r, caring little for this
life, lived in and for the spiritual. To her heaven was a place as much
as the country village where she was born. She was never tired of
talking to us children about its golden streets and the rest there after
the toils and pains of life. But, boylike, we discounted all she said,
and felt we wanted some of this world before we knocked at the gates of
the next.

We loved our mother, but her soul was too gentle to keep in restraint
hot, fiery youths like my brothers and myself. On the whole we were good
boys, and I suppose caused her no more pain than the average youngsters.
Perhaps the keynote of her character can best be found in the following
incident, if that which was of daily occurrence could be called an
incident:

Every night of my life in those days she would come to my bed to pray
over me, ever saying, as she kissed me or clasped my hand: "My son,
remember if you were to pass your whole life here in poverty and
hardship it would not much matter so long as you attain to the Heavenly
Rest." This teaching would have been well had she only taught me some
worldly wisdom with it, but that all-essential knowledge was kept from
me, I being left to learn the ways of man in that terrible school of
experience. The consequence being that when after some months I was
launched out in life I was a ripe and apt victim to be caught in the
world's huge snare. In fact, had my parents designed me to become a
traveler in the Primrose Way they could not have educated me to better
purpose.

Save when in the school I had never been permitted to associate with
other boys, but was kept in the house, and up to my sixteenth year
hardly dreamed there was evil in the world. I was told much about the
"wicked," but thought that meant those who smoked tobacco or drank
whisky. I hardly thought any women came under that category, but if any,
then it must mean those who came around selling apples and oranges. The
reader will see that when once away from the shelter of home, in
threading the world's devious ways, I would be crossing the roaring
torrent "on the perilous footing of a spear," all but certain to fall
into the flood beneath.

During my last year at school and for a long time after leaving it, my
father and mother were never tired of talking about my good education.
Possibly they were not very good judges, but I am confident that they,
after all, did not realize the importance of a boy being well equipped