon the best first, and while we sometimes 
 hear this questioned, I hardly think it could have 
 been in this case, at least it was r>~t with rne. 
 Sometimes, immediately following her deat 1 . , I 
 would find myself lost in meditation, trying to 
 solve the mysteries connected with death, and why 
 could not some one else have been taken in her 
 place. I felt that I would have willingly acted as 
 a substitute, but the angel that brought the mes- 
 sage did not leave it to our option, nor did he 
 question us as to who should answer the summons. 
 When thinking over it, for perhaps an hour, and 
 having reached the maximum of my meditative 
 powers, I would find myself driven completely to 
 the wall, and with bewildered thoughts I could 
 but exclaim, My God, where is the justice in this! 
 
 She was only sick a few days, but despite every 
 effort that kind hands or loving hearts could do, 
 even the medical skill of the age, she gradually 
 grew worse. . Hope as we might, it all seemed 
 purely in vain, and when for a tirr.e we imagined 
 the worst was over, it afterwards transpired that 
 death was but withholding his stern hand appar- 
 ently to increase our burning anxiety. Living 
 and hoping under such circumstances soon be-
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 57. 
 
 comes terrible, at least so it was with me, for I do 
 not believe it is possible for the feeling between 
 sister and brother to be stronger than was the 
 feeling that existed between Nellie and I. Finally 
 we were forbidden to go "into the room; it was only 
 then that I began to realize that the worst was 
 at hand, and the thought that I must never see 
 her again in her rational mind, seemed almost un- 
 bearable. All the afternoon we lived in this awful 
 suspense, then night came, and with it a terrible 
 storm; it really seemed that the death angel had 
 combined with the elements to make our existence 
 as terrible as it could be. The blinding lightning, 
 the horrible peals of thunder, and the rush and 
 roar of the driving hail and rain, caused an un- 
 common and frightening noise, but it disturbed 
 not the pale face and quiet form upon the couch 
 that was so soon to be the scene of death. All 
 hope of her reviving was at last given up, and the 
 family permitted to gather around her. What 
 then followed is as fresh in my memory as though 
 it were but a few months ago, instead of years. 
 The fact was only too evident that life was 
 taking its departure; it seemed my blood stood 
 still, I could not realize that the surrounding 
 circumstances were a reality. She spoke a few 
 words of advice, addressing them more particu- 
 larly to mother, then one last, longing look at her 
 husband, and all was over. The rain still con- 
 tinued to beat against the side of the house, the 
 lightning flashed and the thunder continued its
 
 58. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 terrible peals, but it had a different sound to us 
 now. I do not believe it is within the power 
 of even death to strike a harder blow than this 
 was, when we fully realized that all earthly hope 
 had vanished. From that hour I was different; I 
 have never looked upon life in exactly the same 
 light since. And even now, sometimes when sit- 
 ting alone in my room, when the storm is howling 
 without, my mind runs back through all these years, 
 and I think of a little mound, in a lonely place, 
 many miles away, and before I am aware of the 
 fact, I discover a silent tear stealing down my 
 cheek, in reverence to that thought.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ATTEND SCHOOL FOR THE PURPOSE OF MAS- 
 TERING SHORTHAND. 
 
 In the State of Iowa, located on one of its beau- 
 tiful, rolling prairies, stands the little town of 
 Hardstudy. From every point of compass the sur- 
 rounding country is beautiful to behold. The in- 
 habitants, about three thousand in number, were 
 of the middle class, honest, or at least, claimed 
 to be, most of them energetic, and hence had a 
 thriving little village. In the eastern part of the 
 little burg, located on a slight elevation, stood a 
 college building, with a capacity of accommodating 
 about seven or eight hundred green country boys 
 and girls each year, for the purpose of having 
 their intellectual faculties brushed up a little, pre- 
 paring them, as most of them presumed when 
 they went there, for coming statesmen or world- 
 startlers. From the glowing advertisements that 
 had flooded the country for two or three hundred 
 miles around, in every direction, most of those 
 attending, presumed that education was hanging 
 around on bushes, and all a fellow had to do was 
 to pay his money, pick up an educntion, have 
 some fun, and spring into life ? s arena fully equipped
 
 60. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 to meet its stern realities. Some who went with 
 these expectations, left a few months later, poorer, 
 sadder and wiser. 
 
 As stated in the previous chapter, I earned 
 bread by the sweat of my brow during the coming 
 summer, after having attended school in the vil- 
 lage near home. My aspirations had been so com- 
 pletely mangled; I resolved this time I would 
 make a strike for life, so decided I would study 
 shorthand for life or death. I had my eye on the 
 above mentioned place, and after considerable 
 corresponding with the profess_or of the shorthand 
 department, resolved to cast my anchor there as 
 soon as the work on the farm would permit, and 
 then and there tangle my brain up with the mys- 
 teries of the art. The opening of our story re- 
 lates what took place when I broke the news to 
 the head of the family. It did not take a Phila- 
 delphia lawyer to discover from his actions that 
 he was not particularly anxious that I should pur- 
 sue this course of study, and in fact discouraged 
 it in every way possible; but I had been studying 
 over the subject of "farm or starve," for so long, 
 that I had about concluded to take chances on 
 the latter before engage in agricultural pursuits 
 another year. One of the greatest drawbacks to a 
 farmer boy when living at home is, he never sees 
 very much of the surplus finance, if it ever happens 
 there is any. He can work and work, raise crops, 
 stock and -pumpkins, sell them for a good price, 
 but what good does it do him? The farm is car-
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 6l. 
 
 ried on under the co-operative system, the head 
 of the house president, secretary and treasurer, 
 and the boys the employees; or, to give it a more 
 modern expression, would say, he is the grindee 
 of the monopoly. His remuneration consists of 
 his board and clothes, the latter depending very 
 materially upon the success of the bean and pump- 
 kin crop. Of course times were exceedingly hard, 
 as they always are, or at least always have been 
 since I was old enough to remember; but as the 
 fall months began to come, arrangements were 
 planned to give me one more push into the world. 
 With this thought in mind I worked hard, for I 
 had determined it would be the last work I should 
 do on the place that I had labored on all my life. 
 Thus far in life it has been, but during some dis- 
 couraging times which I have encountered since 
 then, I have thought my complaints were not 
 altogether well founded. 
 
 Tom and I had many pleasant times there, and, 
 as is the case with every human being who will, 
 we had our associates. I might here casually 
 mention that about this time, Jennie and I had a 
 "scrap," which resulted in a discontinuation of 
 my visits to the McGinnis ranch for some time 
 previous to my leaving home. Like most kids 
 do, we "parted forever," but as friends; however, 
 I did not meet her iri conversation after that be- 
 fore our departure. 
 
 The folks did not like to see me go, especially 
 mother, for while I had not positively asserted that
 
 62. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 I was turning my back upon the farm, everything 
 went to show that such were my intentions. 
 Everyone knows what the preliminaries are prior 
 to one's starting to school; mine was no exception; 
 if anything, it was worse than the average. 
 
 There were two or three going to Hardstudy from 
 the neighboring village where I had attended school 
 the previous winter, about the same time I did, so 
 we partially arranged to go together. One fellow 
 named Samuel Tough had arranged to occupy the 
 same room with me when we reached the place, 
 but owing to circumstances he left one day before 
 I did. 
 
 Sunday morning father took me to the village, 
 from which I was to start the next day for Hard- 
 study. One of my girl acquaintances was going 
 at the same time also, hence we arranged matters 
 accordingly. As tired as I was of farm life, it 
 was not an easy matter to leave, under the circum- 
 stances, but being of a superstitious character re- 
 garding looking back, when once started, I kept 
 my face straight forward. 
 
 We were to take the train at an early hour next 
 morning, t vo or three hours before day, but the 
 train was late and we waited a long time. After 
 going about sixty miles we reached the point where 
 we were to change cars and take another road/ 
 but we had missed connections. Neither of us 
 had ever traveled any, and there was nothing but 
 freight trains until the next day. Twas a shabby 
 little place, and nothing to interest one at all, so we
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 63. 
 
 resolved not to remain over night in the place. 
 There was a through freight coining along about 
 dusk that night, and for the want of better judg- 
 ment we decided to take that. We did, and we 
 were extremely sorry; reached Hardstudy about 
 two o'clock in the morning and walked a mile or 
 more to a hotel, found they only had room for one, 
 so I went on by myself to another place. 
 
 Next morning about nine o'clock I meandered 
 out to find the object of my search, the school 
 building. About half a mile out, I beheld what 
 was to be my place of existence for a few months, 
 the exact time I did not know. I did not seem 
 to have taken into consideration that there was a 
 tremendous lot of hard studying connected with 
 shorthand. I was thinking more of h aving a good 
 time and then, starting in life for myself. 
 
 Once in life fortune favored me, for the first 
 person I struck was Sam Tough; he had been 
 there and taken in the situation and knew the lay 
 of the land. When I left for the place I had 
 quite a wad of ducats, the most I had ever had at 
 one time in my life, and I guarded it with an 
 eagle eye, for I was not sure where the next was 
 to come from. Sam had arranged to board in 
 the building, so of course I should do the same. 
 The first pass he took me into the proprietor's 
 office and told him I wanted board for a term. 
 "Twenty dollars," says Mr. Proprietor, and I 
 grasped the wad, paid him and got my receipt. 
 Then we went to look for the shorthand "boss,"
 
 64. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 told him my errand. Thirty-five dollars for first 
 term, and I paid him. He also gave me a list of 
 books I was to get, which I immediately proceed- 
 ed to obtain. Room to'pay for, and coal to buy! 
 my, how my currency was melting! It was very 
 evident they understood that much of thjeir busi- 
 ness, viz: get the bulk of a fellow's pile before he 
 had time to spend it down town. 
 
 Sam had been on track of a room, but all he 
 could turn up was a dirty room in a building called 
 "The Students' Home." The words had a sort of 
 soothing influence, but they were as full of deceit 
 as an egg is full of meat. It was a square build- 
 ing containing twelve rooms, each room supposed 
 to be occupied by two students, making twenty- 
 four of us in the building, but it was an awful des- 
 olate place. The rooms were like stalls in a barn, 
 still, they answered the purpose, and rooms were 
 very scarce, for the school was large and the town 
 small. Sam said it was the best we could do now, 
 so we engaged it for one term.' We had the north- 
 west room on the ground floor, the worst room in 
 the building, and as cold as a summer kitchen; 
 but, nevertheless, we moved in and entered upon 
 our new sphere of existence, for such it might 
 well be called. Imagine twenty-four boys in a 
 building nearly a quarter of a mile from the col- 
 lege, no one to watch them. To tell the story in 
 a tew words, it was never quiet. 
 
 In the afternoon of the first day, I went up and 
 made my start at shorthand, commencing of
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 65. 
 
 course, on the alphabet. It did not take long to 
 learn it, but my fingers were so stiff from hard 
 work, and my brain so inactive and obtuse that I 
 made very slow progress when it came to speed. 
 The master of ceremonies told me it would be 
 necessary for me to learn to write the alphabet at 
 least three times per minute before going any fur- 
 ther. I did not do much the first afternoon, but 
 learn the alphabet; next morning, I went up, made 
 the letters satisfactory and then went home, or to 
 the "den," as we commonly called it, and began 
 working up my speed. I worked tolerably well 
 until along in the afternoon; I thought I was get- 
 ting in pretty fair shape, and imagined I would be 
 a court reporter in a few weeks. There was no 
 question in my own mind but what my success 
 warranted the impression that I was doing fine, 
 and my aspirations broke forth afresh. About 4 
 p. m., with the dignity and confidence in self, 
 presumably possessed by a military officer, I pro- 
 ceeded to the place of trial. The man at the helm 
 of the shorthand department took me into a room 
 by myself, placed me in a chair, took out his watch 
 and said, Go! I went, but owing to the state of ex- 
 citement under which I was laboring, it seemed the 
 wheels of intellect were locked, and those bruised 
 up fingers refused to get in their work. Time was 
 called, minute up, perspiration running down my 
 forehead, and there before me lay the paper with 
 the most outlandish looking scrawls thereon that 
 human eyes ever witnessed, when they had been
 
 66. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 made with the intention of being anything of an 
 intelligent nature. I had worried about one and 
 a half times over the alphabet. He looked dis- 
 appointed, and J. know I felt that way; he sug- 
 gested that perhaps I was a little excited, had bet- 
 ter try again. We took another turn for sixty 
 seconds; this time resulted a little better than the 
 time before, but nothing near three times per min- 
 ute, so there was nothing to do but to return to 
 the den, and once more enter into secret deliber- 
 ation, with a view of becoming more accustomed 
 to the peculiarities of the art. 
 
 I have since learned, many times, that the ex- 
 citement and failure made at that time was but a 
 foretaste of what a stenographer must experience 
 in this very regard. Excitement of the body ma- 
 terially retards quick action of the brain, and for 
 this very reason a great many stenographers, just 
 starting out, make a failure on their initiatory 
 trial for a position. To-do good work, and write 
 rapidly, one must be perfectly composed, regard- 
 less of the surrounding circumstances, and, if there 
 is ever a time when we must have an abundance of 
 self-confidence, self-will and determination, it is 
 when we are on a trial of this kind. 
 
 By the next morning, continued effort had suc- 
 ceeded in getting up a more direct line of connec- 
 tion between brain and fingers, and once more en- 
 tering the private chamber of his royal highness, 
 succeeded in crossing the three times per minute 
 line, and was given some further principles to di-
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 67. 
 
 gest. After having, in a manner, conquered them, 
 I was started in the primer, and given a page to 
 transcribe from long hand to shorthand, using 
 what principles that had been introduced. If 
 memory proves true, this was about the third day 
 after our advent to the place, and new landmarks 
 becoming somewhat familiar, working over a desk 
 became a little more pleasant, and the crooked 
 marks were slowly making an impression on the 
 inner portion of my skull. I prepared the trans- 
 cript, and thought it in pretty fair shape, being 
 very careful in the preparation of same, but upon 
 going up to have it corrected, the corrections be- 
 ing made with red ink, it was hard to tell, after he 
 had finished working with it, which was the original, 
 the red marks or the black, they were about equal 
 in number. This made me feel discouraged, but 
 I tried again, taking even more pains this time 
 than at fiast, but the red ink pen made another 
 desperate slaughter, and I went home disappoint- 
 ed, discouraged and home-sick. I had about 
 come to the conclusion I could never be a short- 
 hand writer anyway, and wished I had never come 
 there. As the close of the day was approaching. 
 I would wonder how Tom was getting along, if 
 mother was sorry I had left home, if the cows 
 were all at home, where the old farm dog was, 
 and all this, until I felt as though farming was not 
 so bad after all. 
 
 It is never all bad without a little good, and 
 Sam was one of those jolly fellows that rarely ever 
 became discouraged, and his presence assisted 
 very materially in arousing my down-trodden feel- 
 ings.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THERE'S SOME SUNSHINE IN THE DARK- 
 EST LIVES. 
 
 Sam was endeavoring to master what was there 
 called the "commercial course," consisting of 
 book-keeping, penmanship, etc., but he did not 
 at all take kindly to study; in fact the only thing 
 he cared much about was sport, and he had fully 
 his share of that. He was very rusty in mathe- 
 matics, miserable penman, and butchered orthog- 
 raphy up in the most cruel and outrageous man- 
 ner; under these circumstances, I thought if he 
 could ever become an efficient book-keeper, I 
 should certainly be able to make at least an apol- 
 ogy for a stenographer. We arranged that we 
 should alternately rise first in the morning and 
 kindle the fire; this plan worked very well for a 
 time. After awhile Sam seemed to be experiencing 
 an enormous amount of difficulty with the mathe- 
 matical part of his studies, so we agreed that when 
 it came my morning to manufacture a .fire, we 
 would both arise at once, and while he did the 
 necessary with the stove, I would solve some of 
 his perplexing mathematical stringencies. Under 
 this regime at the den, we labored for some time.
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIAL. 69. 
 
 After a few days of having my work scraped 
 over with the read ink pen, I began to get onto 
 the racket a little, and was, in the course of about 
 a week, introduced to the type-writer. Strange 
 it may seem, I took much more kindly to this, 
 and experienced very little difficulty, other than 
 missing about half of the words when attempting 
 to spell them correctly; this trouble, however, I 
 was informed that most every one encountered 
 when starting. Then I entered the primary class 
 and commenced to take dictation, and here is 
 where I made -one of the worst blunders with the 
 work. I imagined that I must write just as rapidly 
 as the others, whether I should ever be able to 
 read it or not; but every stenographer who has 
 ever had an extended experience can readily under- 
 stand the error in this. I am inclined to believe 
 that a great many make a mistake in this, when 
 entering a class that has a few weeks the start of 
 them, to endeavor to be up with the best of them, 
 laboring under the impression that time will teach 
 them to read their notes readily, but a sadder 
 mistake could never be made by a stenographic 
 aspirant. The same principle will hold good in 
 typewriting as well as shorthand; be accurate, get 
 what you do get so you can read it, and speed 
 will come of its own accord. I did not invest 
 much time in reading my notes, but studied some 
 on the principles, some on orthography, practiced 
 penmanship a little and commenced to get ac- 
 quainted with the boys, the latter occupying
 
 70. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 much more of my time than it should. While 
 there is no question but what fun is all right in its 
 place, even while one is attending school, yet I 
 am now convinced, and was at the end of three 
 months, that I had invested entirely too much 
 time in sport. 
 
 Sam was a handsome young fellow, dressed much 
 better than the average student at such a school, 
 and of course, the girls there, as a great many of 
 them do everywhere, judge a man principally 
 by his clothes. Near the college building stood a 
 large dormitory, the ground floor being occupied 
 by girls and the upper floor by boys. It was 
 against the rules of the establishment for the boys 
 to visit the lower rooms after six o'clock, but Sam 
 was not to be baffled by a little thing like this. 
 In the corner room there were two girls, one of 
 them what we might term real pretty, the other one 
 only moderate, but that Sam was very favorably im- 
 pressed with one of them was evident from his 
 actions when he passed the room, and from her 
 copious smiles, it was equally as true she believed 
 in reciprocity in this regard. What an elegant 
 opportunity to play a practical joke! I could not 
 let it pass; so getting a fellow to write in a fine 
 hand, something similar to the handwriting of a 
 lady, I fixed up the note and addressed it to Sam, 
 signing it in such a manner that he would know, 
 or think, at least, that it was written by the girl 
 in the corner room, and invited him to call that 
 afternoon, it being Saturday. The note was prompt-
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 71. 
 
 ly mailed, and equally as promptly received by 
 Sam, as he was usually loitering around town Sat- 
 urdays. He bit without a kick, never mistrusted 
 anything, and did not a,wake to the fact that he 
 had been the subject of a joke, until informed 
 direct by the object of the visit, but the girl was 
 not at all displeased with his visit and they be- 
 came acquainted, yet to this day neither of them, 
 to my knowledge, knows who the author of the 
 note was. Sam did not want to leave at six, but 
 did, I presume, with the -understanding that he 
 would call around later and stand and talk through 
 the open window. Whether this arrangement had 
 been previously agreed upon or not, I cannat say, 
 but that he did so stand and talk, I can vouch 
 for. Curiosity led me to act as a spy that eve- 
 ning, and see where he went after leaving the den; 
 this I did, and soon discovered him leaning into 
 the window of the corner room, very busily en- 
 gaged in conversation, with the inmates. His 
 elbows were on the window sill and he was standing 
 in a very comfortable position, entirely too much 
 so for me to resist the inviting temptation. Being 
 acquainted with the fellows in the room directly 
 over him, running to the back entrance I gained 
 the room directly above where he was standing, 
 and then informed the boys of the circumstances 
 that were taking place below, asking for some 
 water. This was furnished without hesitation, 
 the window quietly raised, and I then and there 
 treated Sam to a cold water bath. 'T\vas a little
 
 72. THE STENOGRAPHER. 
 
 mean, but the deed was done; I knew he would be 
 mad, and was aware of the fact that it would be 
 policy forme to reach home before he did, if pos- 
 sible. After obtaining a promise that they would 
 not give it away, took my departure via. the same 
 route I had entered, and made all possible haste 
 for the den. It appeared that Sam had not lin- 
 gered to say many parting words, nor had he 
 stopped by the wayside on his return home to 
 count stars or listen to the warble of birds, for 
 upon reaching the door, the noise from within 
 was entirely too audible to permit doubt as to his' 
 being there. 
 
 To say that he was wrathy, would be placing 
 it in its mildest form; he was pacing up and down 
 the room, gritting his teeth and talking as though 
 he would thrash every fellow on the second floor 
 of the dormitory, to be sure and get the right one. 
 I professed perfect ignorance of the affair, and 
 expressed surprise that any one should be guilty 
 of so rude an act; but all efforts to pacify him 
 proved in vain; nothing short of whipping the fel- 
 low that threw the water, would ever appease his 
 wrath. A change of the subject and shortly the 
 arrival of bed-time, quieted him for the evening, 
 and the next morning he had partially outgrown 
 it, although it would not have been policy for me 
 to have allowed him to discover who the guilty 
 party was. Of course, the boys who inhabited 
 the room from whence the water came, gave 
 nothing away.
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 73. 
 
 On the date of the above occurrence, I formed 
 the acquaintance of one Oscar Jones, which has 
 proved to be a friendship of more than ordinary 
 nature. We seemed congenial from the very first, 
 and from that time on, our inclination toward each 
 other grew, and now the ties of friendship rarely 
 ever bind man and man nearer together than he 
 and I. Our friendship ripened very quickly, and 
 well that it did, for a few days after that, Oscar 
 was taken very sick. He was rooming in one of 
 the dormitories, in a sort of a pig-pen place, such 
 as was furnished the boys, and it was all a well 
 man could do to live in one of them, but when 
 sickness came, it was indeed tough. The house- 
 hold goods consisted of the bare absolute neces- 
 sities, that one might exist a water pail and tin 
 cup constituted all the articles that you could use 
 to dish up anything in, for a sick person. His 
 sickness came near proving serious; he grew worse 
 rapidly and we called for the doctor; yet, to have 
 the doctor come, was but to add embarrassment 
 to his already wounded feelings, for there was 
 nothing to mix medicine in, save the tin cup, or 
 the full grown water pail. We gave him the cup, 
 which, proportionately, was equal to the widow's 
 mite; he mixed some sort of stuff therein, pur- 
 ported to be an antidote for sickness,, leaving 
 orders to give so. many teaspoonfuls, so often. 
 I could think of no better way than that he take 
 up the cup and drink until he thought about a 
 dose had been taken, but poor Oscar had never
 
 74- THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 been accustomed to such treatment, and could 
 not entertain the idea of- so administering the bit- 
 ter drugs. After some preliminaries, we succeeded 
 in getting a spoon and a glass; with these we were 
 quite well fixed for taking care of the sick. His 
 sickness lingered for several days, during which 
 time I remained with him most of the time, ex- 
 cept when I was engaged in stretching my intellect. 
 Soon after his recovery from sickness, he secured 
 a position in a wholesale dry goods house in the 
 city of Gentleburg, and we were forced to part, 
 not forever, however, as after years brought us 
 together again. 
 
 The typewriter never failed to interest me, 
 but to say that shorthand was a pleasant study, I 
 could not conscientiously do so. One trouble 
 being with my shorthand, I did not take pride 
 enough in causing my notes to look neat, and get- 
 ting them accurate, hence they were not so easily 
 read as they might have been, had more pains 
 been taken in placing them on the paper. Another 
 thing that bothered me some, I did not fully mas- 
 ter the principles before commencing to write, 
 and had it not been for the one notable charac- 
 teristic of my life, viz: to hang on as long as there 
 is hope, I fear I should have given it up in de- 
 spair, before having mastered the preface, as it 
 were. 
 
 Soon after Oscar left school, Sam became too 
 high-toned for the room we were in, and left me, 
 having found an associate more congenial, and a
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 75. 
 
 far more pleasant room, thus I was left alone; and 
 this, together with the loss of Oscar, caused me 
 to feel lonesome for a time] but while alone, I 
 could study more, and did so, and had the sur- 
 roundings been anything like a human habitation, 
 life might have been, more pleasant. This lasted 
 but a short time, however, as the term for which 
 the room had been engaged, expired; 'tis needless 
 to say I vacated it. After a little skirmishing 
 around, secured a room with three other fellows, 
 with a private family, a perfect palace, compared 
 with the one I had been stopping in heretofore. 
 The room was a very large one, and four of us 
 could get along quite comfortably; the other three 
 being of an amicable disposition, we studied in 
 earnest. 
 
 Soon, I awoke to the fact that I was a little 
 rusty in other branches besides shorthand, so 
 commenced to study other branches, but all the 
 time giving shorthand the preference. Soon after 
 changing my place of habitation, the currency 
 which I had brought from home became almost 
 extinct, and as per agreement with the tiead of 
 the family, I was to raise the necessary wherewith, 
 so long as I attended school thereafter. I had 
 already arranged with my brother, whose head- 
 quarters were in Butchertown, to loan me the 
 money as he could spare it, so wrote him the cir- 
 cumstances, and received some currency, which 
 placed me on my feet again, financially.
 
 76. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 Six or eight months prior to this, lucre had 
 been quite a serious shooting afray in Hardstudy, 
 in which two or three lives were lost. The short- 
 hand professor had attended the preliminary trial 
 and taken the evidence, which he preserved and 
 had it dictated to the class. They dictated from 
 this testimony about one hour each day. While 
 taking this, I first became interested in shorthand 
 and began to take pride in my notes, for it had a 
 sort of an inspiraation about it, that enthused one 
 to become a court reporter. The trial had been 
 a very lengthy one, and there was several hours 
 dictation, but I had resolved from the first, that 
 if at all possible, I would take the entire trial and 
 transcribe it. After considerable wrestling around 
 for two or three weeks in company with one other 
 fellow, we succeeded in accomplishing the feat, 
 being the only ones out of the class of fifty or 
 sixty. It made about sixty pages of closely writ- 
 ten matter, and it was no small task for an aman- 
 uensis to perform. We were both very proud of 
 our success, and fixed the transcripts up in fine 
 style, and I still retain mine. The other fellow, 
 who we will know by the name of Binns, was one 
 of those peculiar characters we seldom meet. He 
 had been a very adventuresome lad, having run 
 away from home when young, and traveled all 
 over the West and South, stating that at one time, 
 after having been away from home for some time, 
 and but a kid, he became financially stranded. 
 He was going around in a very melancholy mood,
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 77. 
 
