Leaves Home. In St. Louis. On the Mississippi River. From
Lagrange to Lindley.
Few boys live through their teens who do not want to take a wild
goose chase to see the world. I was no exception. So after bidding
my mother, brothers, sisters, farewell on my 19th birthday, with
mother's blessing, in the company with Dr. Sam Elmore, his wife and
little boy, I started for north Missouri. The first night we spent
at Washington, Ind. This was the first time I ever stopped as a
guest at a hotel. The next day we secured passenger tickets on the
Ohio and Mississippi Rail Road to St. Louis. This was the first time
I had ever rode on railroad cars. Away we went over rivers and
rivulets, hills and hollows, through farms and towns, woods and
prairies. I thought we would never stop. I was seeing the world.
But finally we stopped. And someone said, "St. Louis." I stepped
out and the first thing I saw was the "Father of Waters". Now, I
tell you boys, the Mississippi is a big river. We had to cross in a
ferry boat. There was no Ead's bridge there.
When we landed on the Missouri side and stepped out on the wharf
there were, on all sides, mules, negroes, drays, drummers, porters,
beggars, fakers, yelling, moving, jostling, huddling, crowding. Why,
I felt that to be in such a place was dangerous to be safe.
The doctor had been there before, I had not. I noticed he pressed
ahead, so I followed. Finally we reached the Planter's House, and I
cast my eye up to the upper story and thought, "O my, I cannot sleep
up there, it will make me dizzy and I will fall out."
We sought a steamboat to go up the Mississippi and the earliest one
we could find would not start for two days. But we bought tickets
which entitled us to lodging and board on the boat, so we took our
places on the boat, and staid with it until it landed us at Lagrange,
our destination. The name of the boat was "Thomas Swan." I never
traveled in any nicer way than on a large fine steam-boat--board
and bed and everything clean and good, interesting and pleasant.
The first night, when I went to bed, I put my boots and clothes where
I supposed I could easily find them the next morning, but when
morning came I could find everything except the boots. I found, in
the place where I had left the boots, an old pair of slippers. (The
slippers were nice and clean, however.) I thought some scamp had
stolen my boots, and left for me his slippers. I did not know what
to do. I was afraid to wear the slippers lest someone would accuse
me of stealing them. But I finally dared to put them on and step
into the cabin parlor and at the far end I saw fifty or more pairs of
boots, and all well cleaned and blackened. I shyly approached a big
black man who was sitting by the boots and dare to ask him if he had
my boots there. He said, "What's de number, please?" I said,
"Number seven." "Yes sir" he said and picked out a pair for me. (I
noticed by this time that all the boots were numbered with chalk.) I
saw at once that the boots he picked out were not mine, and said,
"These are not my boots." "Dat's number seven, sir, de number of
your berth." I said, "You are mistaken, my birth is the 15th of
March." "O dat so." "Your number fifteen," said he, and picked up
the boots chalk marked 15. They were my boots. I took them and
started to walk back with them in my hand to my berth, the number of
which was 15. The negro said, "Say, mister, I usually get a dime."
I said, "Excuse me,", and paid him a dime.
Do you see, boys? Yes, we see that the boy who afterwards became our
father was green. Of course, I was green. All things are green
before they are ripe.
In the next day or two we landed at Lagrange, Missouri, a small town
above Quincy, Ill. There the doctor had two horses and a buggy. The
doctor, his wife and boy rode in the buggy, driving one horse, and I
rode the other horse, and in this fashion we made our way westward
for four days, passing through the towns of Lewiston, Edina,
Kirksville, Scottsville, until we arrived at Lindley, a small town on
Medicine Creek in Grunday County.
The afternoon of the first day of the four days referred to above,
was cold and stormy. So I rode in advance, inquiring at every house
for lodging for our company, but was denied. I passed one house
however--it looked so small I thought there would not be room enough
for all, but the doctor called when he came to it, and received a
favorable answer. I turned back and the man said, "I have plenty for
your horses to eat, but no place for them only to tie them in an open
shed. Our house is small but only three of us and four of you
perhaps we can get along." The doctor said, "We will stay." The man
was good but the accommodations were bad. The house was a small
one-roomed log cabin. Two beds and a narrow space between them fully
occupied one half of the floor space. A the other end of the room
was a large fireplace with a bright, cheerful, warm, comfortable
fire, so much so that we could sit back against the beds, which we
all did, and were comfortable except the woman of the house, who was
in one corner of the fireplace getting supper. I do not mean that
the woman was in the fire but nearby. You know that the Greek word
eis according to some theologians means nearby. But the bread in the
skillet was under the fire and over the fire for there were live
coals above it and live coals beneath it. The meat in the pan was on
top of the fire. I never ate better bread and meat. I was hungry.
After supper I began to wonder and worry about where I would sleep,
and one of mother's proverbs came to my mind, "Do not worry child,
God will provide." Then I remembered that God had provided for many
such occasions but he really did it through Mother.
Soon a little trundle bed was drawn from under one of the large beds,
and it just filled the space between the two larger beds. The little
boy of the house was put in the little bed and the good lady of the
house told me that I would have to sleep with the little boy in the
little bed. I said, "All right." An opportunity was given and I
retired. Although I was a boy under twenty I was several inches
longer than the bed, but I managed to get between the two end boards
and slept. Whether pushed under the larger bed during the night, I
know not. The next morning at daylight I was still between the two
big beds, but I had not grown in length any during the night the end
boards were in the way.
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