reparing ourselves in the
cobbler's room.

I know of no better mode of benefiting a youth than joining such a
club as this. Much of my reading became such as had a bearing on
forthcoming debates and that gave clearness and fixity to my ideas.
The self-possession I afterwards came to have before an audience may
very safely be attributed to the experience of the "Webster Society."
My two rules for speaking then (and now) were: Make yourself perfectly
at home before your audience, and simply talk _to_ them, not _at_
them. Do not try to be somebody else; be your own self and _talk_,
never "orate" until you can't help it.

I finally became an operator by sound, discarding printing entirely.
The accomplishment was then so rare that people visited the office to
be satisfied of the extraordinary feat. This brought me into such
notice that when a great flood destroyed all telegraph communication
between Steubenville and Wheeling, a distance of twenty-five miles, I
was sent to the former town to receive the entire business then
passing between the East and the West, and to send every hour or two
the dispatches in small boats down the river to Wheeling. In exchange
every returning boat brought rolls of dispatches which I wired East,
and in this way for more than a week the entire telegraphic
communication between the East and the West _via_ Pittsburgh was
maintained.

While at Steubenville I learned that my father was going to Wheeling
and Cincinnati to sell the tablecloths he had woven. I waited for the
boat, which did not arrive till late in the evening, and went down to
meet him. I remember how deeply affected I was on finding that instead
of taking a cabin passage, he had resolved not to pay the price, but
to go down the river as a deck passenger. I was indignant that one of
so fine a nature should be compelled to travel thus. But there was
comfort in saying:

"Well, father, it will not be long before mother and you shall ride in
your carriage."

My father was usually shy, reserved, and keenly sensitive, very saving
of praise (a Scotch trait) lest his sons might be too greatly
uplifted; but when touched he lost his self-control. He was so upon
this occasion, and grasped my hand with a look which I often see and
can never forget. He murmured slowly:

"Andra, I am proud of you."

The voice trembled and he seemed ashamed of himself for saying so
much. The tear had to be wiped from his eye, I fondly noticed, as he
bade