 \\ucii lie happened to find a penny, with which he 
 purchased a postal card, and wrote to his mother. 
 Though his action in leaving home so young 
 could but be condemned, yet his act in investing the 
 one cent in the manner he did, is certainly com- 
 mendable. After leaving school, his roving dis- 
 position again seized him, and, after reaching the 
 Pacific coast in a box-car, succeeded in securing 
 a position in Washington Territory, afterwards 
 engaging in the fish and oyster business for him- 
 self, but finally again engaged in shorthand, and 
 was following it the last I heard from him. 
 
 After taking the evidence which had been given 
 in the murder trial, I got along very nicely with 
 shorthand, and in fact most every way, only the 
 outlook for a position was very discouraging, as 
 some of them had already wended their way 
 homeward, completely disgusted, never expecting 
 to secure a place; and besides, my borrowing 
 money was grinding on my conscience to an aggra- 
 vating extent. 
 
 It had reached that point where it seemed like 
 throwing good money after chances on bad, and 
 to say that the future looked dark and gloomy, is 
 placing it mildly. I did not want to leave school 
 until I had something in view, neither did I want 
 to continue to borrow money without any flatter- 
 ing prospects of being able to repay it. As would 
 naturally be supposed, by this time I was becom- 
 ing quite well acquainted with a large number of 
 students, and was in a position to have considera-
 
 7$. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 ble sport; was getting to be a fair foot-ball player, 
 and learning to hold my own with things in gen- 
 eral, but oh, that money business! something had 
 to be done. 
 
 There were two large hotels in town, both of 
 which did a good business. One of these, about 
 three quarters of a mile from the school building, 
 and in the central part of town, was in the habit 
 of keeping one of the students from the college, 
 as a general roustabout, for his board and room. 
 One of the fellows who had been there, was going 
 to leave, and he told me about it being a good 
 place for a fellow whose currency was short. The 
 very idea of my working for board while attend- 
 ing school! I could not at first consider it at all. 
 I had been boarding at the college all the time, 
 with ten of us at the table, five of each sex, and 
 meal time was generally looked forward to with a 
 view of having a sort of a young picnic; and then, 
 the hotel was a great place for the boys to lounge 
 around, and the thought of my meeting them 
 there, was more than my pride would stand, so I 
 did not take it. Another fellow got in there, but 
 he only remained a week or two, during which 
 time the prospects of my getting into anything 
 that would enable me to earn any money by the 
 use of my accomplishment, was growing darker 
 and darker, daily. Driven, as it were, by a 
 troubled conscience, more than absolute necessity, 
 I went to the hotel. I didn't look forward with 
 very much of a dread as to what the work would
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 79. 
 
 be there, but the thought of the students passing 
 the hotel and see me at work, if they should, was 
 anything but a pleasant thought. While it was no 
 disgrace, nevertheless, I could not help but look 
 upon it as such. The room they furnished me 
 was comfortable, but not very large, and not so 
 pleasantly located as it might have been, but as 
 there are sometimes exceptions to rules, such it 
 was in this case, for the people were very nice to 
 me, and treated me as one of the family. I could 
 not have asked for kinder treatment under the 
 circumstances. My main duty was to rise about 
 four o'clock in the morning and start two or three 
 fires, thus allowing me to get my work done and 
 everything ready before any of the students would 
 be on the street, and the remainder of the time I 
 would invest in my room. 
 
 There is not a more disagreeable feeling than 
 to have one's pride crushed and being continu- 
 ally trampled under foot, and while I was not 
 often seen by any of the fellows from the college, 
 around the hotel, there would be times when cir- 
 cumstances would be such as to have me carrying 
 a pail of coal as they passed. I could feel the 
 blood rush to my face and the perspiration start 
 afresh; then I would retire to my humble habita- 
 tion, smooth out my troubled conscience a little, 
 and go to school. While this may not seem very 
 hard to some, it was more than I trust I shall 
 ever have to do again. Not so much for the 
 position as the circumstance. Had I been in a
 
 8o. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 strange town, where I was a total stranger, it 
 would not have hurt me in the least, but there is 
 a peculiarity about everyone, and that was one of 
 my peculiar characteristics. During this time I 
 was learning rapidly, in more ways than one, and 
 I improved every spare moment, hence was, as I 
 thought, getting in. pretty good shape for a posi- 
 tion. 
 
 While I was at the hotel only about six weeks, 
 I gained some very healthy and lasting experience, 
 which I have not, as yet, forgotten. My brother 
 in Butchertown finally advised me to come down 
 there and try my luck, and after considering the 
 matter for a time, and making the necessary ar- 
 rangements, I decided to go. 
 
 There are few times in life more touching than 
 leaving school, especially when a number of warm 
 friends are to be left; however, it is something 
 that one encounters in life. After having been 
 accustomed to mingle with them daily, then to 
 grasp their hands in farewell, when, beyond all 
 probabilities, it is for the last time, it is no joke, 
 by any means. But, of course such partings de 
 pend largely upon the depth of friendship with a 
 person, and, with me it meant a great deal. How- 
 ever, circumstances were such it seemed wisdom 
 to go, so after the usual hand-shaking on one fine 
 May morning, I turned my back upon the old 
 school ground and the town of Hardstudy, for- 
 ever.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 LEAVE SCHOOL, STRIKE BUTCHERTOWN, TROUBLE 
 ONLY NOW BEGINS, A REGULAR TENDERFOOT. 
 
 Life, no doubt, should be a scene of happiness; 
 but, largely from our own fault, it is true, all 
 know that it abounds in many trying scenes. It 
 is somewhat pitiful to see the young and the gay 
 brought suddenly face to face with the stern realitfes 
 of life, and care and trouble and sorrow take up 
 their thenceforth unceasing abode with them; and 
 yet the only thing to do is to take up the burdens 
 of life with a brave heart. A promment writer 
 expressed my sentiments when he said: "As life 
 advances, does it not often seem as a vessel going to 
 pieces; as if we were on the broken fragments of 
 a ship, or in a solitary skiff, on the waste of wa- 
 ters? Can we say there was ever a truer saying 
 uttered, than 'Human life is a subject which we 
 all delight to contemplate? It is, alas! to be 
 feared that few of us sum the matter up aright.' 
 We are constantly wishing every period of life at 
 an end. The minor longs to be of age; then to 
 be a man of business; then to make up an estate; 
 then to arrive at honor; then to retire; and death 
 soon closes the scene-shifting.
 
 52. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 "Life has been compared to many things; often- 
 est, perhaps, to a river, down which we voyage in 
 a boat. At first, we glide down the narrow chan- 
 nel, through the playful murmurings of the little 
 brook, and the winding of grassy borders. The 
 trees hang their blossoms over our young heads, 
 the flowers on the brink seem to offer themselves 
 to our young hands; we are happy in hope, and 
 we grasp eagerly at the beauties around us; but 
 the stream hurries on, and still our hands are 
 empty. Our course in youth and manhood is 
 along a wider and deeper flood, amid objects 
 more striking and magnificent. We are animated 
 at the moving pictures of enjoyment and industry 
 passing around us; we are excifed at some short- 
 lived disappointment. The stream hurries us on, 
 and our joys and our griefs are alike left behind 
 us. We rrmy be shipwrecked, we cannot be de- 
 layed; whether rough or smooth, the river hastens 
 to its home. At length, the roar of the ocean is 
 in our ears, the tossing of the waves beneath our. 
 feet, the land lessens from our eyes, the floods are 
 lifted around us, and of our further voyage no 
 mortal knows. The wind is always off shore, and 
 no boat ever returns." 
 
 Were I to sum up the course of life in a few 
 words, I would say, "The course of life is a rug- 
 ged diagonal between duty and desire. " It is some- 
 what pathetic, when we consider how completely 
 the youthful dreams of life are often disappointed. 
 It has been said, "A true man will lose on
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIAL. 83. 
 
 time in getting down to earnest work in life," but 
 experience taught me, if a man do this, to be a true 
 man, he can never be a stenographer and a true man; 
 for, though he may be ever so willing, if he can't 
 get a "job," he can't get down to earnest business 
 without losing some time. It is true, we are not 
 to seek for some easy passage through life, for we 
 are liable to find that our paths will lie amid rocks 
 and crags, and not on lawns or among lilies; 
 over precipitous mountains, not along the pleas- 
 ant banks of winding rivers. We have got to 
 take hold of the tough knots of life and try to 
 untie them. We would say, let every man be 
 occupied, and occupied" in the highest employ- 
 ment of which his nature is capable. There is 
 one consolation in this action, that is, there will 
 always remain to such an one the inner conscien- 
 tiousness that he has done his best. 
 
 As the train pulled out of Hardstudy, I gave 
 one long look at the little town in the beautiful 
 valley, turned my face forward, and I was rush- 
 ing forth to meet the stern realities of life, as igno- 
 rant of what the future held in store for me, as it 
 was possible for one to be, and yet as full of am- 
 bition and anticipation as my limited imaginations 
 would permit. I did not anticipate all smooth 
 sailing, neither did I anticipate it would be quite 
 so rugged as it had been. I did not then so fully 
 appreciate the fact as I do now, that there is a 
 vast difference between a dollar earned and a dol- 
 lar saved. I had figured largely on the income
 
 84. THE STENOGRAPHER- 
 
 tax, out gave little thought to the output. Who 
 can think over his past life without wishing he 
 might have one more trial, and that to start with 
 the experience we now have? Oh, what a glori- 
 ous success we would make of it, to be sure! But as 
 it is, we can only profit by the experience of others. 
 While my brother Harry had his business head- 
 quarters at Butchertown, he resided at Deadville, 
 a little suburban town about ten miles away, he 
 being on the road a great deal of the time; and, 
 as accidents will happen, such we might consider 
 it in this case, for after a ride of an hour or so, I 
 came to a junction, where it was necessary to 
 change cars, and who should be on the train I 
 was to take for Deadville, but Harry! It had 
 been several months since I had seen any of the 
 folks, and under the circumstances which sur- 
 rounded my life just at this time, it is needless to 
 say I was "tickled to death" to see him. Seemed 
 I never saw him look so good before, and know- 
 ing what he had already done for me, I naturally 
 felt a little under obligations to him. 
 
 He took in my situation at a glance, and no 
 doubt in sympathy with me, for he did everything 
 he could to encourage me, and before night I 
 thought half the battle of life was victoriously 
 fought. There are times in life when kind words 
 are almost as valuable as gold, and are something 
 all can give if they will. Along in the afternoon 
 we reached Deadville, and, to say the least, the 
 name is very expressive. The buildings, some of
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 85. 
 
 them at least, gave unmistakable evidence of hav- 
 ing been built many long years ago, and some of 
 the inhabitants bore evidence of having lived in the 
 days when it was fashionable for the men to wear 
 long hair, and had forgotten to change their cus- 
 tom when the rest of the civilized world did; but, 
 regardless of the dilapidated, long-haired pedes- 
 trians that infested the place, there were some very 
 nice residences. 
 
 The backbone of the town was a large agricul- 
 tural college, founded by some benevolent old 
 fellow when he joined the silent majority. At the 
 time we arrived there, I believe there were about 
 five hundred students in attendance, and to say 
 they were a mixed up lot of knowledge seekers, 
 is placing it in a very mild form. It was so 
 arranged, that any one with good intentions could 
 enter the school, even if he was completely finan- 
 cially stranded, and work half of the time and at- 
 tend school the other half. Taking a retrospect- 
 ive view of the situation, I sized it up about this 
 way: The school was composed of the children of 
 wealthy people, who had become unmanageable in 
 the city and sent them there to get them out of the 
 way; this, however, composed a very small portion 
 of the school. Then there were a few that were real 
 anxious to gain an education, and who were not 
 able to obtain it in other colleges, but the larger 
 portion was made up of those who had made a 
 stab at life, and it had culminated in failure be- 
 fore they were more than twenty-five, and deciding 
 
 IT
 
 86. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 to take a moral, as well as a financial turn in life, 
 they had taken up a course in school, with a view 
 of making preachers or lawyers out of themselves. 
 While the farm in connection with the college 
 might have been large enough, everything went to 
 show that it was either not profitably cultivated, 
 or else the soil in* and around Deadville was of 
 the non-productive sort; as Wm. Nye puts it, 
 "Had to engage stone masons to plant their 
 corn." for they could not commence to raise 
 enouge to feed the hungry multitude, let alone 
 clothe them, hence they depended largely on 
 donations from the dying rich in the East, and 
 their expectations from this source were very 
 often- gratified; but sometimes it would seem their 
 Eastern friends were not dying with the regularity 
 necessary to keep them in good shape. One of 
 the most peculiar features of the students was 
 their dress. Some large clothing house in the 
 East would have a large stock of clothing that had 
 gone out of date, misfits, etc., and after carrying 
 them in stock until tired of them, they would 
 donate them to the college, and from this dona- 
 tion the boys were clothed. It was, first there first 
 served, hence the best pushers would get to the 
 pile first, and pick out their suit, which would be 
 of a respectable looking nature, but it was noth- 
 ing strange to see some poor, meek looking chap 
 standing around, a few days after the distribution, 
 stove into a pair of pants six inches too short for 
 him, and a coat made after the Prince Albert
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 87. 
 
 fashion, at least five years too old for him. One 
 can better imagine than can pen describe, what 
 sort of a spectacle two or three hundred boys 
 dressed in this manner would present. The girls 
 seemed to fare better in regard to the dress busi- 
 ness, as they usually looked much more respectable; 
 whether they were better served in the dress line, 
 or whether they were more particular about their 
 toilet, I am not prepared to say. 
 
 The course of study took seven years, and 
 should have been quite thorough, but it would 
 always seem sad to me to see them entering upon 
 a seven year course of such a life as that when 
 they were anywhere from twenty-five to forty 
 years old; yet, with a great many of them, it 
 seemed about the only avenue in life that was left 
 for them to tread. There is no doubt but that if 
 we could learn the secret life of the students in 
 such a school as that, we would learn of some 
 very sad disappointments and crushed hopes. 
 With some of them, the countenance and looks 
 gave unmistakable evidence of a troubled mind 
 and a disappointed life. 
 
 The next morning, in company with Harry, I 
 visited Butchertown, which was the first city ex- 
 perience that had ever crossed my path. The place 
 then numbered about two hundred thousand peo- 
 ple, and was to me a lively town. The first sight of 
 it disgusted me, and it seemed utterly impossible 
 that I could ever look upon such a place with any
 
 88. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 thought of calling it my home; in after years I 
 looked back upon that thought and wondered, 
 Could it be possible? 
 
 It was a very cloudy day, raining a little, and 
 smoke thick and heavy, and everything so differ- 
 ent from the surroundings at Hardstudy, my heart 
 grew light and the thought rushed through my 
 mind, This or farming. While I can now think of 
 this and smile, it was to me then a very serious 
 matter, for it did not seem that I could ever live 
 there for love or money. 
 
 After taking in the town for an hour or two, we 
 called upon a gentleman that had formerly been 
 a great friend of the family, but was now engaged 
 in business in the city. Harry informed him dur- 
 ing the conversation which followed, that I was 
 "looking for a job," and, while he was very cour- 
 teous and expressed a willingness to do all he 
 could for me, he was not in a position to do any- 
 thing just then, as business was getting dull. He 
 was trafficing in real estate, and real estate had 
 taken a tumble. After both a pleasant and dis- 
 appointed visit with him, and one other old time 
 friend or two, we returned to Deadville and invest- 
 ed the remainder of the day very pleasantly. 
 
 Business called Harry out of town, and there 
 was nothing for me to do but lay around or go 
 back to the city and rustle for a place to earn 
 bread. Mustering up all the courage I could 
 command, I took the morning train for the city, 
 and while I did not anticipate that the business
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 89. 
 
 men would run out into the streets and pull me in, 
 in their bloodthirsty desire to secure a ''compe- 
 tent stenographer" (which the letter in my pocket 
 said I was), I did expect that some of the mighty 
 financiers of that burg would give me a job. Not 
 knowing what better to do, I went to the same 
 place Harry and I had been the day before, to 
 let them know I was still in the field of business, 
 but, strange to say, they did not have a very long 
 list of fellows looking for a man of my calibre. 
 The sun coming out, and the smoke clearing away 
 somewhat, I resolved to tackle every man or boy 
 that I met, for something to do, until I got a 
 place; that is, where I found them in an office. 
 Some of the large business buildings I would can- 
 vass from cellar to garret, but in every place I 
 met about the same response, if a response at all. 
 Some places, where the offices would be peculiar- 
 ly arranged, and being ignorant about everything, 
 I remember on one occasion particularly, I went 
 in and tackled the boss for a place, and got a neg- 
 ative reply, but as I was making a thorough can- 
 vass of the building, walked out, and walked into 
 the next door and tackled the man sitting there, 
 when I discovered the fact that the office had two 
 doors, and he was the same man that had just 
 told 'me no. I discovered the mistake about the 
 time the salutation was completed, and whether 
 by an act of providence or from my frightened 
 looks, I am not prepared to say, but sufficeth to 
 say, instead of kicking me out, as most men would
 
 90. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 have done under the circumstances, he only 
 smiled, spoke pleasantly, as I receded through 
 the door. 
 
 Another fellow told me he had placed an ad in 
 the paper for a stenographer, and the next morn- 
 ing the hall, clear to the head of the elevator, was 
 crowded full of applicants; it appeared, so he 
 said, the town was full of them. This was indeed a 
 flattering outlook for one in my position, and, after 
 trying time and time again, I finally concluded he 
 was about right. It really seemed to me there 
 must have been an alarming influx of steno's from 
 some source, or business was dreadfully dull. 
 
 Though I met scarcely nothing but disappoint- 
 ment all day, I was not as much discouraged that 
 night as I was when I reached the city in the 
 morning, for I had been partially initiated to city 
 life, and the thought that there was a possibility 
 of my living there, flitted across my mind. 
 
 When I reached Deadville that night, I was so 
 worn out I could hardly walk; tramping and trem- 
 bling all day, had proven about all I was prepared 
 for; however, the plan of operation, on reaching 
 the city next time, had been previously mapped 
 out. 
 
 Persistent effort works wonders at times, and 
 finally clews to openings began to show up; most 
 of them, when traced down, proved to be without 
 foundation, but when a fellow is going to a certain 
 place to see about something he has heard of, he 
 can get a business move-up, but when he is just
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 91. 
 
 meandering along, not knowing where he is going, 
 everything becomes so monotonous, he moves as 
 though he was going to his own funeral. Late in 
 the afternoon, I learned of a stenogrpher having 
 committed suicide in the office, and was informed 
 that beyond a doubt there would be a vacancy 
 there; so, learning the location of the place, re- 
 solved to go over there at once and get in my ap- 
 plication before it was too late. After starting, 
 the thought of going before the other fellow was 
 buried, almost haunted me, but the little experience 
 already had, tended to develop my courage into 
 what might properly come under the term "gall;" 
 so, proceeding forward, reached the office while the 
 boss was at the funeral. Things did not look very 
 encouraging around there, and I pondered in my 
 mind whether the poor fellow had become dis- 
 heartened with the surroundings, or whether he 
 could not read his notes, but considered more 
 favorably the latter, for I have since learned that 
 such difficulties will cause a fellow to think seri- 
 ously of so doing. The people in the office, no 
 doubt, thought I was a little too premature, and 
 gave me no encouragement whatever; in other 
 words, discouraged all hopes of anything like a 
 position. This discouraged me more than any- 
 thing yet; what was the use; a fellow could not get 
 around in time; if only a few more of them would 
 commit suicide or die, and give some one else a 
 Qhance; but it appeared they would not do it.
 
 92. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 Business was apparently looming up a little in 
 my line, that is, I was getting onto more clues 
 every day, and it now became a case of chase 
 down rumors, and while in nearly every instance 
 I met nothing but sheer disappointment, there was 
 that desperation in ambition to secure a place, 
 that every spark of information regarding a va- 
 cancy was fanned into a flame, by my heated 
 imagination and overdrawn anticipations. Some 
 places they made good promises, probaly would 
 6e an opening after a time, and one day I struck a 
 fellow who was sure of a place for me, but wanted 
 five dollars to put me on. This was altogether 
 out of the question, for, had it been a house and 
 lot for five dollars, I could not have purchased it 
 unless the means could have been borrowed. 
 Finally he took my note, with the understanding 
 it was to be held out of the first month's salary. 
 This time I thought the matter was sealed and 
 sure, the place being about a mile and a half from 
 where I gathered the information. Money was 
 too precious for me to waste it on car fare, and 
 all my navigation was done strictly after the pedes- 
 trian order. The sun was fearfully hot, but it 
 was like a boy going fishing, the trip down there 
 did not bother at all, but oh, the trip coming 
 back! They were not ready for a man yet, prob- 
 ably would be after awhile, could not tell how 
 long. The same old racket. What was the use; 
 the town full of fellows just like myself, looking
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 93. 
 
 for work, and besides, quite a number of ladies, 
 and only one chance in a hundred should there 
 be a vacancy. 
 
 My advice to any one starting out, would be, 
 to hang on; the prospect can never be darker than 
 was mine, but persistent effort sometimes wins, 
 even when fate seems to be against us. Two 
 weeks had been invested in trying for a place. 
 All this time railroad fare to Deadville had been 
 drawing terribly on my limited exchequer, and 
 something must be done. I had called upon 
 Harry so long for money, it seemed like it was 
 getting to be an old story, and the line must be 
 drawn. It now came a time when some definite 
 action must be taken to relieve my distressed 
 financial condition, whether in the line of short- 
 hand or not. I had been offered a place in a retail 
 dry goods store in Hardstudy, but at such a small 
 salary it would but little ^more than keep up ex- 
 penses; yet, considering the way circumstances 
 had shaped themselves, I wished the opportunity 
 had been taken.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 FROM BAD TO WORSE FINALLY DRIVEN TO THE 
 WALL AND TRY THE BOOK BUSINESS. 
 
 After carefully scrutinizing the papers for a few 
 days, I saw an ad, which read very flattering: 
 "Young men wanted, to do collecting, office 
 work," etc. There was a snap, which would be a 
 good way to earn a little money and get on my 
 feet while looking for a place as a stenographer. 
 I went down to see the man, walked into his 
 office, told my business, and was ushered into his 
 private sanctum sanctorum. He was an oily 
 tongued rascal, wore a silk hat, and if I ever meet 
 him again, and recognize him, one of us will prob- 
 ably get hurt; but perhaps we shall never meet, 
 (at least I hope not.) 
 
 He put up a regular land office talk, and before 
 he was. through, I imagined I could hear the 
 shekels jingling down into my jeans; nothing to 
 do but a little collecting, office work, and what- 
 ever there was to do; to start at ten dollars a 
 week, with the understanding of an increase in 
 salary shortly. This was Saturday, Monday morn- 
 ing I was to go to work.
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 95. 
 
 Now that a position had been secured, I little 
 questioned but what the worst was over, but any- 
 one with any experience in life might have known 
 he was a bare-faced liar, and me a sucker. The 
 remainder of the day was invested in pleasure; 
 great big fat position waiting for me, I spent a 
 quarter foolishly on the strength of it, in visiting 
 a panorama of Gettysburg, which was a fraud. 
 
 I was in good spirits when reaching home, but 
 was somewhat surprised at the doubtful look on 
 Harry's face when I told him of my excellent luck 
 in securing employment. He cross-questioned 
 me pretty sharply as to what the work was, but I 
 gave him the same song Mr. Oilytongue had given 
 me, so he finally agreed to go down to the city 
 with me Monday morning, help me to secure a 
 boarding place, and get me started. Talk about 
 blissful anticipations, but I basked in them, for 
 the next day at least, to perfection. Being under 
 the impression the position was a very important 
 one, and one that demanded early and prompt 
 attention, in order to be on hand promptly at 
 seven, we took the four o'clock train that morn- 
 ing. While Harry was very good to me all the 
 way through, I can not help thinking he made a 
 very poor selection when he secured my boarding 
 house, not that it was unclean, but with such a 
 heartless people, and a people that lived so much 
 better and higher than my pocket-book would ad- 
 mit of my living. He gave me some more money,
 
 96. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 some advice about keeping a sharp look-out and 
 not get worked, etc., and then left, as business 
 called him hence. 
 
 On reaching the habitation of his royal high- 
 ness, I discovered that a number of other fellows 
 had secured a snap (?) also, and were to commence 
 work that morning. There was quite a string of 
 us in the front office waiting our turn; one by one 
 they went through the door, from whence, to all 
 appearances, they never returned, each man seem- 
 ing to take about ten or fifteen minutes, and then, 
 as I afterwards learned, they were letting them 
 out the back door. It all looked a little suspi- 
 cious, but that great big, juicy ten dollars a week 
 covered all seeming defects to me, and I waited 
 patiently my turn, which turned up about eight 
 o'clock. The man with the silk hat on, that had 
 engaged my valuable services, sat at the desk, 
 and upon being ushered into his presence and 
 the door closed behind me, he politely informed 
 me what my first duties would be. All I would 
 have to do would be to just go out and sell a 
 few books, showing me the prospectus I was to 
 carry, explaining how easy it would be; tell the 
 people they only have to pay so much per week; 
 and, despite the fact that I was not only disap- 
 pointed but utterly disgusted when I learned what 
 my duty was to be, before he got through talking, 
 I imagined it was not so bad after all, and be- 
 lieved I could make a success of it. He gave ex- 
 plicit instructions that I should not carry the book
 
 HIS I.IKE AND TRIALS. 97. 
 
 where it would be visible, but must carry it under 
 my coat until I could secure a sack of some kind 
 to conceal it in. Of course he took some money 
 as a deposit for the prospectus, and after thorough- 
 ly dressing me down, said I had better go to my 
 room and study up all that day, and come up the 
 next morning, or, if I so desired, go out and sell 
 some books, and then come up and report. I at-, 
 temp'ted to adopt the latter "clause." He talked 
 to me until I was under the impression it was, 
 without question, the most wonderful publication 
 that had ever been promulgated, and had no doubt 
 but what a mere presentation of the wonderful 
 work meant a sale. He was careful to inform me 
 that, to make a success, I must be interested in 
 the book myself, and that I must have faith in its 
 value; but the bloody prevaricator, if that had 
 been any indication, every man, woman and child 
 I passed, would have purchased one, for he had 
 puffed it up until I thought it really had no equal. 
 Imagine me, when upon reaching the street, in 
 compliance with instructions, I placed the valua- 
 ble volume under my coat, so people could not 
 see it. The very idea of a large book like that, 
 tucked up under the little summer coat, caused 
 me to look like a snake after having swallowed a 
 toad; but, believing that to be one of the secrets 
 of success in the business, the poor book was 
 scrunched up under that coat just as far as possi-
 
 9^. TI1F. STENOGRAPHER 
 
 ble. I imagined every fellow I met, laughed at 
 me, and no doubt but what most of them that saw 
 my deformed looking condition, did. 
 
