n the
woods, which I had not failed to keep baited for several winters in
succession and had never yet caught a quail.

Whenever I stood before the looking glass, the very sight of myself,
with the wonderful change in appearance, made me feel that I was in a
far-off land among a strange class of people.

Then I would think of how I must blacken my shoes, brush my clothes,
comb my hair, live up to the rules of etiquette and possibly turn out to
be a preacher.

I kept my trouble to myself as much as possible, but life was a great
burden to me.

My uncle was as kind to me as an own father, and gave me to understand,
that whenever I needed money I had only to ask for it. This was a new
phase of life, and it was hard for me to understand how he could afford
to allow me to spend money so freely. But when he actually reprimanded
me one day for being stingy, and said I ought to be ashamed to stand
around on the outside of a circus tent and stare at the advertising
bills when I had plenty of money in my pocket, I thought then he must be
"a little off in his upper story." Of course I didn't tell him so, but I
really think for the time being he lowered himself considerably in my
estimation, by trying to make a spendthrift of me. I had been taught
that economy was wealth, and the only road to success. I thought how
easily I could have filled my iron bank at home, in which I had for
years been saving my pennies, had my folks been like my uncle.

Altogether it was a question hard to solve, whether I should remain
there and take my chances of being a preacher and possibly die of
home-sickness, with plenty of money in my pockets, or return to Ohio,
where I had but a few days before bidden _farewell forever_ to the whole
country, and where I knew hard work on the farm awaited me, and economy
stared me in the face, without a dollar in my pocket.

Of the two I chose the latter and returned home in less than three
weeks a full fledged New Yorker. I brought my fiddle along and succeeded
in making life a burden to Mr. Keefer, who "never _was_ fond of music,
anyhow," and who never failed to show a look of disgust whenever I
struck up my tune.

Before I left New York, my uncle very kindly told me that if I would
attend school regularly after getting home, he would assist me
financially.

He kept his promise, and for that I now hold him in grateful
remembrance.

[Illustration: RETURNING HOME FROM NEW YORK.--PAGE 34.]

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