- ILRIBI^^IElf °

Bought with the income
of the
Anna H. Chittenden P\md

William A. Stone

Photograph, 1910

THE TALE OF
A PLAIN MAN

BY
WILLIAM A. STONE

0»rouli 1E2iitfott

PHILADELPHIA
THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY
1918

Copyright. 1918, by
William A. Stone

CK ZS. 417

PREFACE
In the writing and publication of the first edition
of these memoirs, at the request of my children and
grandchildren, I was not influenced by the thought
that they would be read except from a sense of
filial duty. There has been such an unexpected
demand for them that after the first edition of five
hundred copies was exhausted I have turned a
copy of the memoirs, after revision and some
additions, over to The John C. Winston Company,
of 1010 Arch Street, Philadelphia, Pa., who will
publish a second edition so that all who desire a
copy may obtain one through the publishers.
William A. Stone.
June 1st, 1918.

(3)

CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAOE
I. Childhood  9
II. Mt Sister's Marriage  14
III. Stone Soup  18
IV. The PiKERY Bottle and Early Reme
dies AND Doctors  20
V. Matthew Blackwbll and Plating
Indun. . . ,  25
VI. Cub Home Life  33
VII. Superstition  38
VIII. Mass Meetings  40
IX. The Underground Railroad  42
X. Graveyard Ghosts  44
XI. Midnight  47
XII. Boyhood  49
Xni. Spiritualism  58
XIV. Camp Meeting  60
XV. Baptism by Immersion  67
XVI. Called Preachers  70
XVII. Father McGovern  78
XVIII. Johnny Smoker  81
XIX. Local Politics  86
XX. The Civil Wab  89
XXI. Girls  .'  91
XXn. I Become a Soldier  107
XXIII. On Picket  117
XXIV. In Camp  131
(5)

6

CONTENTS

CHAFTEB PAGE
XXV. Ordered to Philadelphia  134
XXVI. Home on Furlough  138
XXVII. Back in Camp  140
XXVin. Lincoln's Assassination  147
XXIX. Home Again  149
XXX. Wellsbobo  167
XXXI. Admitted to the Bab and Married. . 188
XXXn. Wilson's Campaign fob Judge  203
XXXIII. Ku Klux Outrages  208
XXXIV. District Attorney  212
XXXV. United States Attobnby  227
XXXVI. Beaveb's Campaign against Stewart 233
XXXVn. Life vs. Death — ^A Lawyer's Brief
fob the Plaintiff  237
XXXVIII. Candidate fob Congbess  257
XXXIX. Govebnob of Pennsylvania  280
XL. Return to Pbactice  303
XLI. Remabks of William A. Stone at the
Pbesentation of the Pobtbait of
Justice John P. Elkin, Deceased,
TO the Supbeme Court, Mabch 20,
1916  308

ILLUSTRATIONS
William A. Stone  Frontispiece PAOE
Amanda Howe Stone  18
Bibthplace and Boyhood Home  36
Israel Stone  86
The Authob's Old Home as it Appeabs Today . . ISO

iV

CHAPTER I
Childhood
I HAVE no recollection of being born, but
from what has been told me, and other
evidence, I am convinced that I was born
on the 18th day of April, 1846, in Delmar
Township, Tioga County, Pennsylvania. My
father was a widower when he married my
mother, by which circumstance I had a half-
sister and three half-brothers. He was a small
farmer on a fifty-acre farm and his best crop was
children — ^not in quality perhaps, but quantity,
at least the neighbors thought there were enough
of us. We were not bad children, but somewhat
shiftless, and indifferent to the opinion of the
neighbors. My earhest recollection was being
hustled out of bed early in the morning by my
half-brothers to see Santa Claus as he galloped
over the brow of the hill in his sleigh behind his
reindeers in a scud of blinding, flying snow. I
thought I could see him and hear the bells on
the reindeers. The others said they could see
him and hear the bells jingling. They pointed
(9)

10 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
him out to me and I saw or was persuaded to
see him. Afterwards I had some doubt whether
I did see him. We often see things through the
influence and insistence of others that we cannot
see when they are not with us. Santa did not
bring me much that Christmas morning — ^two
round bull's-eye candies and some doughnuts in
the shape of elephants and horses. But that
was as much as the others got, and it was enough.
We were as happy and proud of Santa's gifts
as any children could be, and had no doubt of
the existence of Santa Claus. The doughnuts
looked somewhat like a horse, and we had never
seen an elephant. The next thing that I recall
is a slight punishment for Sabbath breaking.
My father and mother were very pious God
fearing people and worshiped at the school-
house meetings, regardless of the denomination
of the preacher. My birthday came on Sunday
and it was thought by the other boys that some
thing should be done to celebrate it, so I was
provided with pole, line, hook and bait, and
caught a fine trout out of the brook running
through the farm. When I took it home in
great glee to show what I had done I was brought
face to face, for the first time, with the enormity

CHILDHOOD 11
of Sabbath desecration. It was a very serious
matter, and my father and mother held con
sultation over it. Finally, I was sentenced to
remain in the house all the balance of the day.
It made a great impression on me, which I have
never outgrown. I am a fisherman. I love the
sport and have fished all of my life, more or less,
but I have never fished on Sunday since my birth
day fishing and its punishment. I have done a
great many worse things than to fish on Sunday,
I have no doubt, but I have not done them on
Sunday. I could never bring myself to play
cards nor any other game on Sunday. While
I am not prepared to say that it is wrong when
not done in public, yet my father and mother
believed it to be wrong, and they were honest.
God-fearing people who not only had my love
and veneration, but my respect. Things began
to happen then that I recall very vividly. I
shall not relate them all, but only those that
impressed me most profoundly. Some two
hundred feet from the house was a well of water
without any curb or cover over it. My mother,
a gentle, quiet, sympathetic soul, with more
tears than temper, long-suffering and kind, had
a hard time with those overgrown, unruly half-