 Before going to the room, however, I went to 
 the post-office, and upon inquiry, received a let- 
 ter in answer to one of my applications for a place 
 as steno. Without losing any time, I answered 
 the call in person, found a vacancy; said he was 
 much pleased with the neatness of my application, 
 and that their head man was off for a few menths 
 and they would give me a trial. The fellow was 
 just as pleasant as any one could ask, for a man 
 in his position, but said he would like to try me 
 before engaging me, as I was inexperienced. To 
 this day I am unable to account for the miserable 
 failure made, for he dictated slow, and while I 
 had nothing but an old pen to write with, I should 
 have gotten it. There was no question but what 
 I was excited, and he knew it. I could not read 
 the letter at all, and he, appreciating my embar- 
 rassment, said for me to go and study up that 
 day, fix up for writing, and come down the next 
 morning. The rest of the day was invested in 
 rubbing up on shorthand, but I could not sleep 
 good at all that night. Next morning, on reach- 
 ing the place, the old fellow was as jovial as ever, 
 but said, after considering the matter, he did not 
 believe I would be able to hold the place, as it 
 was a very difficult one, and it would hardly be 
 possible for an inexperienced man to do the work; 
 gave me considerable encouragement, saying that
 
 DALLAS, TfJUJS 
 
 HIS T.TFK AND TRIALS. 99. 
 
 I would be all right with a little more study, and to 
 take some place not quite so hard as that one, to 
 start with. 
 
 Notwithstanding the encouraging words the old 
 fellow gave me, when leaving the place, I had the 
 blues, and besides, it commenced to rain. There 
 was nothing now but that book, on which to earn 
 bread. I returned to the room, and studied until 
 noon. By this time the rain had almost ceased, 
 and about one o'clock in the afternoon I went out 
 to "take some orders." Oh, that some one could 
 have kicked me before I got out of the yard, taken 
 the book away from me and saved me the bitter 
 experience that followed. Such a dreary after- 
 noon, and such a dismal task! I did not have 
 sense enough to go out among the class of people 
 that would entertain even a book agent with re- 
 spect, but struck among the people who had ser- 
 vants to answer the ring of the door bell. House 
 after house was visited, and I did not even get a 
 chance to tell of my "wonderful treasure;" the door 
 was either slammed in my face, or I was met with, 
 "My mistress told me not to allow any more book 
 agents about the place!" flung into my face as 
 spiteful as could be. That kind of talk to a ten- 
 derfoot like I was, stuck too deep to be explained 
 on paper. All the gall and courage formerly 
 brought to my assistance, proved of no avail tipon 
 these occasions, but, true to the task, I kept peg- 
 ging away nearly all the afternoon, and while it 
 may seem strange, it is, nevertheless true, the
 
 TOO. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 only person that I could get to even listen to my 
 wonderful story, was a^joor, old, crippled-up shoe- 
 maker, that could not have bought a book had he 
 wanted to, and I doubt if he could have read it, 
 had some one made him a present of it. I had 
 tried so long to get a chance to tell my tale, then 
 when I found a fellow that could not get away, 
 and seemed to listen, even a little unwillingly, I 
 talked an arm nearly off him. The man in the 
 silk hat had told me not to take "no" for an 
 answer, and while the poor old fellow kept per- 
 sistently pleading and assuring me he could not 
 possibly afford to buy, I kept hanging on, until, 
 through actual shame I sneaked out. 
 
 Never in my existence thus far on earth, have I 
 looked upon the gloomy side of life in such a 
 manner; in other words, human existence never 
 < portrayed to me a darker picture, from my own 
 stand-point, than did it that evening. I had in- 
 herited a disposition that hated the word failure, 
 but it now came to nie with all. its horror, for 
 failure had been the result of my efforts, and a dis- 
 mal failure at that. Only one man to listen, and 
 he a crippled shoemaker; it looked to me like a 
 pretty tough record, and does yet. It appeared 
 the elements were in a mood somewhat similar to 
 myself, for they began to pour fourth abundantly, 
 and I and the book meandered back to .the room 
 more like a funeral procession than anything else. 
 There I was, completely disgusted with life, 
 home-sick, life-sick, out of money, among strangers
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. IOI. 
 
 and it raining like fury. AJ1 thought of investing 
 another night there, weighed down upon me like 
 a monster, and there was a feeling about my heart 
 that can not be explained. Some people may 
 think there is nothing in. homesickness, but I pre- 
 fer to have the measles any time, in preference to 
 a real bad case of home-sickness. 
 
 There was one outlet. I had money enough to 
 take me to Deadville, but the thought of telling 
 Harry of my brilliant exploits as a business man and 
 representative of the monstrous book publishing 
 establishment of the East, weighed not a little 
 upon my mind. It was growing almost dark; the 
 rain was to me dreadfully dismal; the train would 
 leave for Deadville in a few minutes; the tempta- 
 tion was too great; I would chance meeting Harry, 
 tell him the truth and take the consequences, it 
 could be no worse than the book business. I 
 gave the folks of the house to understand that the 
 press of business called me out of the city in 
 haste, rushed to the depot, and was soon moving 
 for Deadville. I must admit I felt rather sneak- 
 ing, as the train moved along and I pondered 
 over the brilliant career of the past fewdays. 
 But the grand satisfaction of again reaching Har- 
 ry's, it cannot be explained. After putting up a 
 pitiful talk that my best efforts had been exhaust- 
 ed, and proven futile, together with my dilapi- 
 dated looks, won their sympathy and they did 
 not even reprimand me.
 
 102. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 Supper over, matters commenced to loom up a 
 little, and it once more began to dawn upon my 
 somewhat bewildered mind that possibly life would 
 be worth living sometime in the dim unborn future, 
 and that it was best to not yet give up in despair. 
 
 A thorough canvass of the matter with Harry, 
 brought us to the conclusion that my build was 
 not particularly adapted to the life of one endeav- 
 oring to raise the standard of humanity by intro- 
 ducing world-startling productions of the pen, 
 under the title of a book agent, and that my future 
 success in life depended largely upon my drop- 
 ping onto some other avocation for a means of 
 earning bread. 
 
 Next morning, I returned to the city, for the 
 purpose of continuing my search for a position as 
 a rapid pen pusher and marvelous typewriter oper- 
 ator. The precipitation which grand old nature 
 had been so extensively engaged in, the evening 
 before, had ceased, but it was yet cloudy and 
 dreary. The very sight of books made me turn 
 sick at heart, and almost become disgusted with 
 literature in every state and form. 
 
 About noon, an extraordinary and encouraging 
 clue WAS discovered, which resulted in my secur- 
 ing a place as clerk, roustabout and stenographer 
 combined, and about one p. m. I rolled up 
 my sleeves. The long thought of and much 
 anticipated fortune was certainly now within my 
 grasp, or, at least, so I now imagined. There 
 seems to have been no special agreement reached,
 
 HIS LTFK AND TRIALS. 103. 
 
 as to the amount of compensation I was to receive 
 for my valuable (?) services, but, full of ambition 
 and self-confidence, the pen commenced to wield 
 at my command. 
 
 It was a wholesale commission house, and 
 business rushing and the place would have been 
 difficult for an experienced man, hence it is easy 
 to imagine the chance I stood. The head of the 
 concern was a regular old crank, if there ever was 
 one; he expected a fellow to wheel boxes, keep 
 books, act as cashier, make out bills, and be a 
 stenographer and typewriter all at once. liy a 
 desperate effort on my part, a fairly respectable 
 showing was made that afternoon, but he did not 
 have a typewriter; the letters, what few were 
 written, had to be placed on paper by hand and 
 pen. My penmanship did not abound in flour- 
 ishes, nor,, we might add, in legibility; , this, 
 together with the hurry and excitement that sur- 
 rounded me, caused the writing to look rather bad 
 beyond a doubt. 
 
 Regardless of all this, my spirits that evening 
 were far above par, and the thought of failure 
 never once entered my brain. Next morning, I 
 was on hand for duty early, and, after rustling 
 around until nearly ten o'clock, the old man got 
 hot, and fired me outright, and that without a very 
 long or eloquent valedictory speech, either. His 
 speech was very short, and might well be said to 
 abound with needless adjectives. The only thing 
 I don't now understand, is, why he did not bring
 
 104- THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 his boots into play to impress upon my mind that 
 the valuable services rendered by me were not at 
 all satisfactory, and were no longer needed. With 
 a sort of a horse thief look on me, I meekly in- 
 quired if he was not going to give me something 
 for what I had done. In answer to this, he hand- 
 ed me a dollar, with, "It's more than you have 
 earned." 
 
 There I was again! Such a recommendation 
 to start out with to look for another job. I can- 
 not say it was with any very flattering prospects 
 before me that I meandered down the crowded 
 street, of that apparently busy place, but, dis- 
 couraging as it may appear, I was not so utterly 
 disgusted as when retiring from actual service in 
 the book venture. 
 
 Business in my line was undoubtedly getting 
 better, for it was so I could get onto jobs, even 
 though they proved too much for me. I rustled 
 the remainder of that day with no avail. The 
 time for which my board had been paid, had ex- 
 pired, the money Harry had given me was all 
 gone, but a very small amount. There was noth- 
 ing to do but go back to Deadville, which I did, 
 told my tale of woe, and again won their sym- 
 pathy. 
 
 As a last resort, I decided to rent a typewriter 
 and go into business for myself. Once more 
 Harry made me a loan, and by a stream of lucky 
 moves, I found a place where a fellow was willing 
 to give me office room with him, and do his work,
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 105. 
 
 thus giving me a good place to make my head- 
 quarters. Eight dollars was what they charged 
 per month for the rent of the machine. The man 
 where I was to have my headquarters was very 
 nice and did all he could for me. While it may 
 seem strange, it is nevertheless true, after working 
 a day or two I became interested in soliciting 
 business, got out a lot of slips showing samples of 
 my work, also prices, and commenced to distribute 
 them around in various offices, putting up a good 
 talk wherever possible, and in a day or two pros- 
 pects looked much brighter. Whether by chance 
 or an act of providence, I am unable to say, 
 a certain law firm needed some work done in my 
 line, and one of the fellows took a fancy to me, 
 presumably more through pity than otherwise, but 
 he was good and treated me white. He came over 
 and asked me if I could bring my typewriter and 
 do some work for them that afternoon. Of course 
 I went; he read to me, and at night I had earned 
 two dollars. I was the happiest man in town; 
 there was no question in my own mind now but 
 what the foundation for a successful future was 
 laid. Out of the money Harry had "furnished 
 when starting up this new deal, I had purchased a 
 mileage book, which furnished means of transpor- 
 tation, and in case of emergency, I could go with- 
 out dinner. I did not get the money that night, 
 but next day about noon I went around to see them. 
 At that time, I had just ten great big juicy cents 
 in my pocket, and besides, was actually hungry,
 
 106. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 having been on my feet all the fore part of the 
 day. After getting the two dollars, the first pass 
 was to eat. 
 
 During my solicitations, I had struck quite a 
 large job of work over across the river, and a few 
 days afterwards, in going over to see about it, 
 struck a permanent position, which was welcomed 
 with open arms.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 STRIKES A PERMANENT POSITION, AND LIFE 
 MOVES IN SMOOTHER CHANNELS. 
 
 Although Butchertown had experienced quite a 
 boom in real estate, I struck the town at the wrong 
 end of the boom; real estate men were pushing 
 hard to make both ends meet, and some of them 
 were failing even in this. Some men in good 
 localities were still hanging on, making a little 
 money dealing in suburban property; one of the 
 latter named was the place I secured for the sea- 
 son a permanent place to earn bread. 
 
 It was about the middle of June; everything 
 looked promising ahead. The agreement was, I 
 should receive forty dollars per month until the 
 first of September, then an increase in compensa- 
 tion would be taken into consideration. This 
 was highly satisfactory to me, there being but one 
 impending difficulty: I was to furnish the type- 
 writer, which, of course, I was in a very poor 
 position to do. I could never stand to pay eight 
 dollars per month for one, and how on earth could 
 I attempt to purchase one. Was in debt then, as 
 far as I cared to go, but under the circumstances 
 there was nothing else to do. One hundred dol-
 
 108. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 lars for the typewriter, to be paid in #25.00 in- 
 stallments, Harry agreeing to help me out when 
 needful, or rather when necessary, as it was need- 
 ful then. How I did squeeze that little forty dol- 
 lars every month, but squeeze as I might, the 
 twenty-five dollars could not be stored away to 
 meet the notes that came due with such start- 
 ling regularity. All the time my account with 
 Harry was growing larger instead of getting less; 
 however, I was prospering very nicely with the 
 work. The office was in what might have been 
 used for a store building, a long, narrow concern. 
 In the front was the real estate office, in the rear 
 an express office, the latter being in charge of a 
 young lady. There was hardly work enough to 
 keep a fellow busy, but there were no other office 
 men at all,*hence my work consisted of everything 
 from office boy to coachman and general manager 
 while Mr. Moneymaker was out, and he was out 
 most of the time. The letters did not average 
 more than five or six a day; considerable writing 
 and copying to do, but nothing very difficult. The 
 first resolution passed in my mind was, I would 
 show Mr. Moneymaker that I was not afraid to 
 work, hence the office was swept out each morn- 
 ing and everything dusted off before he came 
 down. No matter what there was to do, if it was 
 anything my ability was able to cope with, I act- 
 ed. Sometimes it was to go out and assist in 
 cleaning out some new houses just completed, 
 sweep out the loose shavings, anything to invest
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 109. 
 
 the time in the best manner possible. Some days 
 he would be away all day, then all there was to 
 do was to play manager and talk with the express 
 company's representative. 
 
 From a social standpoint, except in office hours, 
 life was rather barren for me, home-sickness often 
 visited my room, but it lacked the terrible pangs 
 of disappointment that had accompanied it at the 
 culmination of my book representative career. 
 As time wore on, acquaintances began to be made 
 at the boarding house, some of which I after- 
 wards sorely repented; some, one especially, is a 
 warm friend to this day. Another, my acquaint- 
 ance with him, proved very expensive, as the cur- 
 rency he borrowed years ago for two weeks is 
 still at large. 
 
 Early in the fall, I arranged to visit the people 
 at home. Mother was anxious for me to come, 
 and Jennie wrote awfully encouraging about my 
 coming; so, one evening, finding Mr. Money- 
 maker in a very pleasant mood, the subject was 
 broached and the request granted. Ten days off 
 and a trip home. Only those who have been 
 taken from quiet home life and thrown among 
 strangers, can fully appreciate what those words 
 mean, what a feeling they bring to a person. The 
 thought of seeing all the old landmarks that 
 have been watched from childhood, plenty of 
 fresh air, nothing to do but enjoy life. Time 
 could not pass fast enough between this and the 
 time for starting.
 
 110. 'JHK STENOGRAPHER 
 
 After visiting the folks at home a short time, 
 the country intervening between the old home- 
 stead and the ranch that had so often been visited 
 by me in times passed, was crossed. I was tolera- 
 bly well pleased to see Jennie, and she was tickled 
 to death to see me; in fact, she was so tickled, ex- 
 cited, or something, that before I could recover 
 myself upon entering the door, she deliberately 
 kissed me. The thoughts that flitted across my 
 mind were never reduced to words, the blood 
 rushed to my face and perspiration started on my 
 forehead, but presuming that that was the proper 
 manner we must meet, said nothing, dropped into a 
 chair and was soon waiting for the kids to retire. 
 The ancient man was well supplied with haps and 
 mishaps that had transpired during my absence, 
 but owing to the heated condition of the elements, 
 he retired rather early, as did the remainder of 
 the family, and soon we were left alone. She 
 talked and talked, and so did I; patched up all the 
 old "scraps" that had taken place before my leav- 
 ing, all of which, as those who have had expe- 
 rience know, has a tendency to make one think 
 he is sailing down life's river on flowery beds of 
 ease. After the clock had voiced its sentiments a 
 few times, I and the faithful creature tied at the 
 gate, wended our weary way across the country, 
 and sweet sleep ended the scene. During the 
 visit, one other trip was made over there; possibly 
 two; the last one was a regular heart-breaker, or 
 should have been, at least. Jennie acted as though
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS III. 
 
 she thought more of me than she did of the brin- 
 dle cow, and I commenced to think that without 
 her, life for me would be but a life of snow-storms 
 and earthquakes; but time called me hence. The 
 worst feature of a visit with home folks now came, 
 the time when farewell must again be uttered. 
 While the thought of a visit at home is one very 
 pleasant to a boy, after having been away for a 
 year or two, the thought of returning to his place 
 of labor among strangers, saying farewell to 
 mother, while the tears are rolling down her cheeks, 
 little sister crying, and a very heavy feeling about 
 your own heart, it, to a very large degree, offsets 
 the pleasure experienced; yet, of such is human 
 life composed; we must taste the bitter to appre- 
 ciate the sweet. 
 
 On the return trip, I stopped over one day at 
 Gentleburg and visited with Harry Jones. This 
 marked another oasis in the social world for me. 
 Harry was such a fine fellow and such a friend. 
 If the world was full of such young men, human 
 life would be lifted at least one degree higher, and 
 it would be well worth living. 
 
 Monday morning found me at the office. Mr. 
 Moneymaker had been quite busy, and had been 
 forced to secure the assistance of a lady during 
 my absence. Business did not boom any more, 
 but, on the contrary, gradually grew worse. 
 
 About this time the acquaintance of Billy Good- 
 fellow was formed, and has continued to grow 
 ever since. Partially through his influence and
 
 112. THE STENOGRAPRER 
 
 partially as a means of sociability and recreation, 
 I was induced to unite with a detachment of some 
 sort of a business of the State Militia. We drilled 
 and drilled, and learned a little, but it was a 
 tough gang, to say the least. We kept it up for a 
 long time, then some big fellow, in name only, 
 came down from the State Capitol and saw us 
 drill, gave but little encouragement, and the com- 
 pany became disgusted, got into a little scrap, and 
 disbanded. When they re-organized, I did not 
 fall in line, although the second attempt made 
 proved successful; but my ambition to be a soldier 
 bold soon wore off. 
 
 Business continued to grow so much worse, 
 Mr. Moneymaker said he. could not afford to pay 
 me the salary he was, much longer, and thought 
 it best, for my own good, that I look out for an- 
 other place, in the meantime he would assist me 
 all he could. Under the circumstances, this was 
 all that could be asked of him. He promised not 
 to reduce the salary for a few weeks at any rate, 
 and during that time every effort was to be made 
 on my part to secure another place. 
 
 Most every Sunday was invested at Deadville, 
 coming back to Butchertown in the evening. 
 During the time of my probation, one Sunday 
 evening as we were coming in from Deadville, I 
 picked up a paper off the car floor, and about the 
 first thing my eyes glanced across, was, "Steno- 
 grapher wanted." The next morning at an early
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. U3-- 
 
 hour my application was in the mail; it was one 
 of those initial addresses, and no idea could be 
 formed as to who it was. 
 
 Nothing was heard from it for two or three 
 days, when, on going to dinner one day, imagine 
 my surprise at finding a letter, in answer to my 
 application, from Messrs. Cleanmen & Co., one 
 of the largest packing establishments in the West. 
 They requested that I call at their place of busi- 
 ness, which immediate arrangements were made 
 to do. That afternoon, Mr. Moneymaker did not 
 come in, so about 3 o'clock I went down to the 
 packing establishment, which was some two miles 
 away. Upon showing the letter, I was ushered 
 into a room where a keen eyed man took me in 
 tow. One would have thought by this time my 
 embarrassment would have worn off, when en- 
 deavoring to take dictation, but such was not the 
 case with me. A large cud of gum was being un- 
 mercifully crushed and re-crushed in my mouth 
 when the keen eyed man said, "Take a letter." 
 The system which I then wrote was one in which 
 lines played a very important part; he gave me a 
 yellow pad of paper, no lines on it at all, and in- 
 stead of asking for some that was properly ruled, 
 made an attempt with what was given me. He 
 talked and I wrote at it, then retired to the type- 
 writer room to transcribe. The gum was cut with 
 valor, sweat rolled off my forehead, and after a 
 struggle of about fifteen minutes, returned to the 
 keen eyed man with a sort of an apology for a
 
 ii4- THE STK.\o(;K.\rin;k 
 
 letter. There were two or three very bad breaks 
 in the letter, but instead of pushing me out of the 
 door, he took my application together with the 
 letter just ground out, and told me to follow him, 
 at the same time informing me that he was look- 
 ing for a stenographer for the general superintend- 
 ent's office. 
 
 We looked up the man wearing this title, who 
 proved to be a fine fellow for a man in his posi- 
 tion and build, the latter being of the corpulent 
 variety. Few men who have and hold sway over 
 from one thousand to fifteen hundred men all the 
 time, can hardly be expected to wear a cheerful 
 countenance twenty-four hours every day; hence 
 we may reasonably expect to find a stern man, 
 stern, but exceptionally good for a man in his 
 position. The keen eyed man exhibited the let- 
 ters; the application was fine, almost a perfect 
 letter, the other one was bad. I offered the ex- 
 cuse that there were no lines on the paper; 
 this, together with the anxious look on my face, 
 seemed to strike Mr. Smith, the superintendent, 
 in quite a favorable manner. He cross-questioned 
 me for awhile, among other things telling me I 
 would be expected to furnish my own machine, 
 This, of course, I was fully prepared to do, as the 
 machine was in good shape, and the use of it 
 weighed lightly with me just then, when between 
 me and a position. I did not desire a repetition 
 of the book business, nor a long, fruitless search, 
 as had been my former experience.
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 115. 
 
 In a very short time he told me I could com- 
 mence next day, at the price named in my letter, 
 which was forty dollars per month. . Had I then 
 really understood what a position with that firm 
 meant, I would have accepted thirty rather than 
 have missed it. The agreement was, I should go 
 to work there the next day, so I returned to Mr. 
 Moneymaker's, about as happy as a fellow could 
 well be and live.
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 MVSTKRIKS AND MISERIES IN A MAMMOTH 
 PACKING HOUSE. 
 
 Mr. Moneymaker was pleased to learn of my 
 success, and arrangements were at once effected, 
 v/hereby I should change places the next day. 
 Inasmuch as he had been very kind to me, I did 
 not feel that it would be justice to leave him with- 
 out first getting his writing all done up in good 
 condition, as he would not have the assistance of 
 a stenographer thereafter, hence I worked for him 
 until in the afternoon, when, taking typewriter in 
 hand, I meandered out of the office and started 
 for the new field. 
 
 Only then did I appreciate the kindness he had 
 shown me. I could not expect such lenient treat- 
 ment where my steps were now leading me, and, 
 in fact, my first impression of the packing house 
 had not been at all favorable. Everything looked 
 like it was not a nice place for a fellow to stop, 
 and then, the atmosphere was thick with a smell 
 that it seemed one could never become accus- 
 tomed to having it crowded up his nostrils all day. 
 It was such a large place, so many men around, and 
 everything taken into consideration, when com-
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 117. 
 
 pared with the peaceful little office my lot had 
 heretofore been cast in, it was not at all an in- 
 viting place. 
 
 About four o'clock in the afternoon, I and the 
 typewriter put in our appearance where the keen 
 eyed man was, handed him a little note of excuse 
 from Mr. Moneymaker, for being so late, and we 
 were ushered out to what was called the "slaugh- 
 terhouse office," which was used as Mr. Smith's 
 headquarters. It was a terrible dark place, yet 
 clean. About six or eight men were working 
 in there, but the location was not of the best. 
 There was a large cooler on either side, and day- 
 light gained an entrance from but one end, hence 
 it was necessary to use artificial light most all the 
 time; and, although it was on the third floor, it 
 was always a little damp, even in summer time. 
 
 When getting in there just at the close of the. 
 day, things did not look particularly inviting, and 
 I really wished I had never come down at all; was 
 it possible one could live in such a place, all that 
 noise around there, the clanking of chains, moan- 
 ing of dying cattle, squealing of hogs as the life- 
 blood was oozing out, bleating of lambs, all this 
 coming up the stairway, sent the cold chills over 
 me, and once more, thoughts of the quiet, peace- 
 ful farm life flitted across my mind; but the die 
 was cast, and there was but one thing to do, that 
 was to push ahead. 
 
 There are many peculiarities about packing- 
 houses, that one, not familiar with their workings,
 
 ll.S. THE STKNOCRAPHKR 
 
 never dreams of. There are also many astonish- 
 ing things connected with it that will interest a 
 close observer as long, -as he may be connected 
 with such an establishment. Such a place to 
 study human nature, such a diversity of people 
 working there, such a variety of machinery, and 
 all these things taken together, interests one until 
 he soon"] forgets his surroundings. One rarely 
 ever tires of watching the cattle being driven in 
 on one side, run into their little chute by them- 
 selves, from whence they never return alive; see 
 them fell to the floor with one stroke of the mal- 
 let, then swung up, their throats cut, and before 
 you can hardly realize it, the man called the 
 "header," has taken the hide off the head, turned 
 it back on the neck, and severed the head entirely 
 from the body. The animal is now past danger, 
 and it is pushed along down the endless chain that 
 is constantly in motion. The blood where the 
 cattle are being killed becomes very deep, and is 
 run off into a gutter, caught in a basin below, and 
 afterwards dried and used for a fertilizer. The 
 heads are immediately picked up, and every par- 
 ticle of them utilized. This is one of the charac- 
 teristics of a packing house, nothing is lost that 
 can possibly be utilized in any way, shape or 
 form. 
 
 After the cattle, have their heads taken off, they 
 are thrown on the floor, partly skinned, then hung 
 up again and the remainder of the skin taken 
 off, then dressed and pushed around into the
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. IIQ. 
 
 cooler. All this moving is done by means of end- 
 less chains, consequently there are cattle moving 
 in every direction, on what is known as "killing 
 beds." At first, it always frightened me to go in 
 there, and it seemed impossible to cross the room 
 without being struck by some of the bleeding 
 creatures as they are being pushed back and 
 forth. This place, however, was one of Mr. 
 Smith's favorite resorts, and after having worked 
 there a few months, at one time I stood there 
 among the moving carcasses, with book in hand, 
 and took dictation from him. 
 
