ork. I was also taxed with being penurious in my
habits--mean, as the boys had it. I did not spend my extra dimes, but
they knew not the reason. Every penny that I could save I knew was
needed at home. My parents were wise and nothing was withheld from me.
I knew every week the receipts of each of the three who were
working--my father, my mother, and myself. I also knew all the
expenditures. We consulted upon the additions that could be made to
our scanty stock of furniture and clothing and every new small article
obtained was a source of joy. There never was a family more united.

Day by day, as mother could spare a silver half-dollar, it was
carefully placed in a stocking and hid until two hundred were
gathered, when I obtained a draft to repay the twenty pounds so
generously lent to us by her friend Mrs. Henderson. That was a day we
celebrated. The Carnegie family was free from debt. Oh, the happiness
of that day! The debt was, indeed, discharged, but the debt of
gratitude remains that never can be paid. Old Mrs. Henderson lives
to-day. I go to her house as to a shrine, to see her upon my visits to
Dunfermline; and whatever happens she can never be forgotten. [As I
read these lines, written some years ago, I moan, "Gone, gone with the
others!" Peace to the ashes of a dear, good, noble friend of my
mother's.]

The incident in my messenger life which at once lifted me to the
seventh heaven, occurred one Saturday evening when Colonel Glass was
paying the boys their month's wages. We stood in a row before the
counter, and Mr. Glass paid each one in turn. I was at the head and
reached out my hand for the first eleven and a quarter dollars as they
were pushed out by Mr. Glass. To my surprise he pushed them past me
and paid the next boy. I thought it was a mistake, for I had
heretofore been paid first, but it followed in turn with each of the
other boys. My heart began to sink within me. Disgrace seemed coming.
What had I done or not done? I was about to be told that there was no
more work for me. I was to disgrace the family. That was the keenest
pang of all. When all had been paid and the boys were gone, Mr. Glass
took me behind the counter and said that I was worth more than the
other boys, and he had resolved to pay me thirteen and a half dollars
a month.

My head swam; I doubted whether I had heard him correctly. He counted
out the money. I don't know whether I thanked him; I don't believe I
did. I took it and made