12 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
brothers of mine. There were three of them,
with about two years' difference in their ages, the
youngest about seven. They were not afraid
of my mother, and only feared she would tell my
father. He was more stern, and his most usual
effective argument was a stick or gad. My
mother was always afraid that I would fall in
this uncovered well, and she would run up to it
and look down, if I was out of sight and did not
answer her call. It was corn-hoeing time, and
warm. My father was in the field. The four
of us went to the well and they put my straw
hat down on the top of the water, and we all hid
in a big tansy bed near the house. Soon my
mother came out of the house and called us.
No answer. I wanted to answer, but there were
objections — I had learned that punishment for
disobedience to the boys was more swift and
certain than to mother. Then she ran up to the
well, and seeing my straw hat floating on the top
of the water, had no doubt but that I had fallen
in and was drowned. She ran rapidly to the
house. There was great merriment in the tansy
bed, but soon she reappeared with the dinner
horn and gave several sharp loud blasts. It
was only ten o'clock, but the horn brought my

CHILDHOOD 13
father hurrying to the house. We saw him
coming on the run. My mother met him — ^the
merriment had ceased in the tansy bed. He
heard her rapid explanation. He threw up his
head and gave one loud short call of "boys."
Instantly four heads like snakes rose up out of
the tansy bed. He looked at us a moment.
The heads were hanging low. Nothing was said.
There was an old hickory stump near, out of
which had grown up some straight hickory
sprouts or shoots. He took his jack-knife out
of his pocket and cut and trimmed a hickory
sprout about three feet long. He was deliberate
about it. There was no more merriment nor
suppressed laughter in the tansy bed; but, soon,
there was wailing and grief, and many tears.
A hickory sprout wielded by a strong man makes
an impression on a boy, especially in the summer,
when his clothes are few and thin. For some
time after that there were no more tricks played
on my mother.

CHAPTER II
My Sister's Mabriage
MY father came from Massachusetts in
1831 with his first wife and one
daughter. They drove and walked all
the way with one horse and a light wagon,
bringing various household goods. They settled
on an abandoned fifty acres of ground with a log
house and some five acres cleared, and hved there
all of their lives. Three sons and one daughter
were born there of the first marriage. One of the
daughters died in infancy. My younger brother
and I were the only children of the second mar
riage. I well remember when my half-sister was
married. There were very few neighbors. Most
of the land was covered with hemlock, pine,
beech, hickory, chestnut, oak, maple, ironwood
and other hard wood timber. Bear, wolves, deer
and panthers were occasionally seen. We lived
about five miles from the nearest village.
The wedding was hke other weddings in that
vicinity. The bridegroom was a strong, husky
young man. His belongings consisted of what
(14)

MY SISTER*S MARRIAGE IB
clothes he had and a double-bitted axe which he
could swing with great effect. But my sister
was given what was called a setting-out — a cow,
bed and bedding, cook stove, some dishes and
cooking utensils, a few chairs, etc. This was
the custom. The wedding was simple. An
itinerant preacher, who held forth on Sundays
in schoolhouses, performed the marriage cere
mony. There was no bridal veil, orange
blossoms, bridal tour, nor wedding presents.
My sister wore her best dress which she had made
herself. I did not notice any change in the
apparel of the bridegroom, except that he had
on a clean new flannel shirt and a new bandanna
neckerchief. They stood up in the spare room,
and the preacher performed the service. He
did not kiss the bride, nor did any one else —
kissing was not so customary then. I never saw
my father kiss my mother, hold her hand, nor
show her any endearing attention, although
they loved each other devotedly. I loved my
mother, and she loved me with a love that did
not die with her, and still lives with me, but she
never kissed me. The first time I was ever
kissed was by a neighbor girl while we were
gathering apples. I did not know what it

16 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
meant, but I did know that it was good, and I
wanted more of it. The preacher was satisfied
with his dinner and fifty cents paid him by the
bridegroom. Then the bride and groom, she
with a little bundle and he with his axe on his
shoulder, started on foot to their new home,
about five miles back in the woods, where he
had taken up an abandoned claim or tract of
sixty acres with a few acres chopped over and a
one-roomed log house. My sister's belongings
had been taken out there in the morning. That
night the customary horning was given by the
friends of the groom. No wedding was regarded
as properly constituted without it. The more
popular the bridegroom, the larger was the
attendance at the horning. It commenced just
after dark and consisted of every kind of noise
and racket that could be contrived. Old horns,
bells, tin cans, shooting of guns, cheers, yells,
and if rosin and a drygoods box could be
obtained, the horse fiddle was heard, and when
that was working nothing else was heard.
Powdered rosin on a drygoods box, over which
is pressed and drawn a fence rail, produced a
noise more diabolical, infernal and nerve-racking
than any other then known, and was regarded

MY SISTER'S MARRIAGE 17
as the star actor in a successful homing. It was
expected and welcomed by the wedded pair as a
proper tribute to them. I have known the bride
to complain the next morning because the horse
fiddle was omitted at the horning. This was
kept up imtil midnight, when cider was passed
out the door in pails with tincups, after partaking
of which the homers, calling good night, went
away. Next day came the infare at the home
of the parents of the bridegroom. This was
simply a gathering of the relatives of the bride
and groom, where a dinner was served and the
horning discussed, and the bride and groom were
looked over and inventoried and good wishes
expressed, after which they were expected to
jog along in their proper place in the community
without any further nonsense. I don't know
how old I was at this time. I may have been
six or seven years, but I remember it well. No
great preparations were made for the wedding.
I saw my father return from the village with a
wooden bucket holding twelve or fourteen
quarts of brown sugar. This was all that was
purchased for the occasion. My mother was a
splendid cook, and it was wonderful to see what
she could do with flour, butter and brown sugar.

