"I'll serve his youth, for youth must have his course,
For being restrained it makes him ten times worse;
His pride, his riot, all that may be named,
Time may recall, and all his madness tamed."
My Dear Reader: I first saw the light of day in a little town
called Marietta, at the mouth of the Muskingum River in the State
of Ohio, on the first day of August, 1829. I was the youngest of
six children, and was the pet of the family. My father was a ship
carpenter, and worked at boat-building in the beginning of the
present century. I had good opportunities to secure an early
education, as we had good schools in the West at that time. I had
very little liking for books, and much less for school. When my
parents thought me at school, I was playing "hookey" with other
boys, running about the river, kicking foot-ball, playing "shinny
on your own side," and having a fight nearly every day. I hardly
ever went home that I did not have my face all scratched up from
having been in a fight, which innocent amusement I loved much better
than school. When I was hardly ten years of age, I would carry
stones in my pocket and tackle the school teachers if they attempted
to whip me. My father was away from home at his work most of the
time, and my mother (God bless her dear old soul) could not manage
me. She has often called in some passer-by to help her punish me.
I can now see I richly deserved all the punishment I ever received,
and more too. When there was company at our house, and my mother
would be busy preparing a meal, I would get my bow and arrows and
shoot the cups off from the table, and then run away. I guess I
was about the worst boy of my age west of the Allegheny Mountains
that was born of good Christian parents. I have often heard the
good old church members say: "That boy will be hung if he lives
to be twenty years old." But I have fooled them, and am still on
the turf, although I have had some pretty close calls, as you will
see by reading this book.