 We sometimes hear people, who have heard a 
 great deal about the packing business, tell about 
 pork packing, and how the hogs would come in 
 at one end alive, go out at the other, lard and 
 bacon; however, the struggle of "going through" 
 is more protracted and complicated than would at 
 first seem to the casual observer. It is true, they 
 may slaughter them with wonderful rapidity, yet 
 the curing of pork is a very particular business, 
 and is in itself a profession. The pig does not 
 allow his life to glide from him as does the cow or 
 sheep, but gives all within radius of his voice to 
 know that he is not at all pleased with being hung 
 up by the hind leg, and complains bitterly when 
 the knife is thrust into his heart. When we think 
 of one man standing all day long, continually 
 thrusting the sharp knife into the quivering hearts 
 of the poor fellows, is it any wonder he goes out 
 at night and gets a little drunk?
 
 120. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 The most touching scenes around a place of 
 this kind, is where the poor, innocent looking 
 sheep and lambs are slaughtered. They lay down 
 their lives so manfully, and rarely ever utter an 
 audible complaint. The manner in which they 
 are induced to the slaughter house, is unique. It 
 is a well known fact that wherever one sheep goes 
 the others will all follow, but it is often very diffi- 
 cult, and sometimes next to impossible, to get the 
 first one started in the direction you want them to 
 go, as they seem to cling together and huddle 
 closer, instead of leading off as a bunch of cattle 
 will. The plan used there, was to have an old 
 sheep, familiar with all the hooks and crooks of 
 the house, take him over to the stock yards, 
 secure the bunch of sheep desired to be taken to 
 the house, then turn the old sheep in with them. 
 As soon as the gate is opened he starts back to the 
 house, and, true to their natural inclinations, the 
 rest follow. It is a very easy matter for the 
 drovers to get them over to the house, and as 
 soon as they are fully ushered in, the old sheep 
 works his way out as quickly and quietly as pos- 
 sible and sneaks off, leaving the poor decoyed 
 creatures to their inevitable fate. Soon he is hur- 
 ried off for another bunch, and so he works, per- 
 haps for years. I have sometimes thought if the 
 animal creation really have a conscience, such a 
 sheep must have troubled dreams some nights after 
 having led his fellows to the slaughter all day long, 
 taking into consideration they were "strangers in
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 121. 
 
 a strange land," and he, used to the ways of the 
 city, especially after some days having led from 
 one thousand to twelve hundred to their death. 
 
 The mode of slaughtering the innocent sheep, 
 is at first sight, touching, to say the least. They 
 have a low table, constructed with pegs about 
 eighteen inches high, and five or six inches apart 
 along one side. The sheep are laid on that table 
 with their necks between the pegs and their feet 
 on top of the sheep before them; after the table is 
 full, the man that does the killing comes along 
 with a knife, sticks it right through their neck, 
 and then cuts out, thus severing the entire throat, 
 then bends the head back, breaking the neck. It 
 really seems too bad to slaughter them in this 
 manner. They apparently offer no resistance at 
 all, but meet their fate with, perhaps, a closing of 
 the eyes, kicking a few times, and their spirit has 
 taken its fight to a realm whence no man knoweth, 
 while their body is on the road to mutton. 
 
 One gradually becomes hard-hearted as he 
 lives around a packing-house; so many knives, 
 men are daily getting hurt, chain falling on their 
 head, knife slipping, or something happening to 
 scar the poor fellows up. 
 
 There are some parts of the house where day- 
 light never reaches, and it is very much like a 
 coal mine in that respect, the large coolers, 
 the freezers and places in the cellars. In some of 
 those places, the frost never goes off the pipes, 
 winter or summer, and the climate is in keep-
 
 I2. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 ing with the pipes, hence great care must be ex- 
 ercised in the hot summer weather; this I learned 
 by experience, which 'resulted in a large doctor 
 bill. 
 
 It was so late the first afternoon when I got there, 
 and Mr. Smith being out, he concluded to wait until 
 the next day to commence on me. With this in- 
 formation I made my escape about six o'clock. 
 The office hours commenced at 7 a. m., half an 
 hour for dinner, and, as I afterwards learned, 
 sometimes seemed there was no limit to the length 
 of time one might be expected to work in the 
 evening, before office hours were over. The 
 seven o'clock business in the morning was a set- 
 tled fact, half hour for dinner was all right, and 
 if the work was done at half-past five, then it was 
 time to quit; if not, when a fellow did get through 
 office hours closed. 
 
 There was no suitable place to board near the 
 packing house, and as I was somewhat acquainted 
 in the vicinity where I had been stopping, I con- 
 cluded I would remain there; but, in order for 
 me to get down to that place by seven o'clock, it 
 would be necessary for me to rise at an extremely 
 early hour, as compared with the time I had been 
 rising. Up to this time, half-past eight or nine 
 o'clock had been office hours, and the office only 
 two blocks from where I was living. Could it be 
 arranged to go two miles and get there at seven? 
 
 The old lady who was "master of ceremonies" 
 where my room was located, was quite good in
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 123. 
 
 some ways, but as cold and heartless as a person 
 could well be in others. She was never sociable, 
 and about all she cared for those stopping with 
 her, was for the money she secured at the end of 
 the month for the use of the room. Some time 
 in the day, during my absence, she would arrange 
 the room; other than that, one would hardly know 
 there was such a person about the house. Every 
 article of furniture had held its present place for 
 years, judging from all appearances. It was use- 
 less to think of depending upon her to wake a fel- 
 low, so an alarm clock was the only hopes. This 
 was secured and perched upon the table, but the 
 rules were so strict about getting down on time, it 
 kept me worrying all the time, and all hours of the 
 night found me rolling out to see how long it would 
 be before the alarm was going to perform, until, 
 sometimes I would be so completely worn out by 
 morning, it would voice its sentiments and never 
 arouse me from my gentle slumbers at all; then, 
 by some act of providence or otherwise, I would 
 be awakened about half-past six; On such occa- 
 sion, the near route would be taken, and this on 
 foot. By going down a railroad track, crossing 
 some yards and going along the river, the dis- 
 tance was Very materially lessened. Two minutes 
 for arranging wardrobe, and the soles of my shoes 
 would commence to touch terra firma occasion- 
 ally. After a time, custom caused me to awaken at 
 a sufficiently early hour, and a great difficulty and 
 trouble was overcome.
 
 124- THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 Mr. Smith proved to be so very kind to me, 
 that the thought of never being able to become 
 accustomed to packing house life, soon wore away ? 
 until it finally got to be that the only objection 
 to be found was the extremely long hours. 
 
 Most of my dictation was taken after six o'clock 
 at night, then allow the notes to remain over until 
 next morning and transcribe them. His mail all 
 being local, it would accumulate on his desk dur- 
 ing the day; when he would reach the office about 
 six he would commence to go over it and dictate 
 to me as he read it, thus causing me to remain 
 any length of time in order to complete the list. 
 One other disagreeable feature was the Sunday 
 work, for the Sabbath was very unbecomingly ob- 
 served most of the time around the place. On 
 Sunday morning we would not have to go down 
 as early as on other mornings, and would perhaps 
 quit a little earlier, nevertheless, we were sup- 
 posed to be there. 
 
 In this place, most of my work was of a clerical 
 nature, and an elegant opportunity was afforded 
 for learning about every feature of the entire 
 business, as my duties called me to all parts of 
 the plant. It was really interesting to study the 
 different mechanical arrangements, all in motion 
 at various portions of the plant, all power being 
 received from large engines, perhaps located a 
 block or two away; then the ice machinery proved
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 125. 
 
 an interesting topic for study. Ice machines are 
 becoming so common they are hardly classed with 
 the curiosities any more. 
 
 In December of this same year, Harry and his 
 family moved from Deadville to Butchertown, 
 purchasing a nice place there, and I took up my 
 abode with them. It is needless to say that such 
 action met with my hearty approval, for it was 
 far better than living among strangers. In order 
 to reach the place where Harry lived, from the 
 packing house, it was necessary to walk across 
 about three quarters of a mile of very lonesome 
 neighborhood. It was along the river bank all the 
 way this distance, to the street car line leading 
 out to Harry's, and the distance was dotted a por- 
 tion of the way with some very suspicious looking 
 shanties; the other portion of the way was along 
 a railroad track, on rather high grade. In the 
 fall and winter it was always dark when coming 
 along here at night, and I invariably imagined 
 some one was going to murder me for my money, 
 or the money I would be supposed to have. After 
 leaving the railroad track, there was only a path, 
 the river on one side, the shanties on the other. 
 
 One terrible dark night, as I was going through 
 a very lonesome place, there was a fellow in the 
 path right ahead of me. His actions were very 
 queer, and there was no question in my mind but 
 what he had it in for me; just cut my throat, take my 
 money and throw me into the river. How easily he 
 could do it, nothing be left to tell the tale. Though
 
 126. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 the atmosphere was chilly, my body grew hot and 
 cold, at brief intervals, my head felt funny, and 
 there was a very peculiar feeling about my heart. 
 That he had a dark lantern, there could he no 
 question in my mind, cu was the conclusion 
 formed, that he was there for no good purpose. 
 When one's mind is concentrated on a certain 
 thought, it is wonderful with what rapidity it can 
 traverse a subject, and it is needless to say that 
 all my imaginative powers were now operating on 
 the subject in the path before me. To turn and 
 run; would be but to show that I was afraid of 
 him; this would not be wise; to engage in a hand 
 to hand conflict would not be wise either, unless 
 the case demanded it, and I decided such would 
 not be necessary unless I failed to retreat at a 
 sufficient rate of speed to keep out of his clutches. 
 
 Having resolved itself into a case of where 
 action was absolutely necessary, I made a des- 
 perate bound, keeping as close to the shanties as 
 convenient, and I shot by him before he could 
 have time to act, and to say that sand flew for the 
 rest of the distance to the car station, is express- 
 ing it mildly, for I am yet confident the fellow 
 was hanging around there for the sole purpose of 
 getting gain in an unfair manner. 
 
 At another time, as I was meandering up the 
 railroad track, after dark, though a clear night, 
 yet not so desperately dark as on the evening 
 above referred to, there was a very large dog 
 concluded to give me a chase. It has always
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 127. 
 
 been one of my failings to have a dreadful dislike 
 for the dog species, and on this occasion my love 
 for that portion of the quadruped family was not 
 increased in the least. 
 
 He was barking quite loudly as he started from 
 one of the colored shanties that stood off some 
 distance from the track. He was several rods 
 away when I first discovered he was coming 
 directly at me. A small dinner basket was the 
 only weapon at hand; there was no use to fight 
 him, and being one of the number who believe it 
 better to be a live coward than a dead hero, I at 
 once headed down the track at the top of my 
 speed. Mr. dog apparently increased his pace 
 about this time also, and there we went. It seemed 
 to me that at every bound about ten or fifteen 
 ties were being passed, and the bounds were being 
 duplicated in rapid succession, too. This was 
 kept up for quite a distance, but, leap and bound 
 as I might, the fact became apparent that he was 
 a better turfman than I, for he was unquestionably 
 gaining, and that rapidly. He had the steep em- 
 bankment to climb, but it did not detain him but 
 a very short time. We were both making excel- 
 lent time, yet I soon discovered his was more 
 excellent than mine. When it came to the point 
 that my feet would not more than leave the tie 
 until his would reach it, matters were entirely too 
 uncomfortable for further procedure, and becom- 
 ing convinced that ere long he would reach the 
 tie before my hind leg had left it, I decided to
 
 128. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 turn and try to cause my uncomfortably close 
 follower to think I was dangerous. Stopping sud- 
 denly, drawing the basket up as though death and 
 destruction would descend with it, I brought it 
 down directly in his face. It was so unexpected, 
 he stopped, stepped back a little, and by my 
 showing considerable more bravery than being 
 actually possessed of, I succeeded in persuading 
 him to abandon the chase. Such occurrences as 
 these did not, as you may presume, tend to make 
 it a pleasant walk by any means. 
 
 In this manner I worked for some fourteen 
 months, not, however, without an increase in 
 compensation. The lessons learned were of fully 
 as much value to me as was the currency received, 
 yet both were accepted gracefully. At the end of 
 fourteen months something occurred that caused 
 me to think I would be able to forsake shorthand 
 altogether.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 PROSPECTS FAIR FOR ABANDONING THE ART, 
 BUT RETURN TO SAME. 
 
 In the office which I have before described, 
 the business pertaining to sales in a certain por- 
 tion of the city was handled, cash received, 
 account sales made up and turned in each day. 
 After I had been in the office a little over a year, 
 this position was vacant and tendered to me, and 
 as it paid more than I was getting, besides, being 
 of a more elevated character, or at least appeared 
 so to me, I took it. It was not an easy task, but 
 rather one that required very close attention; how- 
 ever, the promotion caused me to feel like one of 
 the firm, hence, could do about anything. 
 
 About this time we received word from a lady 
 friend up in the country, that she and her boy 
 would come through our town on a certain date, 
 en route fora distant land to visit a relative. Her 
 experience in traveling had been very limited, and 
 of course if we could meet her at the depot, it 
 would be nice. She was a very nice lady, and we 
 would be glad to see her. 
 
 Just as my luck usually was on such occasions, 
 Harry was out of town on the eve of her expected
 
 130. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 arrival, so my lot was to meet our expected guest 
 at the train. While, as, already stated, she was a 
 very nice lady, she was extremely corpulent, weigh- 
 ing in the vicinity of three hundred avoirdupois, 
 and never having traveled a great deal, she did 
 not take into consideration what trouble a cart 
 load of baskets, grips, etc., all filled with articles 
 of a various nature, would cause in changing cars 
 in a city. 
 
 The train was late; after ten o'clock when she 
 arrived; the boy was of course asleep. One glance 
 told the story. She had luggage enough to swamp 
 a man, the kid as limber as a rag and as heavy as 
 a piece of lead. After some scuffling around, 
 visitor and her luggage were unloaded. I grap- 
 pled the boy under one arm, clutched what luggage 
 I could manage under the other, and took up the 
 march. Visitor carried the remainder of the 
 rnoveables. Poor woman, she imagined that every 
 bell that rang in the vicinity of the depot was ring- 
 ing for her to get off the track, until it seemed 
 there was no place on top of the face of the earth 
 for her. It was necessary that all my persuasive 
 powers be brought to bear to convince her that 
 her time had not yet come to cross over into 
 eternity, but to get a move up and let's be going. 
 After worrying street-car conductors, surprising 
 the natives, and encountering a few other difficul- 
 ties, we succeeded in reaching the point of com- 
 pass for which we were steering.
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 131. 
 
 Prosperity seemed to be my lot for a short time, 
 and everything passed along smoothly. My ex- 
 perience in handling cash had been so extremely 
 limited, that sometimes it proved embarrassing to 
 have a pile of money poured out upon the desk, 
 and one night when balancing the cash, it would 
 not balance. There was no use to figure, some- 
 thing was wrong. Next morning I tried it again, 
 but try as I might, there was a shortage in the 
 cash. What a mean feeling it did cause; not so 
 much for the loss of the money, although I was in 
 no position to lose that amount, yet the thought 
 of not being able to account for it, hurt worse. 
 The cash was never all deposited in the bank at 
 one time, so the shortage could have been carried 
 for months, as we were never checked up very 
 closely, yet the terrible uncomfortable feeling 
 made life perfectly miserable for me. I did not 
 mention it for some time; finally, when .Saturday 
 night came, I resolved to break the news to Mr. 
 Smith, let come what might. The only explana- 
 tion that could be given, was, that in making 
 change, or counting a large pile of small money, 
 gold pieces had been allowed to pass for some- 
 thing else. This explanation was offered; Mr. Smith 
 looked at me in a manner he had never looked 
 before; yet, even while under the stern gaze of his 
 keen eye, there was even a more comfortable feel- 
 ing than I had experienced for several days before. 
 There was the sense of having done the right 
 thing, regardless of what might follow.
 
 IJ2. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 He did not say much, and there was really no 
 telling what to expect on my part. The next pay 
 day I took from my pay enough to make up the 
 deficit. Shortly afterwards, Mr. Smith came in 
 and threw down some money on the desk, and in 
 a quiet tone told me to take out enough from that 
 to make up the shortage; this, he was doing out 
 of his own pocket. The satisfaction with which I 
 informed him that the shortage had already been 
 supplied from my own pocket, can better be im- 
 agined than described. He gave me another keen 
 look, though more pleasant than before, yet said 
 nothing of importance, and matters went along as 
 of yore. This lasted for two or three weeks, 
 perhaps a little longer, until one evening Mr. 
 Smith sent for me to come into his private room. 
 
 These packers had branch houses in most every 
 large town in the United States, or at least a great 
 many of the Eastern towns, and some in the 
 West. Mr. Smith advised me that they were hav- 
 ing some trouble with the house at Gentleburg, 
 and asked how I would like to go up there. It 
 was the very place I had often wished to live; but 
 the question was, would my limited experience en- 
 able me to do the work. He informed me that 
 the manager of the branch houses had enquired of 
 him for a man, and that he had recommended me. 
 After studying a short time, I asked to have until 
 the next day to decide, to which he of course 
 agreed. After consulting Harry that night, it 
 was decided it would be best for me to try it, so
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 133. 
 
 the next morning I went to the office with that in- 
 tention. Upon investigation, not altogether due 
 to inquisitiveness on my part either, I learned 
 that there seemed to be a leak in cash matters at 
 Gentleburg, and the manager had enquired of the 
 superintendent for a man that could be trusted. 
 Mr. Smith gave me a very favorable recommenda- 
 tion, saying, that whatever I said could be banked 
 upon, and that there would be no question as to 
 my word. Of course this was all brought about, 
 or largely so, at least, by my shortage in the 
 money drawer and the disposition made of it. 
 
 Arrangements were made for my departure for 
 Gentleburg, which was to take place the following 
 Saturday. You will bear in mind that this is the 
 place where Oscar Jones lives, and there was no time 
 lost in advising him of the new change. He was 
 of course pleased to know that I was coming there 
 to live, and so planned that my stopping place 
 should be with him, as his people lived there now. 
 With the prospects ahead of me, the old ambition 
 of growing rich breaking forth anew, the excite- 
 ment of leaving, and all, seemed to overcome all 
 thoughts of being homesick at the thought of leav- 
 ing Harry. There was a sense of relief in the 
 assurance of not having to report to that old 
 slaughter-house office every morning at seven 
 o'clock, month after month, and work from ten 
 to fourteen hours each day. 
 
 Sunday night, my back was turned upon Butch- 
 ertown, and after a few hours' ride was at Gentle-
 
 134- THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 burg. The circumstances in connection with the 
 house there, were not as favorable as my anticipa- 
 tions had led me to expect, yet it was more pleas- 
 ant, in many ways, than where my lot had been 
 cast. There was more fresh air, shorter hours, 
 and more liberties; besides, my duties did not 
 keep me in the office all the time. 
 
 The office was located in a very lonesome part 
 of the town, especially after dark, when the whole- 
 sale houses were closed. The general surround- 
 ings were not inviting, from the fact that one of 
 the men was discharged outright the morning I 
 went there, and I took his place. This would 
 naturally cause the other fellows to look upon me 
 in rather an unpleasant way. The manager of the 
 house there, more as a matter of policy than any- 
 thing else, treated me very nicely for a short time. 
 At that time I did not surmise there was any pol- 
 icy about it for him, but, having had enough said 
 to me that I might know how I stood with the 
 house at Butchertown, and the ones who held 
 power and sway, there was little use of trembling 
 from fear of anything except unfair play. If their 
 policy game did not work, that they might resort 
 to this, was something that was not so pleasant to 
 brood over. 
 
 The accounts were in a dreadful shape, every 
 stub had been torn from the check book, and bal- 
 ances forced just to suit the occasion. Entire 
 charge of the accounts was at once turned over to
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 135. 
 
 me, which did not at all meet the approval of Mr. 
 Brown, manager of the Gentleburg house. 
 
 My home being with Oscar while at Gentleburg, 
 I formed the acquaintance of one Timothy Slo- 
 cum, who was also a stenographer, and who has 
 played a very important part in my life ever since. 
 He was a stenographer for a railroad company 
 at the time, a fine fellow and one who was quite 
 congenial to me, hence we soon became very 
 warm friends. He, together with Oscar, caused 
 life to be very pleasant in a social way, besides, 
 they had a number of friends there with whom I 
 soon became acquainted. 
 
 Things at the office did not go at all smooth; 
 the beef kept shrinking, car fares ran beyond all 
 reason, Mr. Brown was cranky because the cash 
 was being checked up too close, and it appeared 
 everything worked together for the common evil. 
 When out collecting, they would arrange to reach 
 the office about 6:30, so as to be sure and keep 
 me there until seven, settling up. Finally, the 
 fatal day came for Mr. Brown. In his turning 
 over the cash, he reported an unreasonable short- 
 age at a certain place, which of course to him I 
 did not question, but the next day made a per- 
 sonal investigation, and discovered that he was 
 simply making a steal. . This was immediately re- 
 ported to the house at Butchertown, although Mr. 
 Brown did not learn of it. 
 
 After this, quite frequently occurrences of like 
 nature came up, in which circumstances spoke
 
 136 THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 too plainly to be mistaken, and of which a rec- 
 ord was kept on the quiet. Among the other con- 
 tingencies of our force at Gentleburg there was a 
 large, tall fellow who went by the name of "Joe." 
 He had been a second class prize fighter, something 
 of a base-ball sport, but had proven only a par- 
 tial success at either of them, yet as a beef handler 
 he was a success in every particular. To handle a 
 quarter of beef with him was a very easy mat- 
 ter. His past record was of a very gloomy char- 
 acter, and he would sometimes tell me stories of 
 his cut-throat experiences that would cause the 
 cold chills to run over me when we would be in 
 the office alone, late at night; in short, I was afraid 
 of him. Owing to some act which he had com- 
 mitted in the very recent past he was forced to 
 abandon his position and soon left the town. He 
 was a wonderful character, and although what 
 -most people would term "tough," there was an 
 inner nature to his being, though seldom brought 
 to the surface, which was admirable. One of his 
 noble traits was to eulogize his mother. 
 
 Things went on with Mr. Brown at the head of 
 the concern, until early in February, when matters 
 came to a focus. Mr. Brown was advised that 
 his services were no longer needed, and a new 
 man placed in his stead. -It was a case of "from 
 bad to worse," as far as f .he Gentleburg house 
 was concerned. The new man had been with 
 the firm for a number of years, and had, as 
 far as they knew, been all right, but the tempta-
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 137. 
 
 tion proved too much for him, and he fell back 
 into the rut he had escaped for years, that of par- 
 taking excessively of intoxicants. For a time he 
 did splendidly, and after everything was running 
 in good order, I went back to Butchertown. That 
 the new man partook freely of intoxicating bev- 
 erages I was aware, but had no idea [of what it 
 would soon lead to. 
 
 It was not at all pleasant for me to leave the ac- 
 quaintances formed in Gentleburg; for even though 
 there but a few months, a number of friends were 
 left behind, when returning to Butchertown. The 
 thought of again facing the packing house did not 
 loom up before my eyes with any great degree of 
 pleasure. The purpose for which I was sent to 
 Gentleburg had been accomplished and of course 
 my return followed. However, after my depar- 
 ture from there, the new man became such a fre- 
 quenter of places where the flowing bowl was wont 
 to hold forth, that he soon lost his place. On 
 one occasion he was on a protracted over-in- 
 dulgence in the beverage and continued so all 
 day. He locked up the office, and would not let 
 people in. When called up by telephone, he 
 answered that he was on a drunk, and not doing 
 any business that day. This proved fatal to him. 
 
 For nearly two weeks, after returning to the 
 packing house, my occupation consisted of about 
 anything and everything that came along; at the 
 expiration of that time there was a position vacant in 
 the general office of the firm, which was secured for
 
 138. THE STENOGRAPH Ilk 
 
 me. Thus my intimate relationship with the pack- 
 ing house ceased, but as the office was only half 
 a block from the slaughtering department, my 
 situation was close enough yet. However, the 
 hours were not so long, and- the office was much 
 more pleasant. My duties were, part of them, rather 
 unique. Part was in the stenographic line, only 
 a small portion of it, however, the rest of the 
 time being clerical duties and coding messages. 
 They used the wire extensively with their branch 
 houses in different parts of the United States, and 
 all the messages sent to them were sent in coded 
 words. This might seem to one to be rather a 
 small task, but when taken into consideration that 
 sometimes as high as fifty car loads of meat left 
 the house daily, and a list of the contents of each 
 car was sent over the wire to its destination, it 
 will dawn upon the mind that more of a task was 
 involved than would seem to the casual thinker. 
 For instance, a car of fresh meat was billed to 
 New York; the car contained so many cattle, hogs 
 and sheep. There were words in the book that 
 stood for most any number of each class of ani- 
 mals; cattle, sheep and hogs all on one page, in 
 different columns, but one line of figures designat- 
 ing the number of animals. Hy gliding down 
 the columns it was an exceedingly easy matter to 
 get into the hog column when you wanted to be 
 in the sheep column. When a branch house in 
 the East would receive the wire giving the con- 
 tents of the car, they would sell from the wire, to
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 139. 
 
 arrive on such a date. One evening, soon after 
 commencing this kind of work, my eyes wandered 
 into the wrong column, and instead of telling the 
 car contained one hundred head of dressed sheep 
 I used the word to signify one hundred head of 
 dressed hogs. The hogs were sold, but when the 
 car arrived it contained sheep. When the news 
 reached the place, I presumed there would be noth- 
 ing to do now but to look for another place, but it 
 appeared they expected a new man on the job to 
 make a few errors, and I was amply gratifying 
 their expectations in this regard. After that, 
 greater care was exercised on my part, and 
 although followed for nearly a year, nothing of a 
 similar nature occurred; but to say chat such a 
 position is a pleasant one, we could not. The 
 chances for errors are entirely too great, and it 
 necessitates one being constantly on his guard. 
 