CHAPTER III
Stone Soup
MY mother was a good cook. The
preachers always stopped with us, and
nothing pleased my mother better than
to cook for and feed them. Her stone soup was
famous. She had a round, smooth stone, about
as large as a baseball. She would place this in
a kettle with water, and boil it, adding flour,
salt, suet, pepper, onions or garlic, from time
to time, a few small pieces of fresh meat, sage
leaves and other seasoning. After several hours
she would take the kettle off the fire and we had
a fine stone soup. No one doubted the con
tribution which the stone made to the soup and
it was frequently borrowed by the neighbors.
It was the only soup stone in the neighborhood.
It was thought that there was some peculiar
composition in the stone which added to the
flavor of the soup. My mother was very proud
of it. One neighbor declared that she had tried
to make soup without the stone, using every
other ingredient, but the soup was not nearly
(18)

Amanda Howe Stone

Mother of William A. Stone

STONE SOUP 19
so good. My father used to laugh at the women.
He admitted that the stone in the kettle made
better soup, but not because it added anything
to the soup, but because the boiling water kept
the stone moving and constantly stirring the
soup; that any other stone would produce the
same result. My mother denied this. She
would not admit that any other round, smooth
stone would make just as good soup as hers —
and there I learned that it is human nature to
think that what we own is a little bit better than
things owned by others. I like this. I like to
hear men and women claim that their children,
their horses and everything they possess, is
superior to others. It is much more agreeable
than to hear them declare that what they have
is worse than others. I have never just settled
in my own mind whether my father or my mother
was right in their theory of the stone soup.

CHAPTER IV
The Pikery Bottle and Early Remedies
AND Doctors
WE lived simply and cheaply, but well.
Everything was cheap; whiskey was
only three cents a glass, and it always
stood on the sideboard with the pikery bottle.
The preachers helped themselves to the whiskey,
but rarely touched the pikery bottle. A person
had to be pretty sick to tackle that. It was a
dark liquid, made of aloes and a little of every
thing that had a bad taste. It was mixed on
the theory that the hair of the dog cures the
bite, and if you had a pain and took a dose of it,
you soon had a worse pain in front which dis
counted all others. I remember it well. It
was a tall bottle with a wooden stopper in it
and a string, one end of which was tied around
the top of the stopper and the other around the
neck of the bottle. My father and mother and
the neighbors had great faith in it, but all the
children hated it. I have often concealed and
denied illness rather than face the pikery bottle.
(20)

THE PIKERY BOTTLE 21
Doctors were few and far away, and housewife
remedies were used with usual good results.
My mother was a good nurse and doctor. She
gathered each summer boneset leaves, sage
leaves, rhubarb roots, lobelia, tansy, blue ver-
vine and many other herbs which she knew when
to give. In extreme cases the famous "hemlock
sweat" was administered. There was a large
kettle of boiling water into which hemlock leaves
were placed and the patient sat over it with
blankets drawn about in such a way that the
steam and evaporations from the boiling leaves
could not escape. A violent sweat resulted and
was generally suflScient to break up a bad cold
and put one in a normal condition. If the
pikery, hemlock sweat and other remedies
failed, then a doctor must be fetched from the
village. The roads were bad in spring and
winter and the doctors covered a wide territory,
and they were not much more successful in their
practice than our mothers. Any one could set
up as a doctor without college or office training,
and many did so. There were two schools,
allopathy and homeopathy, and opinion ran
high among the people as to which was the best.
Disputes grew furious, and sometimes people

22 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
who knew nothing at all about the theory or
merits of either school, came to blows. These
disputes were frequently fostered and fed by
the doctors themselves. But the doctors that
kept their mouths shut and did not talk much,
generally were regarded as the best. One
homeopathic doctor who never talked much
obtained a large practice. He would shake his
head or nod over his patients and never say
whether death or recovery would result, but he
possessed a rare natural sympathy and always
attended the funeral of his patients. This took
much of his time, but he was always on hand,
and the people thought highly of him. He
knew the merits of aconite and belladona, and
this was really all the medicine that he ever
gave, and all that he knew anything about.
He was supposed to be a very learned man.
He was an agreeable conversationalist because
he always listened, with looks and nods of
approval, and never said much. One day he
made a fatal mistake.
He had a call ten miles^ away and wrote on a
slate and hung it on his office door: "Gon too
Pin Crick, bak too nite. " One of his allopathic
competitors saw it and spread the news, and

THE PIKERY BOTTLE 23
before the doctor got back half the town had
read it. That ruined his practice. The people
could not forgive poor spelling. Those were
days of spelling schools or spelling matches,
when there were famous spellers in the land,
and men and women would stand up in rows
and spell each other down, and like Jeems
Phillips in the "Hoosier Schoolmaster," there
were men and women who, without much educa
tion, could spell correctly nearly every word pro
nounced to them. Inquiry into Doctor John
son's former history in the distant village from
where he came showed that he had been a
blacksmith, and, getting tired of it, he had
moved into our village, where he was not known,
and set up as a doctor. He had only three
things, silence, sympathy and some knowledge
of aconite and belladona, which were great
assistants. While there were good herb remedies
given that were generally sufficient for ordinary
colds and troubles, there was much faith in
foolish and ridiculous remedies. It was gen
erally beheved that the entrails of a black
tomcat bound around the inflamed part was
the best and quickest cure for erysipelas.
Pasture ball tea was beheved to bring the measles

24 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
out to the surface. Bleeding was in general
practice, and the turnkey forceps were used to
pull teeth. The neighborhood blacksmith bled
people and pulled their teeth at a shilhng an
operation. People were bled for being too stout,
and others for being too thin, and some were
bled regularly each month to prevent sickness.
There was no appendicitis, but there were many
fatal cases of bowel complaint. Since the
discovery of appendicitis I have not heard of
bowel complaint.
My mother had an eyestone for removing
dirt from the eye which was in frequent demand
in the neighborhood. It was a smooth white
stone about the shape and size of a half pea.
Dip it in vinegar and slip it into the eye. It
was supposed to find the dirt and attach itself
to it, and then slip out, bringing the dirt with
it. We all had great faith in it. It would
always remove the dirt unless it had become
fast in the eye. It passed from neighbor to
neighbor, and generally was in somebody's eye.

