Produced by Jerry Kuntz as part of the Lawson's Progress
Project, http://www.lawsonsprogress.com
Born Again
by Alfred Lawson
DEDICATION
One day, not many years ago, while walking along a street in Detroit,
Michigan, I was stopped by a ragged and forlorn beggar, with the request
for a few cents to buy something to eat.
I gave him a dime and walking on a few paces stopped to observe his
following movements. Contrary to my supposition that perhaps he would
enter a saloon and buy whiskey he went as fast as his weary legs would
carry him in a straight course toward a restaurant on the opposite side
of the street.
As he was about to enter the place his attention was attracted by a more
pitiable wretch than himself standing outside who had but one leg, was
partly blind, and whose nose was almost eaten off by disease.
He paused for a moment and looked sympathetically at the crippled beggar
and then started again toward the door of the restaurant, but before
entering he stopped once more to take another look, and after a few
moments' hesitation he deliberately turned about, handed the other
fellow the dime and walked away without feeding himself.
Of all the heroic deeds I have ever witnessed, I recollect none quite so
grand and noble as this act, for notwithstanding this poor beggar may
have been heir to every other weakness a human being could possibly
contract, still he contained that spark of unselfish love for his fellow
beings, without which no man is more than a mere brute, and for that
reason I respectfully dedicate this work to his memory.
ALFRED WILLIAM LAWSON.
CHAPTER I
Judging from my own experience it is my opinion that many strange and
wonderful events have happened during the past in which man took part,
that have never been recorded.
Many reasons could be given for this, but the main causes perhaps, are
that the participants have lacked the intelligence, education or
literary ability to properly describe them.
In these respects I must admit my own inferiority. But I feel that
should I not promulgate an account of my own remarkable life for the
benefit of mankind then I would betray the trust nature has confided in
me.
So I warn the exquisite literary critic and the over-polished individual
who prefer fancy phrases to logical ideas, that this work may somewhat
jar their delicate senses of perception.
And having offered these few remarks I shall introduce myself to the
reader. My name is John Convert. The earth is my home and country. All
men are my kin, be they white, black, red, yellow or brown. I was born
somewhere on the Atlantic Ocean between Liverpool and New York while my
parents were emigrating from England to America. My mother died giving
me birth.
Whether or not it was because I first saw the light of day while in a
state of transit that caused me afterwards to acquire a thirst for
travel and adventure I cannot say, but true it is that during my whole
life I have been constantly moving from place to place. Then again my
father was a Methodist preacher and the good Lord ostensibly sent calls
to him from every nook and corner of the United States, for as long as I
can remember he too was continually changing abiding places. In fact, it
seems to me now when I look back that he seldom preached twice from the
same pulpit. Whether this was due to bad preaching or because he had the
courage to tell the good church folk many plain truths concerning
themselves, I know not, but I do know that in many ways my father was a
very good man, and also a very learned man--perhaps a little too learned
to be wise, for, like most great scholars he may have forced so much
book stuff into his brain that he left no room for progressive thoughts
of his own. He was, however, quite unlike many clergymen of the present
time who apparently think and certainly act as if their main work was to
flatter and amuse the women.
My father was straightforward, honest, kind and truthful. He was
dogmatic in his religious beliefs, combative by nature and never happier
than when fighting the Devil in his own corner, as he expressed it.
Furthermore, he was haughty, stubborn and egotistical, and these traits
of character I inherited from him. But while I honestly inherited
combativeness, stubbornness and egotism from my father, these
characteristics became very objectionable to him when displayed by
myself. So from my earliest childhood days there was a continual tug of
war between us to see who would be master of the house.
There was one inheritance I received from my father, however, that I
have always felt profoundly grateful to him for, namely, a sound
physical constitution. One of his earnest teachings, which, by the way,
was generally ridiculed, was that parents should not bring children into
the world unless they themselves had led temperate lives and were in
perfect health. In this respect he lived as he preached and practiced
temperateness in all things.
As I grew up I was taught to take care of myself physically, as well as
mentally and morally. At the age of eleven I was as large and strong as
most boys of sixteen, and at sixteen there were few men who could outdo
me in feats of strength and endurance. My education was limited to what
I learned at the different public schools which I attended, and without
exception I was always rated as the very worst boy of the whole
institution. I do not believe that ever a day passed that I was not sent
to the principal for refractory conduct, and in many instances I was
suspended or expelled entirely. Fighting was my chief offence as I was
always ready and anxious for a fistic encounter with any boy who was
willing to battle. In short, I was a very unruly child with an
independent spirit, who recognized the authority of nobody to give
arbitrary commands. In consequence of these facts my father and I had
frequent altercations and as my innate love for travel and adventure
asserted itself I ran away from home when but eleven years old, an age
when most children are mere babies, and started out in the world to
paddle my own canoe.
I began to earn my own living by selling newspapers on the streets of
Chicago, and from that time on became a wanderer upon the face of the
earth; working at various occupations and engaging in many schemes and
pursuits in an endeavor to pay my way through life, and during the next
eleven years I not only visited every part of the United States, but
nearly every country in the world, during which time I experienced
enough adventures to fill many books if put into print, but as they have
no bearing upon this narrative I must pass them by without mention. And
so at the age of twenty-two, being then a worthless vagabond, I was
aboard a three-masted schooner working my way from Australia to England
as a common sailor. That was during the year of 1881.