 After returning to Butchertown my stopping 
 place was with Harry, as before, and the trips 
 across the vacant space between the packing house 
 and the cars had to be spanned twice daily. There 
 was a friend who lived up in our part of the town, 
 and quite frequently we would cross this space 
 together in the morning as we were going to the 
 house. One morning, he went to cross the rail- 
 road track in front of an approaching engine, but 
 missed his calculations and was instantly killed. 
 He had but recently joined the benedicts, and 
 was, from his own story, enjoying life in a sub 
 lime manner. He was a very faithful fellow, and
 
 140. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 had been with the firm for years', but his occupa- 
 tion was changed very abruptly, and without much 
 previous consultation. The thought flashed across 
 my mind at the time, how strange it was that 
 learned men of our land should puzzle their entire 
 lives and endeavor to fathom the mysteries of the 
 future state, yet this man learned more in two 
 minutes than did they in a life time. His in- 
 formation was of course of no value to us, and we 
 did not care to follow his example to become edi- 
 fied in this particular line at the present time. 
 
 All this time matters in a social line were almost 
 at a stand-still with me, time being so occupied 
 with other matters. After the intimate relation- 
 ship that had in years passed existed between Jen- 
 nie and myself had died out, like most young fel- 
 lows, I lost confidence in the gentler sex, and did 
 not lose any sleep over them. Leisure hours were 
 either invested with Billy Goodfellow or in read- 
 ing. While this sort of life may suit some, it, 
 after a time became rather monotonous to me; yet 
 all this time my social qualities were being cooped 
 up but to burst forth in terror in che near future. 
 
 During the year after having left Gentleburg, 
 Timothy Slocum became disengaged with the 
 railroad company tnat he had been laboring wich, 
 and after rustling the typewriter in a wholesale 
 house for a month or two, secured another posi- 
 tion with a railroad company which landed him 
 in the little town of Jolleyville, located a long 
 ways south of Gentleburg, and also south of
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 141. 
 
 Butchertown. He had a very favorable position, 
 but things were so different, and among strangers, 
 that he was dreadfully lonesome. 
 
 There had always been a way back inclination 
 about me that suggested the railroad business would 
 suit me far better than anything else, although no 
 definite plan of action had ever been mapped out as 
 to how the change was to be brought about. The 
 place now occupied by me was very good, and 
 everything passing along smoothly; the code words 
 became familiar, and often whole messages could 
 be written without referring to the book, yet every 
 sentence be in code. 
 
 In the fall of that year, Timothy wrote me there 
 would be an opening in the office where he was 
 working, and asked if I wanted it. It was real 
 tempting, but the compensation offered was such 
 a slight increase over what I was then getting, it 
 did not seem wise to accept, and so the offer was 
 declined. This created a spirit of partial dissat- 
 isfaction about packing house work which never 
 left me. A few months later, another opening 
 was reported by Timothy, which paid something 
 more than the other one, and considerable more 
 than the position where I was, so, after due con- 
 sideration and figuring both pro and con, I de- 
 cided to take it. The opening would occur the 
 first of the year, and all arrangements were made 
 accordingly.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 LIFE IN A NEW FIELD RAILROADING THE REAL 
 
 TERRORS OF BEING UNABLE TO READ 
 YOUR OWN NOTES. 
 
 It was on a cold Sunday night, January 3d, that a 
 south-bound train from Butchertown bore what was 
 left of my somewhat demoralized and bewildered 
 frame. Little did I dream what the then imme- 
 diate future held in store for me. Had such in- 
 formation been in my possession, no doubt the 
 trip would never have been taken, but Monday 
 morning would have witnessed my form at the 
 packing house again. There is no doubt but 
 what it is often far better for us that we have 
 never been endowed with the faculty of solving 
 the mysteries of the future, for, to some of us 
 such knowledge would prove a curse rather than a 
 blessing. While it may be wise to be always pre- 
 pared for an emergency, there would be no joy in 
 life could we always know of the trouble that 
 would cross our pathway at various future dates. 
 It is human nature to be hoping and planning for 
 the best, and even though we may be bitterly dis- 
 appointed in some cherished anticipation, never-
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 143. 
 
 theless we have had some enjoyment which neither 
 principalities nor powers can rend from us, in the 
 now disappointed hope. 
 
 As the train whirled along that night, the 
 thoughts of being severed from acquaintances and 
 friends, also losing the home which had been 
 afforded me with Harry, weighed not a little upon 
 my mind; but the thought of living in a small 
 town, together with railroad work, was a sort of 
 balm for my wounds. Besides this, there would 
 be the association of Timothy; all these things 
 being considered, the thoughts of the future were 
 pictured in rather more glowing colors before me, 
 than they otherwise would have been. There was 
 one thing about it that every person should take 
 into consideration when making a change in occu- 
 pation of this kind, and that is, we are changing a 
 certainty for an uncertainty, and unless the cir- 
 cumstances are much in favor of the change, 
 great precaution should be exercised. I have 
 often wondered at the itinerant disposition of 
 many stenographers, and my advice would be to 
 stick to a good place when you get it, and don't 
 think every other fellow in the country has a snap 
 but you. 
 
 There was one other fellow from Gentleburg, 
 by the name of Sam Perfumery, with whom I was 
 slightly acquainted, working for this same com- 
 pany with Timothy; with these two we could 
 doubtless pass our leisure hours profitably and 
 pleasantly.
 
 144- THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 On reaching Jolleyville, both Timothy and Sam 
 met me at the depot. This town was fine, about 
 ten thousand population, and beautifully located 
 on a rolling prairie. The streets and yards were 
 all set with trees, and while everything was of 
 course barren now, one could not help but see it 
 must be very beautiful in the summer. 
 
 The boys were both stopping at the hotel, and, 
 as would naturally follow, my name was placed 
 on the register at the same place. So far, every- 
 thing had passed along very nicely, but now the 
 time had come. Up to this time my stenographic 
 life had consisted in a very few letters each day, 
 and never had I held a place where all the work 
 was stenographic and typewriting; but now a new 
 era was to open up. With the exception of what 
 experience one could get in the traffic department 
 of a large firm,. I was ignorant concerning rail- 
 roading, further than that I had seen trains skim 
 across the country and traveled a little on them, 
 walked on the track and rode a railroad tricycle, 
 as explained in previous chapters. 
 
 It had been hinted to me that the chief clerk 
 in the office where I was to earn bread by the 
 sweat of my brow, was pretty rapid and hard to 
 take, but I was chucked brim full of confidence, 
 and thought none of them too swift for me. To 
 hold the place, I found it would be necessary to 
 write from one hundred to one hundred and twen- 
 five letters each day; this, when compared with 
 the fifteen or twenty that had been my number of
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 145, 
 
 letters daily, looked extremely large, yet anticipa- 
 tion, backed up by confidence, acted as an im- 
 petus to keep up my courage. 
 
 I was taken to the office in the morning and 
 introduced to the typewriter that would be the 
 means of my making a livelihood. It was a 
 dreadful old affair; looked as if it might have been 
 used by Noah's private secretary. Then followed 
 an introduction to the fellows who were to be my 
 dictators, three in number, and every one with 
 a pile of mail a foot high. One fellow commenced 
 to dictate to me as soen as I got settled down, 
 and it appeared he would never get through; there 
 was one redeeming feature about him, however, 
 and that was, he did not talk very fast, and was 
 just as good to a stenographer as circumstances 
 would permit. After filling the note book about 
 half full of notes, he finished up his desk for the 
 day and the typewriter at once engaged my atten- 
 tion. It had been worn so long, and so loose, it 
 was like an old sawmill with all the wheels loose, 
 and when scrambling over the keys it made a sort 
 of rattling noise instead of a clicking sound, as 
 typewriters are wont to do. The rest of the day 
 was invested on those letters, as well as that eve- 
 ning, but before sleeping the book was clear. 
 There were so many phrases that were entirely 
 foreign to my limited vocabulary, hence I often 
 experienced difficulty in reading the notes. Next 
 morning, man number two tackled me; he was 
 not quite so bad as the first, was very easy to take,
 
 146. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 and I got along splendidly; but, woe, woe, the 
 chief clerk had not as yet dictated to me at all. 
 Timothy had been doing the necessary work for 
 him until I could get a foot hold. 
 
 The chief clerk was such a frightful looking fel- 
 low, and apparently always mad, that I was afraid 
 of him even when he was not dictating, ami it 
 seemed to be, as I have since learned, one of his 
 peculiar characteristics to kill a new man on the 
 start, if at all possible, and especially was it so with 
 stenographers. That he had it in for me, soon 
 became apparent, yet I' anticipated no serious 
 difficulty in taking his dictation. Finally the other 
 two men were in shape, my book clear, and a 
 large pile of mail on the desk of the chief clerk. 
 It was now or never. All at once the silent monot- 
 ony was broken by "Get yer book, "spoken so 
 quick and sharp that my poor heart was in uiy 
 throat already. The requested book was flopped 
 into position as gracefully as possible under the 
 circumstances, and pencil in hand, we started. We 
 started together, but it is needless to say we 
 did not end together. He commenced spitting 
 out the words at the rate of about two hun- 
 dred a minute, and by the time one document 
 had been finished there was another one in the 
 works, and he all the time talking, as if he 
 would like to chew up stenographer, typewriter, 
 desk and all. I was just a "jumping and grab- 
 bing," as the saying goes, "here a line and there 
 a line," but still he went; finally he distanced me
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 147. 
 
 entirely, and, during one of the brief interims 
 while he was catching his breath, I managed to 
 swallow my heart and gasp out something about, 
 if his time was not too valuable we could get 
 along better by not becoming so hasty in our 
 trip. The exact words used can never be re- 
 called, but sufficeth to say it only brought forth 
 some swearing at me, and I was there and 
 then given to understand he was not to be in- 
 terrupted in his dictation. With this brief rest 
 (?) we started again, and away we went like 
 unto the first time. The sweat was rolling down 
 my forehead, the pencil was getting dull, and the 
 note book was but one conglomeration of scratches, 
 dots, dashes and scrawls. Pretty soon he had 
 said all he wanted to about the mail, and I had 
 a few clews of what remarks he had made, but 
 was so completely tired out when the chase was 
 over, that it seemed I could never read them, and 
 there was no use to try. He had dictated some 
 messages alone in the mail that he wanted right 
 away, threw the stuff over on my table, turned his 
 back and acted as though his time was worth four 
 hundred dollars per niinute. The cold consola- 
 tion received when venturing something about the 
 speed at which we were making letters, gave me 
 to understand that there was no use questioning 
 any, but to go to work and write them off, or 
 throw up the job, that's all there was to be done. 
 Some -of the letters I could not tell where they 
 commenced or where they ended; some, I could
 
 148. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 not tell who they were to, and then, tanglol up 
 with all that muss there were some wires to be 
 written "right away." ,* There was one thing cer- 
 tain, that "right away" business must be an in- 
 definite time, for, to get them off with any degree 
 of alacrity, was entirely out of the question. Oh, 
 those lucid anticipations and fostered confidence, 
 where, oh, where are they now! I almost wished 
 that there had been a millstone tied about my 
 neck and I had been cast in the deep in my 
 youth. 
 
 After a severe struggle, which lasted for quite a 
 length of time, a little batch of battered up, 
 scrawny messages were put on the desk of his royal 
 highness. I felt as though I would like to crawl 
 under the typewriter until he looked over them, 
 for fear he would commit some desperate depreda- 
 tion, or kill me with a paper-weight. I do not be- 
 lieve the fellow had a single ounce of sympathy 
 at the time; or my looks would certainly have 
 moved him to extend a little courtesy and leniency 
 toward me, but he did not; he seemed to think I 
 should learn it all in a day, take dictation just as 
 fast as he could possibly talk, and then transcribe 
 them instantly without an. error, have them look 
 nice enough to frame, even if written on a type- 
 writer that a professional could not turn out a de- 
 cent letter on. 
 
 Much to my surprise he did not kick very hard 
 about the telegrams, scratched a few of them, and 
 by writing them over, they went. That night
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 149. 
 
 Timothy went back to the office with me, and, as 
 we both pretended to write the same system, or, 
 in other words, I attempted to write the same sys- 
 tem that he did, he could assist me very ma- 
 terially in transcribing my notes. The trouble was, 
 there was so much of it that was not there to trans- 
 cribe, and, then so many scrawls that did not look 
 like anything in the heavens above or the earth 
 below. Once in awhile we would strike some- 
 thing we could read, then we would read the cor- 
 respondence all through and endeavor to fit a 
 sentence around the word. If the word proved 
 to be a root word to a sentence, we would be all 
 right; but, if it chanced to be the word "it" or 
 "is," that we could decipher, it will at once dawn 
 upon the mind of a stenographer that it would be 
 no small task to fill in the missing links. We 
 worked until nearly twelve o'clock; worn out and 
 weary, we went to the room. How I did wish I 
 might have the place I left at Butchertown back 
 again. It was only now that I realized what a 
 fine place that was. Before going home, however, 
 we had made a bluff at all of them. There was 
 but one hope that I would not be let out at once, 
 and that was, Timothy stood in pretty well, and 
 stenographers were scarce in that part of the 
 country. That the letters were nothing near 
 right, I well knew, but they were the very best 
 that could be done. 
 
 The next morning all went as smoothly as usual 
 until he came to look over the letters, and then
 
 150. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 his cup of indignation "runneth over." For a 
 time it appeared that I would not only lose my 
 job, but have to fleeirom the wrath to come. His 
 wrath finally subsided slightly, and he committed 
 no rash violence, but used the pen freely in the 
 body of the letters. A great many of them were 
 re-written, some scratched up and allowed to go 
 through, and some dictated over. But what was 
 the use to try; should I ever be able to take 
 his letters; how could a fellow ever have anything 
 like enjoyment in life under these conditions. 
 
 After this, for two or three days he kept giving 
 his letters to Timothy, and would rarely ever 
 notice me except occasionally when something 
 would go wrong he would turn around and cuss 
 me a little. There was one fault he had, from his 
 own standpoint, and that was, he was cross and 
 cussed so much that it failed to have the desired 
 effect when the occasion demanded it, as one 
 would become accustomed to it. 
 
 Timothy was a congenial companion, and, 
 together with Sam, we would invest what little 
 leisure time we had. This time was very limited, 
 however, as we worked about eighteen hours some 
 days, about fourteen on an average, Sunday ex- 
 cepted. 
 
 After three or four days from the first escapade, 
 Mr. Chief Clerk thought he would give me an- 
 other chase, so, after remarkably brief prelimina- 
 ries, we started again, this time, at about the same 
 rate as before, but having been cautioned by Tim-
 
 HIS LIFE AXD TRIALS. 151. 
 
 othy to brace up, and not be afraid of him, I suc- 
 ceeded in getting most of the addresses so he 
 could tell what they stood for, and an occasional 
 sentence. What a case it was of seeing the ter- 
 ribleness of man's inhumanity to man. He was 
 but working on a salary as myself; true, he was 
 getting more, but, nevertheless, I was an Amer- 
 ican citixen, just as much as he was, and to think 
 I must be treated in that manner, went very much 
 against the grain. Some people, in. fact a great 
 many of them, seem to think a stenographer is 
 but one degree above a machine, and sometimes 
 they talk to their stenographer as though he was 
 hardly equal to the typewriter he operated. Such 
 treatment is not justice, and it seems to me if men 
 could but appreciate that their stenographer is 
 a human being, they would treat him with more 
 courtesy. Were I in a position to put in a plea 
 for the stenographic force of our land, it would 
 be on this line. As a rule, they are fairly well paid, 
 and usually do not have to work as hard as an ordi- 
 nary clerk, but it is a lamentable fact that they 
 are not treated from a social standpoint as they 
 should be. We believe that any conscientious 
 stenographer will do more for his employer's in- 
 terests, if treated as an employee, or treated as 
 kindly as are the other employees, than if he is 
 used as a dog. He is presumed to know every- 
 thing, take all the kicks that float, and besides, 
 keep his mouth closed outside of office hours, of 
 anything pertaining to the business. If a steno- 
 grapher does not try, then there is cause for find- 
 ing fault; but when he is doing his very best, he 
 should have a little leniency shown.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 STENOGRAPHER'S LIFE FROM A SOCIAL STANDPOINT. 
 
 If there is any department of clerical work 
 where exercise is needed, it is in the stenographic. 
 To sit and pick away at the typewriter all day, 
 hammering those glass keys, becomes exceedingly 
 monotonous. For two or three months after reach- 
 ing Jolleyville, Timothy, Sam and I formed about 
 the extent of our associations, none of us being 
 inclined to lead what, in modern times, is termed a 
 sporting life, hence we were, to a degree, con- 
 genial. 
 
 When the weather permitted, as a means of ex- 
 ercise, we would roam over the prairie for a mile 
 or two, feasting our eyes upon the beautiful 
 scenery, which consisted in an occasional mole 
 hill, or, a little stream with all the fish hooked out. 
 Another favorite sport was, boxing; in this, Tim- 
 othy wore the medal; I wore the large blue places 
 on my arms and chest. 
 
 Sam had a peculiar failing for the gentler sex, 
 and we had not been there but a -short time until 
 he was under the impression that at least half of 
 the native girls of the town thought he was next 
 door to perfection. He usually dressed as though
 
 His LIFE AND TRIALS. 153. 
 
 he had picked himself out of a bandbox just prior 
 to leaving the house; low-cut vest, white tie and a 
 large (imitation) diamond stud in front; some- 
 times, on rare occasions, a silk hat covered his 
 head. Observing from his actions, and his talk, 
 we learned that he was very much impressed with 
 a certain young lady whom he had seen at a public 
 gathering, and we resolved to have him the main 
 performer in a practical joke. 
 
 It was the custom in that town for about half 
 of the citizens to go to the post-office near six 
 o'clock in the evening, to look at their boxes, or 
 worry the post-master by asking for a letter which 
 they had no hope or real expectation of getting. 
 The young ladies of the town took a very active 
 part in this part of the program. Our plan was, 
 to write Sam a letter in a fine hand, describe how 
 she would be dressed, and sign a ficticious name, 
 advising him that she would meet him at the post- 
 office, about six p. m., on a certain date. 
 
 About six p. m., on the date mentioned in the 
 letter, Timothy and I walked around by the post- 
 office, and who should \ve see standing there but 
 Sam, dressed in his best, and sizing up, from head 
 to foot, every person that entered the office. We 
 quizzed him with all sorts of questions, and kept 
 him in such a state of excitement that I doubt if 
 he would have known his mother, had she passed 
 in. Soon, he began to wear an uneasy look, and 
 kept growing more and more impatient; such a 
 state of affairs existed until about seven o'clock,
 
 154- THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 when he gave up in despair and went home. This 
 was huge fun for us, -but for poor Sam, judging 
 from the disgusted look which the back of his neck 
 wore as he meandered down the street, it was far 
 from being a pleasant evening. 
 
 While Timothy was a fine fellow, he had some 
 failings which occasionally got him into trouble: 
 one was, he would never arise in the morning 
 until the extreme eleventh hour. Our pla. 
 sleeping was located about five blocks from the 
 hotel where we were boarding, four blocks of the 
 distance being on the principal street of the town. 
 One cold morning, Timothy delayed action in 
 arising until after I had been out for some time; 
 finally, realizing that it had reached the ppint 
 where it was a case of necessity, he arose, arranged 
 his wardrobe hastily, or pretended to at least, 
 and rushed down the street at no slow pace. To 
 the pedestrians who were on the street it \\a^ 
 rather a unique sight, for in his haste he had for- 
 gotten to fasten but one of those articles used to 
 keep the trousers from falling off, commonly 
 calles suspenders. This poor suspender was for- 
 gotten entirely, and was now hanging head down- 
 ward, below his coat. One can well imagine the 
 sight it presented as he moved rapidly down the 
 street, and he did not discover the mistake until 
 after he had marched into the hotel and was in- 
 formed by one of the porters that some of his 
 wearing paraphernalia needed adjustment.
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 155. 
 
 After we had inhabited the place for two or 
 three months, our acquaintances began to grow, 
 and early in the Spring we attended a little social 
 gathering, where we met a number of new faces, 
 some of which attracted more or less attention 
 from us; one of them, in particular, attracted 
 more than usual observation from me, as will be 
 seen later on. Miss Missionary, for as such we 
 call her, was somewhat out of the ordinary in 
 looks, and, as experience taught me afterwards, 
 in actions; her education had never been neglect- 
 ed, however, having been educated in a private 
 school; morally, she was almost perfection; but 
 the secret of it was, she was the pet of the family. 
 
 Timothy had a fashion of sitting around the 
 room, in the evening, with a sort of a far away, mel- 
 ancholy look about his face, that caused me to think 
 he was allowing his mind to meander over by-gone 
 days, or else he was thinking of some one left behind 
 in Gentleburg. My persisting quizzing failed to 
 bring forth any particular light on the subject, yet 
 my suspicions were aroused to such an extent that I 
 began to fear I would be left a widower in a short 
 time, and through a friend in Gentleburg, I gained 
 such information that enabled me to corner Tim- 
 othy and force him to confess. It was like a 
 thunder shock to me when he informed me he was 
 to join the benedicts in the coming June. This 
 information was imparted to me in April, and it 
 was not received with any degree of pleasure. My 
 association had thus far been almost wholly with
 
 156. THE STEKOGRAPRER 
 
 Timothy, and from a social standpoint the out- 
 look would not, from the then present appearance, 
 be very flattering. There were two months left 
 yet, and I resolved to make the best of that time, 
 and did. 
 
 Among other things in which he was careless, 
 was the handling of money. At times, every cent 
 he had in his pocket would be piled upon the ta- 
 ble and allowed to remain there until morning. 
 Repeatedly cautioning him proved to be fruitless, 
 a so I resolved to avail myself of the first opportu- 
 nity to teach him a lesson. One day, after re- 
 ceiving our pay at the office, about the middle of 
 the afternoon, I went into the room where he was, 
 and while talking to him, observed that his pay 
 check for the month was hanging on a small bill- 
 hook on the wall. It certainly was a very care- 
 less way of handling such documents, yet there 
 was no special danger. On mentioning the fact 
 to him it only brought forth a laugh on his part, 
 which but acted as an impetus to push me on in 
 my scheme. In about half an hour I again vis- 
 ited the room, and the check was still hanging 
 there. I went around behind him, and was talk- 
 ing about something on the desk before him, 
 which of course attracted his eyes in that direc- 
 tion. I was then standing between him and the 
 check, which enabled me to easily slip it off the 
 hook and drop it on the floor, and with one foot 
 push it under the desk. Then, in a jovial man- 
 ner, I went around to the other side of the desk
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 157. 
 
 and sat down, all the time keeping up a conversa- 
 tion, and at the same time keeping my foot at 
 work until the coveted document was entirely on 
 my side of the desk, when, stooping over, I picked 
 it up and slipped it into my pocket. At this time 
 I had no intention of allowing the matter to grow 
 as serious as it afterwards did. He forgot all 
 about his check until after he had taken supper 
 and retired to the room, then the thought came to 
 him with vengeance. He did not say anything, 
 but looked like a convicted train robber, and in a 
 mild sort of way, said he guessed he would go 
 down to the office a little while. It dawned upon 
 me at once that he had remembered the check, 
 but the matter had gone so far there could be no 
 harm in allowing it to go a little further, so I 
 allowed him to go without giving him any satis- 
 faction. He went to the office, and just as he 
 was going into the room where he worked, he met 
 one of the boys, of not a very excellent charac- 
 ter, coming out of the room. Imagination caused 
 him to think the fellow looked sneaking and 
 guilty. I went down another street, and after 
 waiting for some minutes, started over to the office 
 just in time to see him coming out, in somewhat 
 of a rage. He explained about the check, with- 
 out hesitation, and of course I was perfectly 
 astonished. He then related about meeting the 
 fellow with a sneaking look, and was quite posi- 
 tive that fellow had the check. After some per- 
 suasion, I prevailed upon him to return to the
 
 158. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 office with me, and we would take another look. 
 We did so, and every scrap of paper, book, and 
 everything else in the office was turned over from 
 one to four times, but the search was in vain. The 
 blood in Timothy's veins now began to become a 
 little tropical, and nothing short of a round-up 
 with the fellow he had met coming from the office, 
 would be any balm for his wounds. 
 
 The large stores in town had a custom of allow 
 ing any one to purchase a small bill of goods, and 
 in payment allow them to present their check and 
 have it cashed. In this way, there was a slight 
 danger of the finder getting money on Timothy's 
 check, but the chances were only one in a hun- 
 dred. My argument was, however, to try and 
 convince him that any of the stores in town would 
 cash it on presentation, if properly endorsed, and 
 that this fellow could sell it to some bum, and al- 
 low the bum to cash it and leave town. He final- 
 ly believed this to be about straight, and marched 
 directly to the hotel to lay the guilty man out. 
 The fellow he was after was playing billiards at the 
 time, and Timothy watched him for some time with 
 an eagle eye; and while to him he looked actually 
 guilty, what could he do and how could he prove 
 it. He watched him for half an hour; then de- 
 cided there was no use, and we started back to 
 the room. We had only gone a block or two, 
 when the thought of advertising it in the morning 
 paper dawned upon him, and was so firmly fixed, 
 he would not give it up. It was now about ten
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 159. 
 
 o'clock, and he had been kept in this worried 
 condition for about two hours, which should have 
 been enough to satisfy me, but it did not. Every 
 effort on my part was exhausted trying to get him 
 to give up the idea of mentioning the theft to the 
 newspaper men, but he would advertise it or die 
 on the spot, so there was nothing to do but to 
 tell him. It would never do to have it adver- 
 tised; this was going too far, so I told him. To 
 say that he was mad, offers but a poor explana- 
 tion of his condition; he was going to completely 
 obliterate me off the face of the earth at once, 
 without further preliminaries, but the street was 
 broad, and I took advantage of that. I did not get 
 close to him until after he was asleep, and the next 
 morning he was all right, only one thing, and that 
 was, that I did not give it away among the boys 
 at the office, which promise was made and after- 
 wards kept. 
 