CHAPTER V
Matthew Blackwbll and Playing Indian
WE had a long-barreled, smooth-bore
rifle. It would shoot shot or bullets,
and we boys kept it busy. It was a
notorious kicker. It was a mooted question as
to which end of it was most dangerous. There
were squirrels and pheasants and, in the summer
and fall, many pigeons. I have seen a buck
wheat field at harvest practically covered with
them. The snow was deeper and more of it in
the winter and there was colder weather than
now. The pigeons are gone, and the deep snows
and cold winters. I don't know why it is, but
I know that it is so. There were brook trout
in all the streams, where now there are none.
A family moved into a vacant house which stood
in a hollow or ravine a short distance from our
house. Their name was Blackwell. The man
was tall and dignified in appearance, and very
courtly. He had a wife and several children.
They were poor, but proud and honest. Black-
well was sane from April to November, but in
(26)

26 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
the winter months he was afflicted with a mild
sort of delusion, and imagined all sorts of queer
things. In his normal hours conversation with
my father around the old fireplace showed a
knowledge of books and men, but when the cold
weather came on he would do strange things.
He had great belief in a hniment that he called
apedildock. He carried a bottle of it with him
and insisted on applying it to every neighbor's
ailment. He always wore a Prince Albert coat
and a stovepipe hat, well brushed, though much
worn, and talked every one into silence. Some
one gave him an old blind horse which had
outlived its usefulness, and which its owner was
too stingy to winter and too cowardly to shoot.
He bought for a trifle an old cutter or sleigh,
and with bits of leather and clothesline rigged
up a harness, and started down the creek road
in December, to cure the world of its ills with
his apedildock. While passing along the side
hill some forty feet above the creek the clothes
Une rein broke, and pulUng suddenly on the line
towards the creek, the old bhnd horse went over
the side, and horse, cutter and Blackwell, went
end over end, down the hill to the bottom of the
ravine. The cutter was smashed, the horse's

PLAYING INDIAN 27
neck broken, but Blackwell and his bottle of
apedildock escaped unharmed. He built a fire
on the bank of the creek and proposed to bring
the dead horse to life by the administration of
apedildock. He named the day and hour when
the miracle was to be performed, and the people
living near came to see it. The stream was
frozen and the horse also, but the old man went
through his rites rubbing the frozen horse with
the liniment and murmuring strange words.
But the miracle was not performed, and Black-
well, with much reluctance, was led away by
the kind-hearted people and cared for. In the
spring, when the snow was gone and the wild
flowers came and the bob-whites and whippoor-
wills were singing in the fields, it was hard to
stay in the house nights, and the mischievous
boys would gather at the corners just above old
man Blackwell's house. It amused them to
throw a few stones down onto the roof of his
house. He would come out and in loud tones
rebuke them and swear. One night my older
half-brothers stole quietly away and I followed
them. They discovered me and sent me home
with a pair of long-legged boots which one of
them removed, thinking they would be cimi-

28 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
bersome for fast running. But I slipped
along after them quietly. They met some
neighbor boys at the corners and going down the
hill road began to throw stones down on the
roof of Blackwell's house. They expected him
to come out and rant and swear as usual. But
they had delayed too long. The spring was too
far advanced. Blackwell had become normal;
on that night, at least, he had a lucid interval.
Instead of storming and swearing he took a
stick and quietly slipped along the fence, unseen
by them, and before they knew it he was among
them. They ran up the hill and I, not knowing
the cause, started out of the fence corner where
I was hid, and took after them. I was the only
one that Blackwell caught. I had not thrown
a stone, but that made no difference. I was
caught running. The stick fortunately was not
a heavy one. It was a thin piece of dry wood,
and it soon broke in pieces, and then he took
me by the arm and escorted me home. My
father responded to his knock, and opened the
door. Our boys had gone up a ladder, and got
in at the chamber window, and tossed the ladder
down into a bed of pie plant and were in bed
and apparently asleep, as evidenced by loud

PLAYING INDIAN 29
snores upstairs. Blackwell told his story.
When my father asked me if our boys were there,
I knew better than to admit it, and stoutly
denied it, telhng him they were Tyler's boys,
neighbor boys, quite as bad as ours. As Black-
well did not know who they were, my tale
might have been beheved, but my father
recognized the boots which I had been sent
back with, and which I still carried, one in each
hand. They were all snoring loudly upstairs.
He said nothing, but took down from a shelf,
where it was kept when not in use, a well-
seasoned hickory gad and hurried upstairs.
The boys were wakened. The snoring ceased,
and Blackwell went home satisfied, after listen
ing to the responses of forcible discipline for a
few minutes. As I had had mine from Black-
well, I was told to go to bed. His house was not
stoned after that.
After Matthew Blackwell moved away a
family moved in by the name of Johnson. He
was called Honey Johnson, because he once
stole a beehive, honey, bees and all, and was
caught with it. He was not prosecuted for it,
but was called Honey Johnson until people
really thought that was his name. They called

30 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
him Honey to his face without knowing what
it meant to him. His wife would call him
-Honey, but from my observances of them, I do
not think she called him Honey before he stole
the bees. If he had been a man of sensitive
nature that would have been a worse punish
ment than imprisonment, but he was not a man
of sensitive nature. Far from it. He was a
coarse, ignorant man, and his family were
coarse and very ignorant. He worked when he
could get work from the farmers, and work was
hard for him to get, as nearly all of the farmers
kept bees. He had three boys, ranging from
seven to twelve years ; none of the family could
read. Our boys loved the dime novel stories
of the Wild West, and especially tales of Indians.
They were familiar with many tales of burning
at the stake, war whoops and scalpings. It
was in the fall when elderberries were ripe,
Johnson's boys and our boys were out in the
woods where a windfall had made a clearing
and elderbushes grew. We were sitting on the
edge of this clearing. My oldest brother pulled
a novel out of his pocket and began to read a
harrowing tale about the Indians burning at
the stake three boys, taken in a settlement raid.

PLAYING INDIAN 31
The Johnson boys were excited and somewhat
wrought up. Quietly, one by one, my brothers
slipped away. In about fifteen minutes there
were loud yells and war-whoops, and my
brothers dashed out of the woods upon us.
The Johnson boys started to run, but were soon
overtaken and brought back.
No wonder they ran. Our boys had stained
their feet, legs, hands, faces and necks with
elderberry juice and stuck feathers, dropped by
flying birds, in their caps. They were Indians.
They tied their victims to small trees with
strips of leatherwood bark and began to gather
hmbs and sticks in front of them for a fire. The
prisoners beheved that their captors were
Indians. They had seized and tied me up to a
tree, and I was quietly told to cry and take on,
which I did, and four boys wailed and shrieked
out their grief. Soon the fires were kindled
amid the shrieks and groans of the victims, our
boys dancing around howhng and whooping
their loudest. It was great fun for them. They
had not thought of a rescue. They did not
suppose that Deerslayer or any of Cooper's
heroes were around, but there were rescuers.
There had been too much yelling, which, with

32 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
the smoke, brought help. My father was
working in the field not far away, and Honey
Johnson was helping him. They came running
into the clearing. They put out the fires and
cut the strings and hberated the prisoners.
Then my father cut something else — a young
tree, and trimmed it — about three feet long,
one-half inch at the butt, and tapering to a
point. Hurried explanations that they intended
to put the fire out, and were only in fun, were
of no avail. As the Johnson boys and our boys
followed their fathers home, it was a question
with me, whether our boys had suffered more
by the whipping than the Johnson boys by their
fright, but then I reflected that the Johnson
boys had had no compensation, while our boys
had had what they thought was great fun while
it lasted.

CHAPTER VI
Our Home Life
WE played games — ^baseball, hornaway,
I spy and others. Baseball was not
played as they play it now. We
called it sockball. The catcher or person having
the ball had to throw it and hit the running
batter. The ball was as hard as it is now, and
sometimes the fellow that was hit did not feel
like playing ball any more that day. There
was a neighbor boy of about my age with whom
I often played. His mother had made soft soap
and had put it in a barrel in the pantry beside
some empty barrels. As it was summer time
we had on only a shirt and thin trousers and
were playing I spy. While I was "blinding"
he ran away to hide and conceived the idea to
shp into an empty barrel and pull the cover over
him. Watching me to see if I peeked, he shd
the cover over and jumped into a barrel, the
barrel was not empty but full of soft soap.
He swallowed some and was scared and sick.
As they had no bath tub, they put him under
3 (33)

34 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
the pump and pumped water on him. When
his clothes were off and he was washed, he was
as red as scarlet. There was not a bath tub in
the neighborhood.
In fact, I never saw nor heard of one, until
after the Civil War. There were holes and
pools in the creeks where people used to bathe
in the summer time. When a woman or girl
took a towel and some soap and started towards
the creek, we boys were expected to stay in the
house, or if we went out, we were expected to go
in the opposite direction from the creek. In
winter they used wash tubs in their houses for
bath tubs, and some never had a bath except at
sheep washing.
My mother made all of our clothes, including
our caps. She not only made our clothes, but
she made the cloth out of which they were made.
We had sheep and after they were washed and
sheared the wool was taken to a carding mill
near Wellsboro, owned by a man named Jacob
Hiltbold, where it was carded into long, shm
rolls about three feet long, and about one-half
inch in diameter. These she would spin into
yarn on the spinning wheel which was to be
found in every farm house. It was a large

OUR HOME LIFE 35
wheel turned by hand, from four to five feet in
diameter with a band or belt around it, turning
a small spindle of the size of an ordinary lead
pencil. This yarn was colored in the blue dye
tub. The yarn was sent to my Aunt Chloe
Howe, who wove it into cloth on her loom.
My mother had no help except what we boys
did. She made our clothes, candy and soap.
She was a hard-working woman and knit our
socks, and my father cobbled our bopts, of
which we each had one pair in a year. In the
warmer months we went barefoot. Occasionally
when my mother was sick we had a girl come
from one of the neighbors to help, but she was
more of a guest than a hired girl. She sat at
the table, and the boys scrapped for the privilege
of escorting her to spelling schools and other
neighborhood entertainments.
The farm furnished us our living. Nothing
was purchased except tea, coffee, salt, pepper,
and a buckwheat-cake riser, called saleratus.
We had apples and cider in the cellar, and nuts
gathered from the forest — chestnuts, hickory-
nuts, butternuts, beechnuts — ^and during the
long winter evenings we spent the time before
the old-fashioned fireplace, we boys playing at

36 THE TALE OP A PLAIN MAN
checkers, fox and geese, or twelve men's morris.
My father read or cobbled our boots, while my
mother knitted or mended our clothes. Occa
sionally she would sing some Methodist hymn,
and then we were all silent. She had a sweet,
untrained voice, full of natural melody. The
blows of the hammer grew softer as my father
drove the pegs into the soles of the boots, and
our games ceased.
Then my father would read a chapter from the
old Bible, and we had family prayer. He
prayed for us all and for everybody else. Then
to bed, while he covered the wood fire with
ashes. His custom was to begin at Genesis,
and read a chapter in the morning and one in
the evening, straight through to the end of the
New Testament, and then begin again with
Genesis. There was no levity. We had to
kneel down and remain kneeling until he was
through, and if a boy went to sleep and had to
be awakened up when the service was over, it
did not matter. Before we got into bed we
had to kneel down in front of the bed and repeat
the Lord's Prayer and "Now I Lay Me Down
to Sleep," no matter how cold it was. I thus
contracted a habit of saying these prayers from

Birthplace and Boyhood Home

Delmar Township, Tioga County, Pennsylvania
Photograph taken in October, 1864

OUR HOME LIFE 37
which I have never been able to escape, and I
still have it. I believe in prayers. They may
not always be answered, but it is a great comfort
to the one who prays, and never did any one any
harm.