 He was like most other fellows when pierced by 
 cupid's dart, he was boyish, and would go to Gen- 
 tleburg at every opportunity. Although the space 
 intervening was over two hundred miles, he did 
 not appear to mind the distance at all. One week 
 before the occurrence which inaugurated him as 
 a benedict took place, he went up there and re- 
 mained two days, and while there, as a sort of a 
 foretaste of what was to follow, he procured the 
 license, and came back with an important air, 
 carrying the precious document. He placed it in 
 the archives of his trunk and allowed it to rest
 
 160. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 there during the day, but would feast his wistful 
 eyes on the same in the evening. When the week 
 was up, he was very much excited, and in his 
 rush to get started, took only what he thought of 
 first. After he had been gone a few hours, I re- 
 ceived a message from him, stating that he had 
 forgotten that all-important document, and for 
 me to bring it up, as I was intending to go to Gen- 
 tleburg the next day. The poor fellow was wor- 
 ried over the matter, for he did not know whether 
 he could secure another one or not, and, as we 
 may well suppose, it would place him in rather an 
 uneasy and awkward position. Despite all these 
 inconvenient and unpleasant experiences, he seems 
 to be just as careless about such matters as ever. 
 
 He was gone for ten days, and after my return 
 from Gentleburg everything looked as if there had 
 been a funeral at the room. It was so lonesome 
 I could not remain there alone evenings, and in- 
 vested a greater portion of the time at the office. 
 
 In the early part of June, there was a lawn ten- 
 nis club organized in Jolleyville, to consist of 
 twenty members, and, as good fortune would have 
 it, I was invited to be one of the twenty. The 
 invitation was accepted with open arms, and this 
 afterwards proved to be the nucleus for many 
 pleasant hours. The club was to consist of ten 
 gentlemen and ten ladies, its object being for 
 pleasure more than becoming experts at the game, 
 and this being the object, it was a flattering suc- 
 cess. It worked something after this fashion: The
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. l6l. 
 
 club met every night about six, and would play 
 until about eight, sometimes a little later, in other 
 words, just as long as the balls could be seen. 
 Then a general conversation would follow for a 
 few minutes, sometimes longer, but in nine cases 
 out of every ten, the conversation would last until 
 it would be too dark for the gentler portion of 
 the race to seek their several places of abode un- 
 escorted. Of course there was no harm in walk- 
 ing down the street about the same time some of 
 the lady players did, and at the same time act as 
 their "protector." It would take only a few min- 
 utes; but, then, when arriving at the gate, just 
 over on the inside would be a very inviting look- 
 ing hammock, or a large arm chair, the dog 
 chained in his kennel and the old gentleman asleep. 
 Where is the young man with his mind in its nor- 
 mal condition that would whirl on his heel at the 
 gate in the very jaws of such an opportunity? 
 Not here, I assure you, and the consequence was, 
 it would be nine or ten o'clock, and often later, 
 before my humble habitation would be graced 
 with my presence. 
 
 It is one of the peculiarities of human nature, 
 that anything we are successful at, in any kind of 
 sport, or, we might say avocation of life, we take 
 a delight in it; thus it was with tennis. While I 
 never hoped to become an expert, I could hold 
 my own and could do somewhat better than the 
 average in the club. My zeal for the game has
 
 1 62. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 never relaxed very materially either, yet the want 
 of opportunities for playing has caused it to wear 
 off some. 
 
 During all this time I had not forgotten Miss 
 Missionary, and while I endeavored to persuade 
 myself into believing differently, the fact was 
 nevertheless apparent that her appearance on the 
 grounds always caused a queer sensation to come 
 over me. That part of my anatomy which pushes 
 the blood around, commonly termed heart, would 
 perform its functions with a more vicious move- 
 ment, and somehow everything seemed to go along 
 better when she was there. If actions are any in- 
 dication of matters of this kind, she did her part 
 to help the case along somewhat, too. 
 
 Her papa was of the antediluvian type, rather 
 queer, and as cranky as a crocodile. There was 
 one redeeming feature which was largely in my 
 favor, however, that was, he was quite old and 
 sickly, and generally retired early or sought the 
 quietude of his room and would not put in his ap- 
 pearance any more for the evening. Their lawn 
 was so inviting, it would make a pedestrian's 
 mouth water when weary, and on reaching the 
 gate, it took very little solicitation on the part of 
 Miss Missionary to induce me to haul my little 
 feet inside. I have heard it said that a very good 
 plan is first to win the affections of the dog, next 
 the old gentleman and lady, and then the coast is 
 clear. Experience afterwards taught me it was the 
 only way to attack that family, but I thought life
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 163 
 
 was too short, and as long as the dog was chained 
 and the old gentleman remained under cover, I 
 did not worry about which way the wind blew. 
 
 Competition is the life of trade, to be sure, but 
 in some cases too much competition works hard- 
 ships. In the commercial world competition has 
 become almost a necessity, and is doubtless one 
 of the saving features of the human family. It is 
 the strict competition in the boarding house busi- 
 ness that enables the poor stenographer to rush 
 out at noon and get his lunch for twenty cents; 
 fifteen, if times are hard, and ten towards the lat- 
 ter end of the month when he receives his salary 
 in monthly installments; but, as stated above, 
 there is competition that unquestionably does 
 more harm than good. 
 
 About the time I commenced to think the girl 
 and the front yard and the hammock and the arm 
 chair were something entirely out of the ordinary, 
 there was another fellow formed the same opinion 
 of the same outfit. Of all the miserable, compli- 
 cated, disgusting, competitions 'on the face of the 
 earth, such as this, is the worst. It makes a fel- 
 low wish he might have ceased to exist in his 
 youth, and to keep up with the procession and 
 look finer than that other whelp, he will shine his 
 shoes twice a day, shave three or four times a 
 week and change shirts just as often as he can 
 afford it. Then he has got to take her to every- 
 thing that comes along, for if he don't, the other 
 fellow will, and ice cream entertainments, picnics,
 
 164. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 circuses, shows, theatres, livery bill and every- 
 thing in this line has to go. My brother steno, 
 let me drop you a little advice: When you get in 
 this kind of a fix don't try to buy yourself out; I 
 tried that; consequently, other fellows got all the 
 money I hammered glass for. Mr. Spectacles (as 
 that was the name of my competitor in this trans- 
 action) never seemed to have very good sense 
 (perhaps he thought the same of me), but, never- 
 theless, he kept grasping every opportunity, which 
 was only semi-occasionally, as he valued money 
 more than did I. Another place where he always 
 wore the winning badge, and that was, he was a 
 member of "our Sunday school" which I was not. 
 
 There was a member of the tennis club who, 
 on account of his peculiar stature, was known as 
 "Shorty." His hair was just about as red as it is 
 possible for hair to be, and he was as comical as 
 he was little. During the summer the burglar? be- 
 came very numerous in Jolleyville, and it was al- 
 most a nightly occurrence for some of the villagers 
 to have their houses plundered. It happened also 
 that Shorty was a stenographer, which caused me 
 to have a friendly feeling toward him. 
 
 One eventful evening, the house where Shorty 
 stopped was entered and many articles of his 
 wearing apparel was confiscated by the klepno- 
 manial abstraction. Among other things was a 
 pair of socks. As would naturally follow, the 
 club sympathized with him, and in a quiet man- 
 ner a subscription paper was circulated with the
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 165. 
 
 express purpose of buying a pair of socks. The 
 subscription was quite liberal, and an elegant pair 
 of the nether garment was purchased, but the 
 color was loud and flashy. A special meeting of 
 the club was called, and after dispensing with nec- 
 essary business, a presentation speech was made, 
 in which Shorty was presented with the half-hose, 
 in behalf of the society. This was the first knowl- 
 edge he had of anything of the kind being on foot, 
 and he drew up until he looked like but a kid. 
 
 Shorty was a first-class stenographer, and one of 
 the many feats he performed, acting in that capac- 
 ity was to read the notes of Mr. Jones, one of his 
 dictators. Mr. Jones had formerly been a steno- 
 grapher and they both wrote the same system. 
 Mr. J. would sometimes take work to his home 
 and would write the letters out in shorthand and 
 the 'next morning Shorty would transcribe the 
 notes without difficulty. This was somewhat mar- 
 velous to me, as it was all that I could do to read 
 my own notes, and that when they were fresh and 
 juicy; after they were a little cold and congealed 
 it was extremely uphill work, and after real cold, 
 an impossibility 
 
 By the middle of Summer, the work had be- 
 come so familiar to me, and my dictators were 
 not quite so rapid, or so I thought, at least, and 
 the miserable sieges that had been experienced by 
 me in the beginning now became more easy, and 
 sometimes two or three weeks would pass without 
 any serious trouble, then the one who had given
 
 I 66. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 me so much trouble all along, the chief clerk, 
 would be angry when he commenced to dictate, 
 and trouble would invariably follow, and does to 
 this day, for it is an impossibility for me to cope 
 with the circumstances on such occasions.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 CIRCUMSTANCES SUCH, A HEALTHY REALIZATION 
 
 FOLLOWS THAT A STENOGRAPHER 
 
 IS NOT A MACHINE. 
 
 Timothy's joining the benedicts broke the bands 
 that had bound him, Sam and me together, and from 
 that time we gradually drifted apart in a social 
 way. Sara fell in with a very nice family, took 
 up his abode there, and afterwards married the 
 fair damsel of the place. Whether he was for- 
 tunate or not, time alone will answer. In his 
 estimation he had captured a pri/.e, as most peo- 
 ple imagine they have when first married, but in 
 many cases the gold soon wears off. 
 
 Soon after Timothy left me, I changed my place 
 of abode, and fell in with a very nice looking 
 young man from the East. Here, I tried my hand 
 as a reformationist. This young man had been 
 well raised, and from his appearance and man- 
 ners it was evident he came from a good family, 
 but, like many other boys, he had been spoiled 
 entirely. He was a first-class man at his business, 
 shoe salesman, and had few equals; but he had no 
 more judgment with money than a child; besides 
 this, he was inclined to sport, keep late hours,
 
 I 68. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 and became altogether disgusting ere I was through 
 with him. He would receive letters from his 
 mother requesting him to be a good boy, and 
 then he would turn over a new leaf and come 
 home, may be for one evening, early, possibly 
 two, then it would all wear off. When leaving 
 the house, he always looked as if he might be 
 going out to have a picture taken. For several 
 months my efforts at reformation went on, until 
 finally I had to slip him out of town on a mid- 
 night train in order to keep his creditors off of 
 him. He was in debt on every corner; drug men. 
 hotel men, shoe men, dry goods men, tailors, and 
 even whiskey men mourned his departure. The 
 fact was, the longer I worked with him it seemed 
 the tougher he got, and it was a relief to get him 
 off my hands, for at the rate I was reforming 
 him, I was afraid he would soon become a des- 
 perado. He secured a place a few hundred miles 
 further west, and last heard from him, he was 
 doing well, or at least so the story went. 
 
 Early in the fall of this year, I formed the ac- 
 quaintance of Mr. Vermont, another gentleman 
 from the East, who was principal of the high 
 school in Jolleyville. Afterwards our associations 
 grew to be very intimate. As there was a vacancy 
 in the tennis club, he was chosen to fill said place. 
 
 Mr. Vermont was of very light complexion, and 
 in female attire, with a wig, would have passed 
 very nicely for a lady, had it not been for a few 
 stragling, red, fuzzy hairs on his upper lip. His
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS 169. 
 
 education was quite complete, and fully covered 
 his defects in looks, and he performed his duties 
 as principal in a very credible manner. He had 
 a failing for the opposite sex which hindered his 
 progress somewhat, as his first assistant was a 
 lady, and remarks were soon afloat in the school 
 that he was using entirely too much time in con- 
 sultation with his first assistant. Such matters are 
 always largely overdrawn, but that this was bad 
 enough, there is no question. He was always a 
 warm friend to me, and it was anything but pleas- 
 ant to have to part with him about a year later, 
 when he returned to the East. His welcome let- 
 ters are regular visitors, however. 
 
 All through the Summer and early Fall, few days 
 passed that I did not see Miss Missionary, and all 
 the time, that which the most learned of our land 
 have never been able to explain, was slowly but 
 surely closing its icy grasp upon me. There was 
 a sense of satisfaction in going down the street 
 about the same time she did, that could never be 
 explained by me. That lawn seemed finer and 
 more pleasant than any in town; in short, our ac- 
 quaintance was ripening fully as rapidly as it does 
 in most cases of a similar character, and all are, 
 perhaps, aware of how rapid that is. 
 
 All this time, however, there was a cloud rising 
 in the background that I was entirely ignorant of; 
 the old man's anger was ripening about two paces 
 to our acquaintanceship's one. I thought it strange 
 that he was never around any more, but went
 
 170. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 blindly on, regardless of the approaching storm. 
 Mr. Spectacles was the Reverend's right hand man 
 and a regular wheel horse in "our Sunday school," 
 and was continually entwining laurels around the 
 old gentleman's' affections and the piece of meat in 
 his breast where most men have a heart. I don't 
 think the old fellow had any heart at all; if he had, 
 it had long since become ossified. The house 
 was of a very ancient style and had probably 
 stood on its present foundation for twenty years at 
 least; the furniture was rich, but very old-fash- 
 ioned, as was also the pictures that graced the 
 walls; but here the heartless individual invested 
 his time brooding over thoughts of, I don't know 
 what. I am convinced of one fact, however, that 
 when our humble frame flitted across his musty 
 thoughts, anything but a pleasant sensation crept 
 over him. Despite the old gentleman's efforts, 
 the fact was evident that slowly but surely I was 
 gaining ground on Mr. Spectacles, my visits were 
 much more frequent than his, and on the more 
 particular occasions when anything special came 
 to town, I always called on Miss Missionary. 
 "What fools we mortals be." All those hard 
 earned dollars and shining quarters went like they 
 were to be picked from trees. 
 
 It is said that the rising generation may profit 
 by the experiences of others, and thus save them 
 from falling into many pits their fathers have wor- 
 ried through, but this is one of the pathways of 
 life that nearly every man wanders' through, re-
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 171. 
 
 gardless of the advice he may have received or 
 may receive at the time. 
 
 Timothy and his wife, by accident took up their 
 abode just across the street from Miss Mission- 
 ary's, and the first opportunity possible was em- 
 braced by me in having them become acquainted. 
 She seemed to like to visit at Timothy's, and so 
 did I, consequently we reaped much pleasant re- 
 venge on the old gentleman, to my ignorance, 
 however, as I was not yet aware of the brewing 
 trouble or approaching catastrophe. 
 
 In the Fall, the work at the office was so under 
 control that it rarely ever required my presence at 
 night, and from two to four nights in the week 
 found me at the wonderful mansion. The fre- 
 quency of the visits was partially brought about 
 by the desire for her company, and partly to be 
 sure Mr. Spectacles was not there. Of course 
 every time I would go, he would be wrathy, and 
 when he would go, vice versa. How strange it 
 was; the town was brim full of the fair sex, and 
 yet when one of us went with Miss Missionary to 
 some public gathering, the other one always went 
 alone; this, however, very rarely happened, as we 
 generally ascertained beforehand, and the other 
 fellow would ostensibly be sick on that occasion, 
 or be too busy to go, when in reality he would be 
 at home, prancing up and down the room, doing 
 something else besides singing Sunday school 
 songs; or, at least, my part of it was performed 
 that way, and, from the disgusted look he
 
 I 72- THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 would have on his face when we would accident- 
 ally meet on the street, I am confident his was 
 the same. One night, we were at a little gather- 
 ing, when he wished to speak to me privately. We 
 went out into the yard and dropped into the ham- 
 mock together. He introduced the rivalry sub- 
 ject without any very fancy preliminary remarks, 
 and we were both stubborn and contrary. An 
 aggravated coal or railway strike would have been 
 easily brought to a reconciliation when compared 
 with that conversation. He said he had been in 
 a number of similar circumstances before, and 
 had always come out ahead, and I said I had, 
 too. But both could make such statements with 
 ill grace, or we would not be wanting another girl 
 now. I knew I was lying, and am pretty sure he 
 was, but, as all is fair in charity and war, I guess 
 there was no harm done. We remained there in 
 the hammock as long as it was either pleasant or 
 safe, and then went back to the house, each with 
 his mind made up to come out victorious, or die 
 in the struggle. 
 
 Talk about competition! If such competition is 
 not a curse to mankind, I don't know where you 
 will find it. About this time, the Americanism in 
 me had arisen to such a point that, when we 
 reached home, I told her I had concluded to with- 
 draw from the race, and perhaps would go on 
 farther west and invest the remainder of my mis- 
 erable life in abstracting the life-giving blood of 
 Indians and wild animals, in chasing the buffalo,
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 173. 
 
 etc.; got a little romantic, as it were. She cried, 
 and I went home with the understanding that a 
 final decision was to be reached a few evenings 
 afterwards, when I was to call. What an exam- 
 ple of "men are but boys grown tall." I was 
 frightened to death, for fear she would take 'me at 
 my word and allow me to go, and could hardly await 
 the appointed meeting. The trouble was patched 
 up very nicely, and it was several weeks before the 
 matter was brought to a focus; however, one even- 
 ing the affair culminated rather abruptly. I pre- 
 sume she had been reading considerable romance, 
 and was under the impression that the only proper 
 way to wind up such a case, was for her to faint, 
 and she commenced to perform in that manner. 
 The circumstances were anything but pleasant, 
 for to have called the folks and have the old man 
 come in, would have been worse than meeting a 
 cyclone on the prairie; but, as romance always 
 runs, she regained her consciousness in about the 
 right time, and we patched things up a little, with 
 the understanding that I was to call again as soon 
 as convenient, to further the patching. Before 
 that evening arrived, the old gentleman drew the 
 line, and I was forbid placing my tiny feet on his 
 sod henceforth. 
 
 If there is ever a time when a stenographer 
 comes to the conclusion that he is something more 
 than a machine, it is in a case of this kind. If 
 he has any feeling at all, it is sure to make itself 
 manifest under these surroundings. There was
 
 174- TIIE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 nothing to do but treat the old gentleman with 
 silent contempt, whip Mr. Spectacles and tell the 
 girl good bye. The first was easily performed, 
 but the second and third were different; the sec- 
 ond I did not wish to do, and the third I did not 
 propose to do. One thing was certain, until the 
 quarantine was lifted, my feet could never tread the 
 sacred soil of his lawn any more, and an attempt at 
 such, would have perhaps culminated in my hav- 
 ing to scale the fence with a dog of the abbrevi- 
 ated appendage immediately in the rear, or have 
 taken up my exit at the business end of a shot- 
 gun, neither of which I felt inclined to do. 
 
 After doing some tall, masterly thinking, I 
 wrote Miss Missionary a letter that would have 
 touched the heart of the sturdy oak, and directed 
 it more particularly to the old gentleman, who 
 must be respected by me under the laws of cour- 
 tesy to the aged. After this, I turned my back 
 upon the whole affair, resolved never to cross the 
 threshold of any other female as long as I lived, 
 rustled up some of the boys and organized a bach- 
 elor's club and resolved to so live and die. The 
 rules of the club were strict; no one was allowed 
 to walk down the street with a young lady without 
 the 'permission of the president in writing, and 
 three visits to any one young lady in a week, even 
 by consent of the president, the guilty party was 
 to give an itemized account of their conversation. 
 Our resolutions were good and deep founded, but 
 as brittle as an egg shell. Hardly a week had
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 17-5. 
 
 rolled away when I received a very courteous in- 
 vitation from Miss Missionary, to call on her, 
 stating the coast was clear, and that peace would 
 reign supreme. 
 
 How she ever managed to curb the old gentle- 
 man's temper, I have never been able to learn, 
 but it is needless to say that the invitation was 
 answered without the least degree of reluctance. 
 There was, however, a very heavy shadow of 
 doubt in my mind as to what it all meant. Was 
 it possible that the ossified piece of meat in the 
 antique gentleman's breast had softened towards 
 me, or was it a means of decoy to get me over 
 there, and then have him pour out his wrath upon 
 me? Thought kept suggesting the latter, but un- 
 der the circumstances a fellow could almost have 
 faced the king of the lower regions rather than 
 have given up in despair. 
 
 I went, and the means used by her to pave the 
 way for my visit, is as much of a mystery to me 
 to-day as it was then, as he never spoke to me 
 again except in a case of emergency, and then his 
 words, were spit out in such a manner as to cause 
 the cold chills to creep over me. 
 
 Often and often have I looked for a small boy 
 to kick me for ever'accepting that invitation, but, 
 under the somewhat romantic circumstances, and 
 the blissful anticipation* of bothering old Specks 
 a little more, it seemed neither the earth below 
 nor the heavens above lent assistance sufficient to 
 keep me from yielding to the temptation.
 
 176. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 I gave the bachelor club the slip the evening 
 when accepting the, what then appeared the very 
 gracious invitation. They never learned but what I 
 was at home on that date, and every precaution 
 on my part was taken to keep them in such bliss- 
 ful ignorance. The boys were very unruly, and 
 it kept court in session most every evening, for a 
 time, at least, until they became reconciled to 
 their fate, then we got down to business, re- 
 organized a German class, and before Spring we 
 were pretty fair Dutchmen. During this time, 
 the permit business was often outrageously abused. 
 
 The ladies becoming acquainted with the na- 
 ture of our club, decided to organize one of their 
 own, which they did, and instead of our accom- 
 plishing the purpose for which we were organized, 
 it worked right the reverse. The joint sessions of 
 the club were very frequent, and banquets given 
 periodically. At the close of the year, we gave 
 them a very unique banquet, which proved some- 
 what interesting, and for a time entertaining. Our 
 invitations read, "Light refreshments served by 
 our own skilled hands." On the evening of the 
 festive occasion oysters were cooked, in order to 
 have the room highly flavored, and candles were 
 so promiscuous that the room was so light it daz- 
 zled the eye; when in full blast, the ladies were 
 escorted to the dining-'room. The refreshments 
 were extremely meagre, but the numerous candles 
 caused what little there was, to be fully up to the 
 expectations, light.
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 177. 
 
 In a short time, the ladies gave a banquet which 
 so discounted ours, that we quit the business; and, 
 to make a bad matter worse, a union of the clubs 
 was formed. The rest of the story need not be 
 told; the object of the formation of the club was 
 most unmercifully trampled under foot. 
 
 Sam took an extended trip when he was first 
 married, and while he was away my poor machine 
 ground out his allotment of letters. My office 
 hours during his absence were almost without be- 
 ginning or end; about eighteen per day. It was 
 at this time I made my highest record on the type- 
 writer, writing one hundred and ninety letters be- 
 tween times of sleeping. They were of a good, 
 fair average, but the mill had my undivided at- 
 tention the entire time except while endeavoring 
 to allow the other fellows' thoughts drip off the end 
 of my pen onto the paper in hieroglyphics, which 
 afterwards I was presumed to transcribe, and 
 which really I did, partially so. On one occasion 
 I wrote one hundred and ninety letters between 
 times of sleeping, that is, between 8:30 a. m. and 
 11:59^ p. m. I was so miserably weary that even- 
 ing that glory had no temptation or inducement 
 in store for me, or I should certainly have written 
 the other ten. It was a pity I did not, but when 
 the girl said, after having walked all day, "she 
 would not take another step to see into heaven," 
 so I felt that night; I would not write another let- 
 ter for love or money; but, of course, if the right 
 kind of one, or large enough amount of the other,
 
 178. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 had been at stake, perhaps I might have worried 
 through with a few more. 
 
 All through the early Fall, after the old gentle- 
 man lifted the quarantine, my graceful form wend- 
 ed its way to that beautiful yard, and after the 
 evenings became too cool to occupy the ham- 
 mock, we sat and gazed into the parlor grate, 
 where the bright fire sparkled, all the time cupid 
 getting in his deadly work on me, and at the same 
 time the master of ceremonies of the lower regions 
 getting in his work on the antique gentleman. The 
 Fall days wore into winter, and on the cold win- 
 ter evenings, with my body wrapped in a heavy 
 overcoat, my tracks left their imprint on the beau- 
 tiful snow as they bore me toward the attractive 
 habitation. What did it all mean? What could it 
 mean? We had both positively agreed we were 
 nothing but friends; but, ah, my stenographic 
 brethren, beware! the mysteries of human nature 
 are deep and extremely phenomenal. It is like 
 taking the first drink; you drift down the pleas- 
 ant pathway, and before you realize you have 
 made a mis-step, or that you are on the wrong 
 road, you are on a precipice from which it is hard 
 to escape. 
 
 The old gentleman was rarely ever mentioned, 
 and when he was, it was usually brought about by 
 me, and it never failed to bring forth such a pecu- 
 liar look from her, that for fear of something ter- 
 rible happening, the subject would be immediately 
 diverted to more pleasant themes. I began to
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. I^g. 
 
 think, what kind of a fellow is he; my acquaint- 
 ance with him had been extremely limited; all I 
 ever knew him to do, was to kick and go to church. 
 When on the streets, he always looked as though 
 he had no friends on earth, and few on the other 
 side, and that he hated all humanity, including 
 his dog. This, I might add, was the appearance 
 from a distance, as my agitated feelings for the 
 beloved would never allow me to scrutinize him 
 very minutely at short range. He seemed to me 
 to be one of the kind of men we read about, lived 
 but to die. If he ever got any enjoyment out of 
 life, it must have been in making trouble for oth- 
 ers. However, Miss Missionary thought he was 
 about right; of course it is to be presumed that 
 she knew him better than I did, but if such were 
 her deep grounded conclusions of him, she had 
 unquestionably known him in brighter days. His 
 means had very probably been secured in any way 
 possible, and possibly some unjust act of his past 
 life was praying on his mind and kept him in 
 this state. 
 
 The main attraction of the family, and the one 
 who was the direct cause of my frequent visits in 
 that direction, had a peculiarity which is quite 
 common among certain classes, and that was, her 
 great desire to perform some sort of missionary 
 work. Some distant relative had been instru- 
 mental in founding a missionary school in Alaska, 
 and this, together with the reading of literature 
 along this line, had a tendency to incite such a
 
 l8o. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 spirit within her. It seemed strange to me how 
 she could love those little heathens in distant 
 lands with such an arduous love, and at the same 
 time detest the semi-clothed African descendants 
 in her own town. Strange as it may appear, such 
 was the case, and every Christmas she would work 
 for weeks, preparing presents to ship to those 
 Alaskians. In this, her intentions were unques- 
 tionably good, and she, perhaps, made many of 
 those little chaps happy at Christmas time. Such 
 a spirit is, to a certain extent, a credit to anyone, 
 and if properly exercised, a commendable feature. 
 Mr. Spectacles succeeded in getting the Reverend 
 gentleman entirely under his control. How he man- 
 aged it, was never made known to me, but in the 
 very middle of the winter, when everything was 
 going on merrily as a marriage bell, he suddenly 
 broke forth with all his terror, and put his foot on 
 me for the final trip. He who laughs last laughs 
 best, no doubt thought Mr. Spectacles, for he had 
 been decidedly on the shady side of life for some 
 months, but now, how that conversation we had 
 in the hammock some months before, did grind 
 on me and hum in my ears. There was but one 
 thing now left to do, and that was, act the man 
 and die gracefully. Friends thought it rather 
 strange that the heretofore warm friendship that 
 had existed, or presumably so, at least, between 
 me and the Missionary family, had come to so 
 sudden a demise. The old gentleman knew, and 
 I was not entirely ignorant of the cause.
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. l8l. 
 
 The best of friends must part; so it was with 
 the antique Reverend and myself. I have never 
 crossed his path since, but I certainly thought at 
 the time, if he did not increase the. fuel bill in the 
 lower regions, when he took up his departure to 
 dwell on the other shore, I would miss my guess. 
 
 Severing the bands of friendship between Miss 
 Missionary and myself, were of a very different 
 nature, and of such a character as not to warrant 
 a reiteration here, but suffice it to say, it left such 
 an impression in the archives of my memory's 
 storehouse, that it will probably occupy until the 
 bugle calls me hence. Had the earth opened and 
 swallowed her up, it would have been but little 
 difference to me, as circumstances were shortly 
 such, that I was called from the place, and have 
 never seen her since, and only indirectly heard 
 from her once or twice. After being called away 
 from the town, and thrown among strangers, the 
 associations of the past would at times prey upon 
 my mind in anything but a comfortable manner, 
 and, regardless of what circumstances may be in 
 such cases, there is always a sanguine feeling, 
 though it may be in the face of the most unfortu- 
 nate and darkest fate.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 NEW HOME AND NEW SURROUNDINGS PARTI NI; 
 
 WITH FRIENDS BUT THE INEVITABLE 
 FATE OF A STENOGRAPHER. 
 
 Parting with the many friends in Jolleyville was 
 anything but an easy task. To think those scenes 
 that had afforded me so many pleasant occasions, 
 must be left in the back-ground, old faces to be 
 forgotten and new friendships formed, presented 
 to me anything but a pleasant thought. Being 
 again tossed about on the billows of life's great 
 ocean, among strangers, would not have been 
 taken by me as a matter of choice. Such, how- 
 ever, is the inevitable fate of a stenographer; he 
 must go where duty calls, and duty calls where 
 the most bread can be earned by the sweat of the 
 brow, and for me to do this, it called me a few 
 hundred miles East, into a much, larger place 
 than Jolleyville. 
 
 Upon reaching the place that was to be my 
 future habitation, some of the old feelings that 
 had taken possession of me on former occasions, 
 such as when I first planted my weary feet on the 
 shores of Butchertown, took possession of " me 
 again, but having encountered some of the expe-
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 183. 
 
 riences of life, I was much better prepared to en- 
 counter such difficulties, and I soon became recon- 
 ciled to the rulings of merciless fate. 
 
 The winter just previously referred to, was '92-3, 
 and while circumstances were transpiring in rapid 
 succession, it crossed the mind of some intelligent 
 being in Jolleyville, to form a club for the pur- 
 pose of endeavoring to learn something of what 
 was to be placed on exhibition at the World's 
 Fair, which was to open the following June. This 
 club was duly formed, and on the list of mem- 
 bers my name appeared. 
 
 The meetings of this club proved not only very 
 interesting, but at the same time beneficial, and 
 many hot discussions often followed; especially 
 was this the case in regard to the Sunday opening 
 question. 
 
 On one occasion, with a view of ascertaining 
 how the various imaginations would differ, it was 
 voted that each member make a guess as to the 
 probable number in attendance at the Fair on the 
 first day of June, the one coming closest to the 
 number to receive a Columbian half dollar from 
 the club. The guesses were all securely sealed, 
 and a few weeks after leaving there, my surprise 
 may well be imagined, when receiving the much 
 coveted half dollar, together with a letter of con- 
 gratulations from the club. 
 
 Among the rules of the club was one to the 
 effect that all those visiting the fair, should, upon 
 their return, give before the club an account of
 
 184- THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 their trip, and incidents pertaining thereto, and 
 in case any member should fail to return, he was 
 to send a written report. As my lot was cast in 
 other climes before attending the Fair, the follow- 
 ing is a brief account of my visit: 
 
 "As I signed the iron-clad constitution of the 
 Jolleyville Fair club last Spring, thus binding my- 
 self to give a free-handed account of my visit to the 
 Fair, I, of course, went, under the impression that 
 I would be called upon to make such a report upon 
 my return; hence, to have a clear conscience, it 
 will be necessary for me to give you a brief out- 
 line of my quiet and uneventful visit. 
 
 After planning for a couple of months for a visit 
 to that much coveted spot, casting anchor on a 
 number of dates on which I would start, and be- 
 ing disappointed an equal number of times, I final- 
 ly placed the anchor on the fifteenth day of Oct- 
 tober and commenced to make arrangements and 
 preparations to start on that date. 
 
 Like a country boy on the eve of a circus, I 
 was quite restless on Saturday night, October 
 1 4th, but on Sunday morning I arose without be- 
 ing called more than once or twice, pushed my- 
 self into my store clothes, partook of a brief re- 
 past, and started for the depot. On arriving at 
 the depot I found quite a number of people who 
 all seemed to be "going some place" from the 
 way they were crowding around. I said nothing 
 to anybody for some time, but finally siding up to 
 a fellow with a cap on, asked him what time the
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 185. 
 
 train would start. As trains were leaving in more 
 than one direction and on more than one road he 
 could not give me much satisfaction. I then 
 stood still for a small period of time, until a 
 large man with a hat on said, "This train for 
 Chicago." The idea at once flashed across my 
 mind that he was the fellow I had been looking 
 for, so I gathered myself up and scrambled into 
 the car, with the rest of the fellows, the fellows' 
 wives and their various and sundry children, 
 every fellow rustling for himself, and the conduct- 
 or after us all. (Before getting through with the 
 Fair I found this was but a foretaste of what was 
 to follow.) 
 
 After the conductor had, as is usual on a train 
 leaving a large town where a number of trains 
 leave about the same time, pulled off about half a 
 dozen that were "on the wrong train" and 
 hollered "all aboard" once or twice, I and the 
 train started for Chicago. We had not traveled 
 many miles when we shot into a long, deep, dark, 
 dismal tunnel, and when I thought of the terrible 
 mass of material, metal, stone, etc., above us, I 
 began to think about the time I had stolen the 
 peaches, and various other little mishaps and un- 
 just acts of boyhood, and also a few of more 
 modern date. The thought of how matters were 
 situated on "the other shore," pressed upon my 
 mind as it had seldom done before. The smoke 
 was coming into the car so thick and fast the people
 
 I 86. THE STENOGRAPH KR 
 
 commenced to cough, but as every cloud has a 
 silvery lining, so it was with this, and after a short 
 time we again saw day. 
 
 Soon after I got into the train at the depot, a 
 young fellow that I have a slight acquaintance 
 with, walked into the car and took the. seat direct- 
 ly in front of me. He was a sort of an apology 
 for a dude, but as green as a last summer's squash, 
 and to say that his actions were amusing, is plac- 
 ing it mildly. 
 
 Nothing of importance took place, except eat- 
 ing, until we reached the town for which we had 
 set sail, a trip of several hundred miles. It was 
 in the evening when we reached the town and 
 quite dark, neither of us having been there before 
 and Mr. Squash very timid in a strange town. 
 'He, like me, knew his number, nothing more. 
 After placing our feet on terra firma, we started 
 up town, and while I insisted on waiting until we 
 got up into town before making inquiry about our 
 place of stopping, Mr. Squash could not wait, but 
 marched up to a "Dago" candy stand and en- 
 quired for his number. The position assumed by 
 Mr. Squash as he viewed the stuttering Dago over 
 his glasses, can well be imagined. Of course no 
 information was gained from him of any value, 
 and after escorting Mr. S. one more block I 
 courteously bid him goodnight. 
 
 Even though it was getting rather late in the 
 evening, the street on which I was meandering 
 was very crowded, and there were thousands of
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 187. 
 
 fellows like myself lost. I asked a man, with a 
 hat on, about where my number was, and he 
 pointed out the direction, and told me by going 
 several blocks in that direction I would find a 
 street car leading out toward the place I desired 
 to go. 
 
 My neglected appetite began to haunt me about 
 this time so I went into a place to get supper. 
 I dined, if such it might be called, came out 
 and walked, and walked and walked, and after 
 such action for about half an hour, much to 
 my surprise, came right ca-smack up to the depot 
 where I had unloaded myself. Discouraging 
 as this may appear it enabled me to get my 
 bearings again and I once more started for the 
 car line; got quite close to the place where I was 
 to take the car, but on crossing the street in front 
 of the Tribune building, there was so much con- 
 fusion, and the little boys with papers under their 
 arms, shouting about the phenomenal happenings 
 of the land, and, taking it altogether, I became 
 tangled up in the crowd, caught one of my little 
 feet on a slight elevation in the street, and ere I 
 could regain my equilibrium, the number of the 
 house I was looking for had evaporated from my 
 memory. I struggled around and got out on the 
 corner of the street, and I and the grip leaned up 
 against the building while we were trying to think 
 of that coveted number; finally, with the assist- 
 ance of the umbrella, the wished for number tot- 
 tered across my mind, and we took the first car
 
 l88. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 suitable and reached the proper destination. In 
 this connection, I might say there was a small 
 Vesuvius (eruption) on the back of my neck, which 
 made things a little unpleasant at times; otherwise, 
 I was having a fine (?) time in the town. 
 
 I slept a little, and after the sun arose, I started 
 for the Fair, taking the boat from the city. Of 
 course I was both pleased and surprised with the 
 size of the Fair, but, feeling a little wrought up 
 over my experience of the night before, together 
 with the crowd at the gate and the pleasant feel- 
 ing coming from the Vesuvius on the back of my 
 neck, I felt on the "scrapping" order, and consid- 
 ering it to be the most appropriate, I feasted my 
 eyes upon the Krupp gun exhibit the first move. I 
 then took a trip around on the elevated road, with 
 a view of getting the lay of the land. After getting 
 about two-thirds of the way around this, and being 
 frightened by the immensity of the business and 
 the crowd, I spied a sign, "United States Life 
 Saving Station." I at once concluded I had bet- 
 ter go over there and register before going any 
 further. 
 
 "Shorty" had partially arranged to meet me at 
 the Fair; we were to meet at the Administration 
 Building telegraph office at noon, but, owing to 
 a misunderstanding, I did not know on what date; 
 so, at noon, I went over there, but no "Shorty." 
 
 There is no use telling you what I saw of the 
 exhibits, as you have all viewed them. By four 
 o'clock in the afternoon, I had walked until I was
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 189. 
 
 completely "done up" and it seemed that further 
 locomotion on my part was completely out of the 
 question, but, being filled with blissful anticipa- 
 tion, I would agitate Vesuvius a little, in order to 
 put new life into me, and again press forward. I 
 will not tell the times I was "taken in" and swin- 
 dled out of my rapidly evaporating currency, but 
 this much I will say, I discovered before return- 
 ing from the Fair, that I had guide books enough 
 to start a miniature library, none of which were 
 of any value to me or of any very great importance 
 to any one. 
 
 Tuesday passed about as did Monday, only on 
 that morning I went to the depot to meet "Shorty," 
 and while there tangled up in such a crowd as you 
 never saw before, who should come surging by 
 but Julia G. I was very much excited at the sight 
 of one I knew, and before I was aware of what I 
 was doing, gave vent to something like "Hello, 
 Julia!" and then she said something, and so did I, 
 and then all was over, the crowd passed on, and I 
 held my post. 
 
 Wednesday passed like unto the two days pre- 
 vious, only of course I was viewing different ob- 
 jects. On this day I remained on the grounds to 
 see the fire-works, electrical fountain, etc. I must 
 say I was very much disappointed with the elec- 
 trical fountain, but the other displays of fire-works 
 were very nice. Just before viewing the fire- 
 works, I had one of the most interesting experi- 
 ences while there. The trouble was, there were so
 
 IQO. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 many of us remaining for the same purpose, and 
 we all wanted something to eat, and apparently 
 about the same time. I kept looking for a place- 
 that was not crowded, but soon became discour- 
 aged and went to a place where there was quite a 
 crowd, got my ticket and stood behind some peo- 
 ple, waiting until they got through eating, when I 
 intended to fall into their place. I stood and 
 stood and stood, and the individual whom I was 
 waiting on, a very corpulent lady of the selfish 
 make-up, or, at least, I thought so, ate as I think she 
 never ate before, and still I stood. Other fellows 
 who came in after I did, had secured places, but 
 still I waited upon my large lady friend. I noticed 
 they were dishing up edibles at a terrible rate, but 
 never thought of the supply exhausting. How- 
 ever, after a certain length of time, my esteemed 
 lady friend completed her repast and took up her 
 departure. I immediately filled as much of the 
 vacuum left by her in the crowd as it was possible 
 for my slender form, (which was then more slen- 
 der than ordinarily), and after waiting a short time 
 longer a waiter came along, and then, to my sor- 
 row, I learned that they were just about out of 
 everything; there remained little, meagre pieces 
 of pie, ten cents per chunk, and some much wa- 
 tered milk, five or ten cents per drink, and I told 
 them I guessed not. I mosied out of the door, 
 sadder but wiser, although no more corpulent than 
 when I went in. The perfume from the departing 
 edibles had sharpened my appetite until all
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 191. 
 
 thoughts of waiting until I went back to town, 
 after the display of fire-works, for something to 
 eat, was driven away and I sought other quarters. 
 I next tried the Electricity Building, where they 
 were cooking by electricity, or making a bluff at 
 it, rather, as I learned afterwards. Here, I se- 
 cured something in the line of eating, by paying 
 desperately for it. 
 
 Thursday was the day of days with me, for I 
 visited the Midway; Oh! such a mob, and such a 
 time I had with my feet getting them through the 
 crowd. Never in all my life did I see such blood- 
 thirsty villians after ducats as those fellows out 
 there were. I soon learned there was but one 
 way to make anything like good progress while 
 going into the swindling shows, etc., and that was 
 to take out all the money you had, hold it out and 
 let them take what they wanted and place the 
 rest in your pocket. 
 
 I played with the Ferris Wheel for a short time, 
 saw the donkeys in the streets of Cairo and would 
 have taken a ride had I not been afraid, also saw 
 the menagerie and many other exhibitions of 
 money grabbing. 
 
 By Friday, I was becoming accustomed to walk- 
 ing around considerable and was taking in the 
 Fair with a vengeance. Friday night I took in the 
 city of Chicago by gas light, or a portion of it. 
 About twelve o'clock I reached my place of stop- 
 ping and placed my weary head to bed, however 
 before doing so I balanced my cash, and at once
 
 192. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 saw that two or three more visits to Midway, and 
 taking in a portion of the town again, would 
 cause me to feel the .effects of the stringency like 
 unto as I had never felt it before. 
 
 Saturday morning I again started for the Fair. 
 During the week I had captured a very severe 
 cold, and like everything else at the Fair, it was BIG. 
 Vesuvius had, however, somewhat subsided, and I 
 was getting along fairly well. That day at noon 
 on going to the telegraph office, I met the long 
 looked for "Shorty." He was just the same little 
 "Shorty," no larger, no smaller, and just as com- 
 ical as ever. Among the places we visited that 
 afternoon was your state building, and while in 
 there we struck one of the most valuable things 
 imaginable, a fellow selling needle threaders. 
 Before I could stop "Shorty," he had purchased 
 two, and much to my delight he presented me 
 with one of them. We both rejoiced greatly, as 
 there is no article of household and kitchen furn- 
 iture of more value to us than such a piece of 
 machinery as this. It will cause life to be ma- 
 terially lengthened for both of us, and the attach- 
 ment of the useful little article known as a button 
 to our paraphernalia will, in the future be looked 
 upon as a pleasure instead of a curse. After vis- 
 iting the Forty Beauties, and other scenes that 
 had been omitted on the previous visit to the 
 place, and scrambling over the fence to see 
 Buffalo Bill's wild west show, and other things of 
 equal worth, I started toward my stopping place,
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 193. 
 
 turning my back upon the Fair for good. After 
 the usual trials, succeeded in getting my cranium 
 placed upon its downy couch about eleven fifty- 
 nine and three quarters p. m. 
 
 The next morning I started homeward with a 
 loaded brain but lean pocket-book. As I was go- 
 ing to the depot the thought suggested itself that 
 I purchase a morning paper from one of the 
 numerous little screeching individuals by the way- 
 side; acting on the impulse of the moment the 
 contemplated purchase was accomplished, but 
 having my hands rather full I did not stop to un- 
 fold or read the paper until after reaching the de- 
 pot. You may imagine the state of humor I was 
 then in when discovering the "kid" had sold me 
 a paper over a week old I did not say anything, 
 but you will please pardon me for not penning my 
 thoughts. 
 
 In a short time the great Fair, together with the 
 busy city was left in the rear, and the beautiful 
 prairies of Illinois began to come to light on 
 either hand. When about one hundred miles out 
 we passed quite near the place of my extreme 
 childhood, and as I viewed the beautiful, broad 
 prairies that stretched before us, I thought well 
 might I say: 
 
 "Amid broad fields of wheat and corn, 
 The lovely home where I was born." 
 
 Passing along, I thought of the stories I had 
 heard my parents relate of the various experiences 
 of their childhood there, of the then undeveloped
 
 194- THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 plains, ox teams as a means of transportation, and 
 other things in comparison, and then to think of 
 the high state of civilization the country is now 
 in, we traveling at the rate of fifty miles an hour 
 with perfect ease, I wondered, was it within the 
 bounds of possibilities that the next generation 
 would witness such a change! Inventions have 
 gained ground more rapidly within the last fifty 
 years than they did for four hundred years before. 
 In 1492, the Indian of America used his pony and 
 canoe as a means of transportation; in 1792, four 
 hundred years later, they used small boats and ox 
 teams how little progress in so great a period of 
 time! The railroad engine of 1860 is but a shadow 
 of the present day engine. Electricity has made 
 more wonderful development in the past ten years 
 than for centuries before; in fact, electricity has 
 reached that stage where we need not be surprised 
 at anything that may be accomplished by its won- 
 derful power. When farming is so perfected that 
 all one will have to do is to sit in the house and 
 "press the button" to raise corn and potatoes, 
 milk the cows, etc., I think I shall again engage 
 in agricultural pursuits. The prospect is not flat- 
 tering for this to be reached before Spring, any- 
 way, and I will doubtless follow my present occu- 
 pation for a short time yet. 
 
 After engaging in a few little difficulties which 
 are incident to. traveling, I reached the place of 
 my habitation in fairly good condition. After 
 having become quieted down in my peaceful
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 195. 
 
 abode, and all the outside world was wrapped in 
 slumber, I could hear such as the following pass 
 through my head: "World's fair guides, the only 
 official!" "Souvenirs, here! souvenirs here! souv- 
 enirs!" "Nice, fresh peanuts and popcorn, five cents 
 a " "All the views of the ground, but five cents!" 
 "Shine, shine, mister, shine?" "Tribune, Globe 
 and any other leading papers! paper, mister, pa- 
 per?" "Nice, ripe bananas, five cents a dozen, nice, 
 ripe!" "Shine, mister, shine?" "After the Fair, 
 After the Ball, The Cat Came Back, and all the 
 latest songs, only five cents, song, mis '' "This 
 way to the Fair grounds! this way, ladies and gen- 
 tlemen!" "Don't make a mistake by thinking you 
 can see the Fair without a guide book, the only 
 "Chewing gum, five cents!" "Tribune, all about 
 the great railroad disaster!" "Shine, mister, shine, 
 only . " It was a repetition of what I heard at 
 the Fair. 
 
 Over a year having now passed since the dust 
 of Jolleyville was wiped from my feet, the old 
 landmarks have been crowded entirely to the 
 background, and new ones occupy the more con- 
 spicuous places in my memory and thought. New 
 acquaintances have been formed, and while the 
 old ones are not entirely forgotten, it is agains-t 
 the laws of the wisely decreed nature that they 
 should be so fresh in mind as they were only a 
 year ago. What coming years may bring, time 
 alone will reveal. Perhaps the thought of friends 
 who once held sacred places in my storehouse of
 
 196. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 memory will have been pushed entirely out, and 
 but the appearance of their names or faces will 
 recall old associations,' 
 
 Among my new found friends, many of them 
 are very congenial, some more than others, of 
 course, some of whom will have a tendency to 
 cause me to have a more pious feeling toward the 
 old gentleman Missionary. Perhaps the following 
 paper, which I read before a society of friends in 
 my new place of abode, when called upon to write 
 upon Whittier's "Among the Hills," will help 
 them to better understand my position in regard 
 to existing circumstances, and the tinge that even 
 bitter disappointment may leave on one's life: 
 
 Scene, rural districts, country life in a hilly 
 country. The writer portrays the place as imme- 
 diately after a season of rain, everything fresh, 
 green and inviting. He reaches the place in the 
 evening as the shadows fall slowly, unceremonious- 
 ly meets an idle milkmaid, and in the conversation 
 which follows, the milkmaid relates: A fair maiden 
 who had left the city for health, gains strength 
 very rapidly, her health is regained, the ideal 
 farmer meets her; apparently a case of love at first 
 sight; after extremely brief preliminaries they are 
 married; their cup of joy runneth over, as it were; 
 he is elected to office, and peace and prosperity is 
 their lot. 
 
 "Paint me as I am" is my motto, and never do 
 I feel more impressed with it than when reading 
 a poem like this. There is a peculiarity attached
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 197. 
 
 to every man's writings that enables those who 
 are well read to distinguish the author by simply 
 hearing the quotations. This proves to us that 
 no one mind is capable of covering the entire 
 scope of anything. The writings of some of our 
 most noted authors, though their selections may 
 be on altogether different subjects, the tenor of 
 their articles have a striking familarity. We find 
 one who gathers his thoughts from the homes, life 
 and surroundings of the kings and queens; another 
 writer, of perhaps the same popularity, seeks the 
 quiet farm in the backwoods, for the ground work 
 in his poem, while others will write such as will 
 appeal to the sympathy of the reader, gathering 
 his thoughts from the poor of the city. It is a 
 strange but stubborn fact that almost invariably, 
 whether the story be taken from the highest or 
 lowest walks of humanity, whether it be taken 
 from the royal family of the old world, or the 
 humble fisherman of our land, there is intermingled 
 with it an exchange of affections, as it were, that 
 either winds up in matrimony or a disappointed 
 life. Even W. T. Stead, who astonished the lit- 
 erary world in his "From the Old World to the 
 New," in Review of Reviews, in Christmas ('92 ) 
 number, had interwoven with it a love story that 
 would have touched the tender portions of the 
 heart of a criminal. 
 
 Whittier has made no exception to the rule in 
 his "Among the Hills," hence it makes it rather a
 
 198. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 difficult subject for the wielder of a blunt pen to 
 handle. In his description of the surroundings, 
 he says: 
 
 "It was as if the summer's late 
 
 Atoning for its sadness. 
 Had borrowed every season's charm 
 
 To end its days in gladness. 
 
 I call to mind those banded vales 
 
 Of shadow and of shining, 
 Through which, my hostess at my side, 
 
 1 drove in days declining. 
 
 We pause at last where home bound rows 
 Brought down the pasture's treasure. * * 
 
 We heard the night hawks suHen plunge, 
 
 The crow his tree male calling, 
 The shadows, lengthening down the slopes, 
 
 About our feet were falling. 
 
 And through them smote the level sun 
 
 In broken lines of splendor. 
 Touched the gray rocks and made the green 
 
 Of the shorn grass, more tender. 
 
 This certainly is the most pleasant time of the 
 day in the country; the day's work is over, the 
 shades falling, and the tired farmer, whether his 
 deeds be evil or not, loveth the darkness, as that 
 is his time of rest. If one has any feeliii.- 
 love, it is more liable to sprout out this time of 
 the day than any other, whether that love be for 
 man or maiden, horse or cow, or the circum- 
 stances with which he is surrounded. To have all 
 things work together in harmony and come out 
 right, we must have the ideal milkmaiden. so here 
 she comes:
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 199. 
 
 "And weaving garlands for her dog, 
 
 'Twixt chidings and caresses, 
 A human flower of childhood shook 
 
 The sunshine from her tresses. 
 
 The suu-browned farmer in his frock, 
 
 Shook hands and called to Mary ; 
 Bare-armed, as Juno might, she came, 
 
 White aproned from the dairy." 
 
 When we get to this part of the story, we grasp 
 the conclusion at once that the fairy maiden of 
 the butter laboratory is to be the heroine of the 
 drama, but we are disappointed; she but .relates 
 the story of other days. She tells her tale, the 
 writer says: 
 
 "The early crickets sang; the stream 
 
 Splashed through my friend's narration ; 
 Her rustic patois of the hills, 
 
 Lost in my free translation. 
 More wise, she said, than those who swarm 
 
 Our hills in middle summer, 
 She came when June's first roses blow, 
 
 To greet the early comer ; 
 From school and ball and rout she came, 
 
 The city's fair, pale daughter, 
 To drink the w'ne of mountain air, 
 
 Beside the Bearcamp water. 
 Her steps grew firmer on the hills 
 
 That watch our homesteads over; 
 On cheek and lip, from summer fields, 
 
 She caught the bloom of clover. 
 For health comes sparkling in the streams 
 
 From cool Chocura stealing; 
 1 here's iron in our Northern winds, 
 
 Our pines are trees of healing. * * 
 Beside her. from the summer heat, 
 
 To share her gratefnl screening, 
 With forehead bared, the farmer stood, 
 
 Upon his pitchfork leaning."
 
 200. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 Here, the story drifts into that sort of intimate 
 conversation that proves more affecting to be read 
 to a more limited audience, and for that reason I 
 make but a brief extract of what follows: 
 
 "She looked up, glowing with the health 
 
 The country air had brought her, 
 And laughing said, you lack a wife, 
 
 Your mother lacks a daughter. 
 
 He bent his black brows to a frown, 
 
 He set his white teeth tightly, 
 'Tis well, he said, for one like you, 
 To choose for me so lightly. 
 
 No mood is mine to seek a wife, 
 
 Nor daughter for my mother ; 
 Who loves you loses in that love, 
 
 All power to love another." 
 