CHAPTER VII
Superstition
IN my early days philosophers, astronomers,
psychologists, Ernest Renan and Bob Inger-
soU, had not disturbed the settled conclu
sions of contented people. One after the other,
the beliefs of the people were altered. Grand
father Dean scouted the idea that the world
turned around in the night. He proved to me
its impossibility by pointing to a big stone on
the stump of a tree. If the world turned around
the stone would fall off, he said, but it was
always there. It seemed conclusive evidence to
me at that time. There were many people in
our vicinity who did not beheve that the world
turned around, or that it was round. I remem
ber that the selectmen of the township were
divided upon the subject; some held that the
world was flat and did not move. They
employed the school teachers and examined
them and passed on their qualifications to teach.
My father, having been a school teacher in
Massachusetts, was one of the selectmen. I
(38)

SUPERSTITION 39
remember hearing him tell about an applicant
for a school who was examined by the board.
One of the selectmen asked him whether he
taught that the world was round or flat. He
answered that he was prepared to teach either
round or flat, as the board desired. But
evolution of thought and science gradually
shattered the behefs of men.

CHAPTER VIII
Mass Meetings
I RECALL the Presidential campaign of
1856. Fremont, the pathfinder, was the
candidate of the new RepubHcan party
against Buchanan. The men would often get
up long before daylight and drive twenty miles
to hear David Wilmot speak at a Republican
mass meeting. Before the birth of the Republi
can party those who were not Democrats were
Whigs. The Whigs became Republicans. Fre
quently the Repubhcans and Democrats held
joint debates. First a Republican would speak,
and then a Democrat would speak. These
meetings were generally held in a neighboring
grove. John Simpson was a great Democratic
stump speaker, while Galusha A. Grow was a
noted RepubHcan stump speaker. There was
to be a joint debate between them at Osceola
Grove, twenty miles away. Nearly everybody
went, I with them. Simpson drove over with
friends and stopped at wayside hotels on the
way and when he got to the meeting he was
(40)

MASS MEETINGS 41
drunk. Grow was speaking before a great
crowd. Simpson was escorted to the rough
platform where Grow was speaking, and was
seated. He went to sleep, and during Grow's
speech vomited in presence of the audience, and
slept through Grow's speech. The Democrats
were disheartened and discouraged. Simpson,
their ideal, upon whom they had depended to
answer Grow, was drunk. There was no one
else to reply to Grow. But Grow made the
mistake of talking too long. Before he finished
Simpson had revived. He gradually began to
show signs of life, and when Grow finally con
cluded amid the cheers of the Republicans,
Simpson got up, and after a pause said : " Before
I proceed to reply to the speech of Mr. Grow,
I must first apologize to this splendid audience
for the disgraceful spectacle that you have
witnessed. No doubt you all thought I was
drunk, but I was not. I can never listen to a
Republican speech without becoming so deathly
sick that I must vomit. " He then proceeded to
make a splendid speech to the entire satisfaction
of his Democratic hearers. If Grow had closed
his two hours' speech thirty minutes earlier,
there would have been no Depaocratic speech.

CHAPTER IX
The Underground Railroad
IT was between 1856 and 1860 that I dis
covered that our house was an underground
railroad station. My father was a quiet,
reserved man and often concealed what he knew
instead of delighting to tell it. One night in
winter I came home from school and noticed an
air of mystery about my mother. I would
probably have suspected nothing if she had not
told me to keep out of the spare room. That
aroused my curiosity and I slipped outside and
saw through a hole in the window curtain, a
black man and woman sitting there. I had
never seen a colored person before. I asked
my mother about it, but only succeeded in
getting from her a command to keep quiet. But
I was watchful. That night about nine o'clock
my father took these people away in the sleigh.
There were no bells on the horses, as usual,
and no lantern. The next day my father came
home. I was full of curiosity, and beseeched
my mother to explain. She finally did so, after
(42)

THE UNDERGROUND RAILROAD 43
pledging me to secrecy. These colored people
were on their way to Canada and freedom.
They had been brought to our house the night
before by the keeper of the underground railroad
station twenty miles south of us, and my father
took them to the next station twenty miles north.
After that escaping slaves at our house were
frequent. My father was an anti-slavery man.
¦He read the New York Tribune and believed in
Horace Greeley, William Lloyd Garrison and
Fred Douglas. About this time I first read
"Uncle Tom's Cabin," by Harriet Beecher
Stowe, and many a night by the firelight I pored
over the story and wept at the wrongs of Uncle
Tom, Ehza and Little Eva.

CHAPTER X
Graveyard Ghosts
THERE was a graveyard on the top of the
hill on our farm, above our house. All
of my relatives are buried there, and
many of the neighbors. Briers and weeds had
grown up about the tombstones. I used to pull
them away and read the epitaphs on the stones.
I recall one: "Remember Friend, as You Pass
Bye, as You are Now, so Once Was I. As I am
Now, so You Must Be. Prepare to Die and
Follow me." I do not remember who was
buried there, but it does not matter. The
epitaphs were not usually selected by the
deceased, but by surviving relatives, and they
did not always express the character or views of
the one who slept beneath them. I early
became acquainted with ghost stories and have
been thrilled at their recital by some calling
neighbor, around the old fireplace at night.
Night is the only time that a ghost story should
be told. A ghost story told in the daytime
never has an appreciative audience. There have
(44)

GRAVEYARD GHOSTS 45
been many good people who have lived and died
in the behef that they had seen ghosts. My
father did not believe in them, but my mother
would have beheved in them if it had not been
for the influence of my father. I will never
forget old John Ainsley's ghost story of Richard
Duryea. Duryea hved alone in a large white
house on the Dean road. He had been a sailor
and was beheved to have been a pirate. In
those days a man's wickedness was estimated
by his profanity, and by that test Duryea was
a very wicked man. He never went to meeting
and never mixed with the neighbors. He had
boxes and rehcs of the sea and his profanity
was dreadful. He used to be heard singing
"Three Dead Men and a Bottle of Rum," and
another sea song about walking the plank. The
few preachers who went to see him barely
escaped without assault, and from all of this
the opinion prevailed that he was in league with
the devil, and he was avoided and shunned by
all. But he was taken ill and the old woman
neighbor who occasionally went to his house
to rid it up, reported his illness, and old John
Ainsley and Andrew Kriner went to see about it.
They found him very ill, and insisted on a

46 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
doctor, but he would not have one. The night
he died Ainsley and Kriner were sitting up with
him. It was a warm June night and they sat
in a room adjoining his. The door into his
room was open, and the door opening to the
porch was open. They were dozing when,
just as the clock struck twelve, they were
startled by seeing a black animal with sharp
eyes and quite a large body and short legs pass
in at the open door, pass through their room
and into Duryea's room. They heard Duryea
cry out in great fear. They rushed into his
room, meeting the animal coming out, but
Duryea was dead. Ainsley believed that the
animal was the devil after old Duryea.

CHAPTER XI
Midnight
I WAS very fond of horses, especially a young
colt which belonged to my father. I called
him Midnight, as he was as black as night.
He was only about five months old, and as I
took him sugar and petted him he grew fond of
me. I made him a little harness out of strips
of leather, cut from old boot legs and moosewood
bark, and used to drive him about hitched to a
little wagon. He was very gentle and seemed
to enjoy it. I would go to the fence and call
him and he would always come to me on the
run. He undertook to jump over a gate one
day to get to his mother and fell, injuring his
back, and for several days he lay on the barn
floor very sick, I was his devoted nurse. I
would help him up and hold him, while his
mother could nurse him, and then I would ease
him down, and he would lay and look at me with
eyes appealing for help, which I could not give.
He died and I grieved over him as I would over
the loss of a friend. In fact, that was the first
(47)

48 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
grief through death that came to me, and when
he was hauled away into the woods, I worked
with a shovel anddugj a grave and buried him.
I was not,^Bluch acquainted with services at
burials. /I was alone in the woods, but I felt
that some ceremony was required. I had no
book, but I knelt down over his body and tried
to say a prayer. I prayed "Oh! Lord, if there
is a Horse Heaven, let Midnight go to it. I
hope there is, as I want to see Midnight again.
Make me as a good a boy as Midnight was a
colt. " I had no audience, but a bluejay and a
woodthrush were singing, and I heard a squirrel
barking a base chorus. Then I shoveled the
dirt in, and afterward I set up a slab at the head
of the grave with his name, birth and death
upon it. Years afterwards I visited the spot,
but the slab and all indications of the grave
were gone.

CHAPTER XII
Boyhood
I DO not know at what age I ceased to be a
child and became a boy. Some children
never get to be boys, and some boys never
get to be men. They grow physically, but not
mentally. Some men never cease to grow
mentally until old age halts all growth, and they
live in reminiscence. I was always fond of
tricks and mischief, and readily saw the humor
ous side of things. There were mink and
muskrats along the creek that ran through our
farm, and in winter we used to set a box trap
for them. A mink's skin was worth from one
to two dollars; a muskrat's, fifty cents. A
box trap was simply a board box some two and
a half feet long by nine or ten inches wide and
deep, with a lid raised to let in the mink. Inside
was a stick to which meat was attached so that
when the mink went in and took the bait the
lid came down and he was a prisoner. We
could not see, but by moving the box could tell
if there was anything inside. If there was,
4 (49)

50 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
we would take the box and the dog into the
field, with each boy armed with a club,
when, slowly raising the Ud, the mink would run
out into the deep snow and we would strike
at him with the clubs, and if we missed him the
dog would get him. Then we clubbed him to
death, careful not to break or spoil his skin,
nor let the dog do it. One morning the trap was
sprimg and we carried it out where the snow
was deep, and dog and all gathered around.
The Ud was slowly raised, when, instead of a
mink, out jumped our old black cat. We
missed her with the clubs. She clawed the
dog's nose and made for a tree with her tail as
big as a muff, and that catch was a failure.
The dog was a friend of mine. I had a harness
for him and a pair of shafts attached to a sled,
and used to drive him and make him draw me.
In this I sometimes failed. I could not make
him pull me away from the house, but if I
would lead him and draw the sled to a distant
point away from the house, and then turn
around, he would draw me to the house. One
day there had been a rain on deep snow, and
then a sudden freeze which caused a hard, icy
crust. I got the dog and sled to the top of the

BOYHOOD 51
hill then got on the sled and started him down
the hill. The crust was like ice. The sled
outran the dog, and soon he was dragging behind
on his back, giving out howls of pain. I could
not stop the sled and we went on to the bottom
and far beyond; when we stopped and the dog
was helped up, he was greatly frightened, and
had lost much hair in his rapid ride down the
hill. My sister was living some five miles away,
and I frequently visited her. She was always
kind to me. There were several families hving
about her, and they visited each other and were
friends and neighbors. One day she had a
quilting party. The neighboring women came
in the afternoon, and they worked at a big
patch quilt spread on quilting poles. At night
their husbands would come, and all stayed to
dinner. I went out into the woods and found
a half-grown woodchuck. I cut some moose-
wood bark and tied it around him just back of
his shoulders and was able to lead him or draw
him. I did not want to kill him, and was trying
to think what to do with him, when I thought
of the quilting party. Women, then, as now,
were afraid of small animals that seek hiding

52 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
places when frightened. I knew those women
were all seated in the one room. The chimney
to the fireplace was big enough to let down a
much larger bundle than the woodchuck, and
so I succeeded in getting on to the roof of the
house with my woodchuck, and cutting the
moosewood strings, dropped him down the
chimney. I could hear them laughing and
talking, when suddenly, every woman screamed
and rushed from the house. The woodchuck
had captured the fort and took refuge under
the bed. Fortunately it was near quitting
time, and the men came in and caught the
woodchuck, and the women went back into the
house. I slid down and made my escape and
at dinner the woodchuck was the chief topic of
discussion. It was interesting to me to hear the various
explanations as to how the woodchuck got on
the top of the house and down the chimney.
Many theories were advanced. No one sus
pected me as an accomplice. I have often
wondered why. One man stoutly maintained
that a woodchuck could not climb a tree, and
could not climb a house. Another said a log
house was easier to climb than a tree. Then