 I realize the fact that often, under the impulse 
 of the moment, things are sometimes said that 
 we do not exactly mean, and I think the individ- 
 ual who gives vent to such an expression as, 
 
 "Who loves you loses in that love, 
 Ail power to love another." 
 
 must be under one of those impulses. We believe 
 that love, like power, is a good thing if properly 
 applied, but when it has the influence over one 
 that it seems to have had over our hardy son of toil 
 in this case, it can hardly be looked upon in any 
 other than a spirit of disgust. If a person is really 
 in this condition, he has my heartfelt sympathy. 
 To abbreviate the narrative, we quote: 
 
 "And so the farmer found a wife, 
 
 His mother found a daughter, 
 There is no happier home than hers, 
 
 On .pleasant Bearcamp water.
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 2OI 
 
 Flowers spring to blossom where she walks 
 
 The careful ways of duty. 
 Our hard still lines of life with her 
 
 Are flowing curves of beauty. 
 
 Our homes are cheerier for her sake, 
 
 Our dooryards brighter blooming, 
 And all about the social air, 
 
 Is sweeter for her coming." 
 
 This verse is one well worthy of example, that 
 we might each live so those around us would feel 
 our influence, and that we could help make life 
 pleasant for others. We believe it is in the power 
 of every individual to lead such a life as to make it 
 pleasant or unpleasant for those around him. This 
 being the case, it should be our ambition to live in 
 that way that the world may be better for our having 
 lived; that when we shall have been called upon 
 to quit this earthly scene, the world will say, it is 
 with sorrow we part with thee. It is not neces- 
 sary to be egotistical to lead such a life as this, 
 but let us treat every one as our equal, and that 
 we may consider that day well spent when we 
 have rolled a stone from our brother's pathway 
 and placed a flower in its stead. 
 
 There is another verse, which we quote without 
 comment, which reads: 
 
 "Her presence lends its warmth and health, 
 
 To all who come before it ; 
 If woman lost us Eden, such 
 
 As she alone restore it." 
 
 As time passed on, it appears, or at least so the 
 story goes, our farmer friend became ambitious 
 and began to play the role of a politician; runs
 
 202. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 for office and is successful, and as lie sails down 
 life's pathway on flowery beds of ease, the ]tmnd 
 possessor of both wife ami office, we quote as fol- 
 lows: 
 
 "He has his own, free, boor. less lore, 
 
 The lessons nature taught him, 
 The wisdom which the wno<]s mirl liilU, 
 
 And toiling men have brought him." 
 
 Referring to the motto with which we started, 
 viz: "Paint me as I am,'' I must s;i\ this poem 
 pictures altogether in a one-sided manner. AYrm 
 all lives on a wooded farm as this man's, we would 
 all be out tilling the soil and watching for fair 
 haired maidens from the city. True, we seldom 
 find a writer who is perfectly honest in his desrrip- 
 tions; he always takes the best. This, as por- 
 trayed, is ideal farm life, he but shows up the sun- 
 shine; let us look on the other side of the fence, 
 in the shade. 
 
 In this story, everything is working in perfect 
 harmony, the earth seems ty have put on her best 
 robes, immediately after a heavy rain in the sum- 
 mer, harvest time, abundant harvest, the load of 
 hay coming down the road, slowly, of course, the 
 driver asleep, the ideal milkmaiden with the but- 
 ter such as was never seen before or since, those 
 exceptionally good cows putting' in their appear- 
 ance, just entering the gate, and then winds up: 
 
 "How rich 
 
 And restful, even poverty and toil 
 Become when beauty, harmony and love 
 Sit at their humble hearth as angels sat."
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 203. 
 
 But now for the other side of farm life among 
 the hills, etc. : Two o'clock in the afternoon, sun 
 so hot it almost melts one to the ground, no water 
 to drink except some carried to the field in a jug, 
 which has become so hot, sitting under the gymp- 
 sum weed, that it almost hurts your throat. Pic- 
 ture, if you please, farm life as a reality under 
 these conditions, a fellow plowing in the stumps, 
 every few feet you strike a stump which jerks you 
 and your horses crosswise, and at the same time 
 have the cattle breaking through the fence at an- 
 other portion of the field, destroying the corn, 
 and in another place the hogs doing likewise, root- 
 ing up the potatoes. Ah, 
 
 "How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood, 
 When fond recollections present them to view." 
 
 After encountering such as this all day,_ retire to 
 the house as the twilight gathers, and, after doing 
 the necessary daily duties around the barn, there 
 is anywhere from ten to twenty cows to milk. This 
 is something that must be done three hundred and 
 sixty-five nights out of the year, and this duty, 
 after one has passed through what we have just 
 outlined during the day, sometimes prove to be 
 very arduous, especially if the cowlets are of the 
 kind that kick. Those of us who are strangers to 
 farm life will perhaps not appreciate this, but it is 
 composed of those cold, stubborn facts that are 
 made of as honest material as those outlined by
 
 204- THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 Whittier. Of course it is the other extreme, and 
 in this, as in all other cases, there is the golden 
 mean. 
 
 There are many pleasures the farmer enjoys we 
 never realize here in the ^ity, and there is no 
 doubt but what thousands and thousands of our 
 city poor would be ninety-nine per cent better off 
 on the farm; in fact, I conscientiously believe the 
 Lord intended our western plains should be more 
 thickly inhabited than they are, and it seems al- 
 most cruel to keep children penned up in a little 
 room in the city, when hundreds of thousands of 
 acres of land lie in these United States yet unde- 
 veloped, where they might live as free as the birds 
 of the air. But this, perhaps, plays no important 
 part in our story. 
 
 It is a well known fact that the American is 
 never satisfied until wrapped in the arms of death, 
 and of course he never can be contented. If he 
 lives in the country, he imagines the city is just 
 the place for him; if he moves to the city, he 
 sometimes has such a desire to get back to the 
 old farm, he wishes he might have died in his 
 youth, and so it goes. We are a restless, unsatis- 
 fied class of mortals at best, and we have long 
 since reached the conclusion that anything like 
 happiness can only be attained in this life by being 
 contented with our lot, and in striving to fit and 
 prepare ourselves for an inheritance in that land 
 where contention and competition are strangers, 
 and peace and happiness hold sway.
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 205. 
 
 Stenographers, as a class, have every reason to 
 be encouraged; stick together and work with a 
 will. The world is fast reaching the point where 
 it cannot well afford to do without us. First of 
 all, one in this business should strive earnestly to 
 become proficient in his profession; stick close to 
 business and do your best. 
 
 There is a great deal of excitement at times, 
 caused by a new patent on the phonograph, and 
 some enthusiastic agent gets hold of it, but we have 
 the pleasure every time of seeing their boom fizzle 
 out, and thus it always will be. The trouble is, 
 so many people have the idea inculcated into their 
 cranium, that a stenographer is only a sort of a 
 machine, and so he may be if he never tries to 
 make anything else out of himself, but the live 
 stenographer is ever up and doing something 
 that will advance his employer's interests. How 
 would it be with the phonograph? The minute 
 the machinery is stopped, the. key turned and 
 the dictator ceases to speak into the dormant 
 tube, of what value is it? Perhaps he wishes an 
 errand run, a letter copied, mailed, some one to 
 fix up his private accounts, he will find his Mr. 
 Phonograph sitting as quietly as he left it, while 
 he runs his own errands and looks after his own 
 accounts. It might be argued his typewriter ope- 
 rator could do all this, and so he might, but if you 
 are going to get some one that is competent to do 
 anything, it would be just as well to hire a steno- 
 grapher.
 
 206. TIIK N | | xoiik.U'HK.R 
 
 We have heard of ])roinincnt business men say- 
 ing they could set the phonograph on their de^k, 
 talk into it at leisure and than send it in to be 
 written off at the convenience of the type-writer 
 operator. On routine work, where the one that 
 did the typewriting was very familiar with the 
 work and knew what was coining, it might be sat 
 isfactory, but on difficult matters it would make 
 very poor sense, from the very fact that every 
 letter would have to be written twice in order to 
 enable any one not hearing it dictated, to proper- 
 ly punctuate it. 
 
 Even should they be introduced into geneial 
 business, it would not hurt the lady stenographers 
 much; it might give the boys a little rub, but we 
 hardly think it probable that such a thing will be 
 accomplished in this age. . Little experience with 
 one of them will prove to most of us that they 
 will have to be improved upon very materially be- 
 fore they will ever be much of a success in a busi- 
 ness way. There will not be near tne satisfaction 
 to a business man to have to carry his machine 
 over to his desk to talk to it as there would be in 
 giving the military command of "Get your book," 
 and see the poor steno scramble for life to get the 
 words as they drop from his lips. There will not 
 be near the satisfaction about discovering that he 
 has said something wrong as there would be in 
 cursing the stenographer, for if it had been taken 
 in shorthand he could declare the stenographer 
 was careless. Common reason will at once make
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 207. 
 
 it apparent to business men, that it would be very 
 inconvenient to use such things, and I think there 
 is but little danger of their doing us any great 
 harm. There may be a few cranks use them, but 
 they will be a class of people that a steno would 
 have a hard life with anyway, and then some of 
 us will have the satisfaction of trying to write 
 them off for them; they can't beat us on this point. 
 When any of you who hammer glass for your 
 bread become discouraged, think of others who 
 are performing like service, and renew your energy, 
 take courage and press forward with a will. Per- 
 haps, while you, in your leisure office hours, are 
 perusing the pages of this book, I will be strug- 
 gling with all my might, endeavoring to partially 
 read the mind of a rapid dictator who does not 
 talk loud enough to be heard, and then get a 
 swearing at, because "That's not the way I dic- 
 tated it." Such mournful sounds often creep 
 around my sanctum, and now comes that other 
 dreadful tone, "Take a letter," so I must leave 
 you. 
 
 THE END.
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 VALUABLE INSTRUCTIONS AND SUGGESTIONS FOR 
 
 STENOGRAPHERS, WRITTEN EXPRESSLY FOR 
 
 THIS WORK, BY MR. RUSSELL. 
 
 The successful man has many rivals, the un- 
 successful none. The statement has been oft re- 
 peated that there are already too many stenograph- 
 ers, and to substantiate this, individuals have been 
 pointed out who, having graduated from some 
 school, have never been able to make a practical 
 use of their knowledge. 
 
 There is but one road to success in any field of 
 labor, and that lies through dense forests of im- 
 pediments which must be removed by our own 
 hands, until this pathway shall lead us out into 
 the broad expanse where the constant tread of 
 the successful ones has worn a thoroughfare. 
 
 It is a well known fact that the majority of 
 those who graduate from short-hand schools 
 come from the rural districts, with the intention 
 of mastering the art, securing' a situation and liv- 
 ing in comparative ease in the city. After 
 securing a diploma from school,' the happy gradu- 
 ate wends his way to the business centers, confi- 
 dent that success has already perched upon his
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 209. 
 
 banner and that there is a vast vacancy in some 
 business circle awaiting his arrival. But too 
 often, although there may be a vacancy, there is 
 a still larger one in the mind of the student, and 
 the philosophy of nature teaches us that a vacancy 
 can not be filled by a fruitless effort to draw from 
 a vacuum. By this statement we do not wish to 
 reflect upon the intelligence of the student, or 
 to place below par the college diploma, but a few 
 suggestions gained from practical experience may, 
 we trust, prove of benefit to the beginner. 
 
 i st. The best equipped stenographer is not 
 one who can exhibit a diploma and numerous let- 
 ters of recommendation, but, if necessary, going 
 without either of these, relies upon his work as 
 evidence of his PRESENT worth. 
 
 and. "Mind your own business" is a proverb 
 that should never be forgotten. The stenographer, 
 unlike many other employees, is admitted at once 
 to the secrets of the office; he becomes almost as 
 conversant with the important matters of the firm 
 as his employer himself, and to make these 
 known outside of the circle in which they should 
 be familiar, is to be guilty of betraying the inter- 
 ests which you are employed to serve. 
 
 3d. Too much stress cannot be laid upon gain- 
 ing the unreserved confidence of your superiors. 
 This can be accomplished only by giving absolute 
 satisfaction, and this, in turn, is secured by study- 
 ing their wishes and seeking to gratify them. 
 Strict business methods must be observed, and
 
 210. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 when called upon to work over-time, as the steno- 
 grapher frequently is, do so with a willingness that 
 will forcibly demonstrate that you are laboring for 
 the interests of your employer, and not merely to 
 get your salary. 
 
 4th. Do not swerve from the path of duty and 
 indulge in extravagancies which the successful 
 stenographers around you may enjoy, or, like the 
 small boy who seeks to imitate his father by 
 smoking a cigar, you may have cause to regret it. 
 What we mean by this, is, don't think that you 
 fill your position with such ability and dignity 
 that the management will look over your personal 
 faults, for there is no position, however well filled, 
 but what may be occupied by others who are 
 equally as able. In our experience we have known 
 several proficient stenographers who, through care- 
 lessness, a disregard for office hours and other re- 
 quirements, have lost the good will that their 
 former faithful labors have merited. 
 
 In most places the stenographer is called upon 
 to do a great deal of work other than letter writing, 
 and to be in a general way acquainted with the 
 details of the office will give to you a prestige not 
 to be gained in any other way. Promotion, gen- 
 erally, only comes through merit, and the steno- 
 grapher who does only that which he is compelled 
 to do around the office, manifests that his ambi- 
 tion rises no higher than the plane upon which he 
 stands at present, and he may rest assured that 
 the fond dreams of what to-morrow may bring
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 211. 
 
 \ 
 
 will never be realized, for the clouds of indo- 
 lence and indifference have bedecked the horri- 
 zon, precluding the rays which the sun of hope 
 has shed forth ere they have been able to accom- 
 plish their mission. 
 
 It is not the fond dreamer, but the incessant 
 toiler that subdues difficulties. When starting out 
 upon life's labors, we have had pointed out to us, 
 men and women of renown, who at one time oc 
 cupied a very secluded position among the world's 
 busy throng, and as we have heard the stor\ of 
 their success related we have felt like following in 
 their way as nearly as possible. But, alasl suc- 
 cess is not to be attained in this manner. The op 
 portunities which came to them have never been 
 presented to us, and we soon awaken to a reali- 
 zation of the fact that we are rowing in a differ- 
 ent current entirely, and cannot successfully stem 
 the tide by our present movements. Observation 
 is one of the greatest factors entering into the 
 education of the practical man or woman. To 
 illustrate this point, we will relate an incident 
 which happened in our own experience, so far 
 back in our career that we have but a faint recol- 
 lection of its details. 
 
 On a bright spring morning, with several com- 
 panions, we started out early to spend the day 
 fishing. Arriving at the stream, one of the boys 
 immediately proceeded to prepare his line, and 
 had scarcely cast it into the water, when he ex- 
 pressed a shout of delight, as he pulled out a
 
 212. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 large fish, weighing about four pounds. The rest 
 of the boys ran to the same spot and all threw 
 their line in the same place, evidently presuming 
 that this was a favored spot where all you had to 
 do was to pull out fish; but, to their dismay, they 
 found the prize had already been taken, and that 
 that special past of the stream was no more 
 favored than any other. And still we were con- 
 fident there were just "as good fish in the sea as 
 have ever been caught." The idea we wish to 
 convey in this, is to rely upon your own judg- 
 ment, study your own surroundings, meet each 
 emergency successfully, and when other laborers 
 have good news to report, you will not be much 
 less favored. No definite rule can be laid down, 
 the pursuit of which will bring to us success; we 
 must each master our own peculiar situation. 
 
 The great difficulty with most individuals who 
 have failed in the past is, that they have not had 
 the power of endurance to bravely face adversity 
 and convert it into the channel of success. Na- 
 poleon once ordered his drummer boy to beat a 
 retreat when he thought he had lost the day. The 
 boy responded: "General, I don't know how to 
 beat a retreat, but I can beat a charge that will 
 strike terror to the hearts of the enemy." He 
 did, and the very fact that he entered the army 
 never having learned how to beat a retreat was 
 so inspiring to the great Napoleon, that the boy's 
 ambition was recognized and promotion was the 
 natural result. Too many enter upon their labors
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 213. 
 
 in a half-hearted way, and they learn to "beat a 
 retreat" before they have made a spirited charge. 
 Many an individual has found the profession of 
 stenography a stepping-stone to a higher plane, 
 but, unlike some classes of work, the stenographer 
 must be thorough and accurate, for he cannot 
 write on the machine that which -he has not been 
 able to take in dictation. A large majority are 
 satisfied with a speed of one hundred words per 
 minute, simply because there are some positions 
 they can fill at that speed, while the aim of all 
 should be to write two hundred words per minute, 
 for experience has proven that this can be done, 
 and anyone who is satisfied with less, is lowering 
 the standard. 
 
 The profession is now becoming much more 
 crowded than it has been; competition has in- 
 creased, and only the thoroughly competent sten- 
 ographer is in demand at all. There are many 
 things which contribute to success aside from 
 those already mentioned, as it is evident that no 
 stenographer can report a studied speech, deliv- 
 ered by an orator, unless he himself has become 
 well read and in a general way acquainted himself 
 with the subject under consideration. Life is 
 short, however, and the field of knowledge so ex- 
 tensive that the reaper does not have opportunity 
 to cover the vast territory even once, and the pro- 
 fession of stenography, like that of others, must 
 soon be arranged to meet in a special way the re- 
 quirements of each peculiar branch of business
 
 214- THE STENOGRAPH! U 
 
 in which it is used. This will not only be of 
 great advantage to the profession, but the busi- 
 ness man as well/ "for the stenographer will then 
 have no excuse for being ignorant of terms used 
 in the special industry with which he has become 
 connected. We do not expect at any very early 
 date to see this system inaugurated, but the stu- 
 dent who meets with any extraordinary success, 
 has invariably done so by following a certain pro- 
 fession and becoming so thoroughly proficient in 
 it that it has been difficult to replace his services. 
 Many firms dislike to employ a new stenographer, 
 because they are required to school them in their 
 peculiar business for some six months before they 
 are of much real worth. This should not be. The 
 duties of the stenographer are so well denned in 
 general, that there can be no excuse on his part 
 for inefficiency. 
 
 The mistake is often indulged in, that because 
 we have sufficient speed to meet present require- 
 ments we have therefore mastered the art, and 
 many a student, after leaving business college, 
 never thinks of continuing his studies for a year 
 or two, until he has become so thorough that, if 
 necessary, he could get up a text-book of his own. 
 Garfield taught school at one time by keeping al- 
 ways just one lesson in advance of his class, and 
 had he never informed us of this uncommon oc- 
 currence in his history, perhaps even those whom 
 he taught would never have known it. Some of 
 the best stenographers to-day are those who have
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 215. 
 
 by persistent study culled from some text book 
 the necessary information and made a practical 
 application of it. Their success has been due to 
 the fact that when a situation was obtained, all 
 the confidence they had was reposed in them- 
 selves, and never thought of such a thing as ask- 
 ing the teacher to solve the difficulties that arose. 
 While we speak thus encouragingly to the beginner, 
 and could, were we so disposed, point to numer- 
 ous instances where success has been attained 
 under the most adverse circumstances, this work 
 would not be complete did it not contemplate, at 
 least partially, the extensive field opening to the 
 proficient, and the requisites necessary to meet 
 future emergencies. 
 
 The anticipations of that which invention may 
 bring about have entirely crushed the aspirations 
 that have arisen within the minds of some, and 
 they have seemingly left the field to be occupied 
 by the phonograph and such other inventions as 
 the ingenuity of the philosopher may bring forth. 
 If the profession of stenography shall continue 
 throughout the coming generations it will be due 
 to the fact that the stenographer has proven him- 
 self to be more than a machine. The phonograph 
 may record accurately every sound of the human 
 voice and repeat it without having lost its individ- 
 uality, but it is a machine and nothing more 
 and can never be on a parity with the professional 
 stenographer. We do not wish to be understood 
 as saying that some of these inventions may not
 
 2l6. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 in the near future take the place of some steno- 
 grapers, but wish to emphasize the fact that the 
 mind of man is more than a machine and must 
 always be so recognized. We are speaking now 
 to the professional stenographers, those compe- 
 tent to judge whether or not the position taken is 
 a tenable one. We are all familiar with the 
 many errors made in dictation by the ordinary 
 individual, in grammatical construction often and 
 quite frequent in choice of langauge. The phon- 
 ograph MUST record every error and repeat it in 
 translation, and in this particular point is the 
 superiority of the stenographer shown. To 
 illustrate the point in view, we will give one in- 
 stance where the stenographer acted as a machine 
 ONLY, without the exercise of that judgment which 
 must enter into all intelligent correspondence. 
 
 When we say that the stenogapher in question 
 was a lady, we presume none will infer from that 
 that we choose to use them as a mark of inferiori- 
 ty, for our purpose is far from this, our object 
 being only to adhere strictly to the truth. This 
 young lady, from some cause or other, was suffer- 
 ing from a spirit of drowsiness, and during dicta- 
 tion she quite frequently indulged in such con- 
 tortions of the facial features as to cause her em 
 ployer to feel that he was perhaps somewhat un- 
 kind in talking to her until she had become so 
 weary. At length, quite overcome, she threw 
 her hands over her head and indulged in an audi- 
 ble "yawn" that told the story of her anguish.
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 217. 
 
 Her employer ceased dictation, and, thinking that 
 a little medical advice might be preferable to any 
 other at this time, said, "For that tired feeling 
 take some of Hood's Sarsaparilla, " all of which 
 the stenographer proceeded to write in her notes. 
 You may well imagine his feelings, when reading 
 over his correspondence and finding that he had 
 given such advice to one of his customers, and 
 had it not been for the circumstances surround- 
 ing the case, he doubtless would have insisted that 
 he never gave vent to such an expression. This 
 stenographer was perhaps accurate and thorough, 
 but she was lacking in that judgment which should 
 lend dignity to her position. The phonograph 
 could have done all that she did, with the excep- 
 tion of exhibiting that tired feeling, but the steno- 
 grapher should have done much more. By the 
 recital of this occurrence we think we have proven 
 the point at issue, that the stenographer is, or at 
 least should be, more than a machine; but, if he is 
 not, he can only be so considered. 
 
 Every rivulet has its source, but unless it shall 
 gradually increase in volume it will soon become a 
 stagnant pool, rather than a tributary which shall 
 ultimately reach the ocean. The standard of our 
 profession must be maintained to be the ocean of 
 thought and understanding into which all our 
 efforts flow, and, like the rivulets as they wend their 
 way to the ocean, each has its peculiarities, and 
 its waters may be distinguished from that of any 
 other; but so soon as it reaches the great reser-
 
 2l8. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 voir individuality is lost. So we all form a 
 component part of the stenographic world; some 
 of usj as tributaries, may not be swelling to any 
 large extent the dignity of our profession; if so, 
 we are untrue to ourselves and guilty of retarding 
 the progress of others. If we are ever permitted 
 to join the successful throng, it shall be because 
 we have reached the harbor of success, and not 
 because success has come to us. 
 
 We do not think that day will ever come when 
 we shall be able to adopt a standard system of 
 shorthand, for there are already too many divis- 
 ions, the borders of which are all widening, to 
 permit any such hopes to arise. This, however, 
 isa matter of secondary importance, as there is 
 doubtless not a system extant to-day, but what, 
 if properly mastered, together with such inven- 
 tions as the student himself will adopt, -will meet 
 all the requirements of the profession. The ob- 
 ject to be sought is not so much a uniting of the 
 various systems, so that we shall all think and 
 write alike, as it is to become thorough in our own 
 way of thinking. If each shorthand student had 
 a system of his own, he would be master of it, as 
 no one else could be, and for this reason the 
 student will never adhere strictly to the forms 
 given by a text-book when there are opportunities 
 afforded for improvement. The ideas grasped by 
 Pittman and others were not beyond improvemt, 
 and, to adhere strictly to them in order that we 
 may write a pure system, is to stunt the growth of
 
 HIS LIFE AND TRIALS. 219. 
 
 our own individuality, and thus retard rather than 
 encourage progressive thought. 
 
 The phonograph would never have been invent- 
 ed had the mind of Edison rested contented in 
 the thought that present achievements could not 
 be surpassed. All the agencies of nature will yet 
 be called upon to exercise their powers, but even 
 after all this has been accomplished we are satis- 
 fied that the decree of the Almighty shall not be 
 changed, that "Man is Lord of his creations." 
 Let the stenographer be as studious in his meth- 
 ods as the inventor possibly can be in his search 
 for some undiscovered agency yet to be employed, 
 and there will yet burst in upon us revelations 
 more astonishing in their nature than the peculiar 
 operations of those forces with which we are now 
 unfamiliar. The age is a progressive one; the 
 rays of light shed upon the mind of man in ages 
 past have been preserved and handed down to us 
 to-day, and with all this light streaming from be- 
 hind us, the intelligence of to-day increasing the 
 potency of its rays, the prospects of the future 
 brighten, and we fancy we see emerging the com- 
 ing man, who' will be a type of the fullness of 
 knowledge. Ours is but a minor branch which 
 may contribute some light to the dawning day, 
 and may it be so inviting and inspiring in its 
 nature that, while the inventor lives upon the 
 threshold of to-morrow, we shall not be found rock- 
 ing ourselves to sleep in the shades of yesterday, 
 wherein our ancestors passed away. We have no
 
 220. THE STENOGRAPHER 
 
 fault to find with the individual who dares to lift 
 the curtain which surrounds futurity and prepare 
 for coming events. If the fruits of his labors 
 bring to him wealth, I know of none more worthy 
 to be thus honored, and feel to admire that law 
 which has been established, that, "The laborer is 
 worthy of his hire," and "The idler shall not eat 
 the bread of the laborer." 
 
 Let us not indulge in fond dreams of what the 
 future stenographer may be, but let us always 
 make the present superior to the past. We can- 
 not afford to find fault with others because they 
 nave converted their log cabin into a palatial resi- 
 dence, for the same opportunities are afforded us. 
 The momentum of a body will always tend to ac- 
 celerate its present movements, and with an 
 equal force applied, stimulating the effects of the 
 past, we are satisfied that "THE STENOGRAPHER" 
 will be looked upon as one of the important fac- 
 tors entering into the improvement of our com- 
 mercial, educational and professional interests. 
 When you have read "THE STENOGRAPHER" and 
 become more thoroughly acquainted with his life 
 and trials, let it be handed down to posterity with 
 your benediction, forgetting the author whose ex- 
 periences have been so much like yours.
 
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