BOYHOOD 53
they drifted into a discussion whether or not a
snake could climb a tree, and gradually the
mystery of how the woodchuck got on top of
the house was forgotten. I offered no opinion.
Being a boy, I was supposed to listen in silence
to my elders.
I have told about the graveyard on our farm.
It was seldom visited unless there was a funeral.
One night I had been to a neighbor's and took
a short cut home, coming over the hill by the
graveyard. It was moonlight. I saw what
appeared to be a woman standing in the grave
yard clothed in a long white garment. I had
never seen it before, and I ran home, thinking
it must be a ghost. Next morning I did not
mention it, for I knew that my father would
pooh-pooh the idea. But I went back and
discovered that the wind had blown the bark
from a tall hemlock stump. The sun and the
wind had bleached the wood inside of the bark
white, and the bark being blown away, showed
the white wood of the stump. Ever after that
I had no behef in ghosts, beheving that a proper
investigation would in all cases explain the
mystery. I attended the district school in summers

54 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
and winters. The old school house with its
great wood stove where we thawed out our
ink in the mornings still dwells in my memory.
Mischief was there. I recall John Tyler who
sat with Clay McCarty on the boy's side of the
schoolroom. John was a mischievous, fun-
loving fellow, and one day the school mistress,
seeing John and Clay cutting up in their seats,
caught John by the collar and hauled him up
in front of the school and began to whip him
with a gad or switch. He was laughing and the
harder she whipped him, the louder he laughed.
She finally stopped, and said: "John, what on
earth, are you laughing at?" John said, "You
are hckin' the wrong fellow." It seemed to
him such a good joke on the teacher. One
morning in summertime two or three of the
worst boys were early at school. There was a
chipmunk in the schoolroom, which they caught
and put in the stove. The teacher, as usual,
read a chapter in the Bible, and then offered a
httle prayer. Then she gathered the bits of
paper and litter from her desk in her apron, and
squatting down in front of the stove, opened
the door and flirted the litter into the stove.
As she opened the door, out sprang the chip-

BOYHOOD 55
munk, leaping over her shoulder. She went
over backwards with a scream. There was an
investigation, but no one knew anything about
it, and all escaped, including the chipmunk.
That schoolma'am was pecuhar and came from
the village. Chauncey Austin, who owned the
farm around the schoolhouse, was a school
director. So the teacher said that we must not
go into his meadow to pick strawberries. But
there were fine strawberries in his meadow and
they tempted me. I was fearful of the teacher,
and finding a beautiful green garden snake, I
thought to appease her by bringing it to her
ahve, and so when I came into the schoolroom
late, and was called up to explain why, I pre
sented her with this snake and I supposed she
would be pleased. It was a beautiful snake
and perfectly harmless, but she was not pleased.
She screamed and made me throw it out of the
door, and then she whipped me for trespassing
in Chauncey Austin's meadow, and I thought
she put it on a little harder on account of the
snake. I concluded then, and have never
changed my mind, that there is no use trying to
understand women at all. I had a full brother
three years younger than I and we went to the

56 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
district school together. The teacher required
every scholar to learn and speak a piece or write
a composition. My brother never could do
either, and through various excuses he avoided
this rule until the teacher had to enforce it on
him. She announced on Monday morning that
if he did not have a piece to speak or a com
position written on the following Saturday, she
would punish him. That meant whipping,
which was the only punishment. My father
fully approved the teacher's course, and there
was nothing for my brother to do but write a
composition, learn a poem or something in
prose, or take a whipping. He started in to
learn that poem which begins, "On Linden
when the sun was low," etc., and had it almost
committed. We had a queer, overgrown,
abnormal pup. On Saturday morning my
brother was diligently studying the poem which
he had cut out of a newspaper, and was holding
it in his hand. Suddenly the pup, without any
intimation of his intentions, opened his mouth
and swallowed the clipping. We had to start
for school, which was a mile away, and we
arrived at the schoolhouse a little late. The
teacher called my brother to recite or read a

BOYHOOD 57
composition. He got up and undertook to tell
the teacher that he had nearly committed "On
Linden when the sun was low," but had lost
it, and now could not remember any of it. The
teacher asked how he came to lose it and he said
the dog swallowed it, but she did not believe
him. He said that I saw him swallow it and I
got up and told the truth, and said I saw the
dog swallow it. She had never heard or read of
dogs taking to poetry, although she knew
something of doggerel from the crude poetic
effusions sent by her admirers. She whipped him
for not having a recitation or composition, and
she whipped me for lying. It was hard to bear,
for we were both innocent, as we beheved, but
we said nothing about it at home, for fear we
would be punished again, and we had doubt as
to just how to diagnose the situation.

CHAPTER XIII
Spiritualism
ABOUT this time came the so-called
r\ Rochester Knockings. There was much
in the papers about it. Rappings were
heard and so-called mediums pretended to open
conversation between hving and dead people.
Mrs. Tyler, one of our neighbors, an ignorant
woman, set up for a medium and pretended that
she could bring forth the spirits of dead relatives.
My father denounced the matter as ridiculous.
One night at home we all put our hands on a
small wooden table and held them there for
quite a while, and then, taking our hands off,
the table moved quite briskly for a few seconds
when no one touched it, and thus he convinced
us that there was nothing in spiritualism. I
can't see why we should beheve a demonstration
supernatural, simply because we cannot account
for it. Time and science unravel and explain
mysteries, and it is presuming and highly
egotistical to think that because we do not
understand a demonstration that it must be
(68)

SPIRITUALISM 59
supernatural. I know that my mother loved
me and is now watching over me. If there is a
Heaven she is in it. In times of doubt and
temptation, if she could come to me and advise
me she would come. It is wholly unnecessary
for me to pay fifty cents to a long-nailed, watery-
eyed, long-haired squaw man to get into com
munication with her. So, I have never believed
in spiritualism, and consequently have never
seen or heard any spirits. Only those who hunt
after spirits find them. I admit that many
strange things have happened, but why think
them supernatural, simply because we in our
ignorance do not understand them? The tele
phone, wireless telegraphy and other discoveries
ought to convince us that there will come a
time when all mysteries will be scientifically
explained.

CHAPTER XIV
Camp Meeting
THERE was no church building in our
neighborhood. Religious services were
held in the schoolhouse a mile away,
except in the summer time, when camp meetings
were held in the woods. The preachers were
itinerants, generally old men, who had no special
circuit or charge assigned them by any church
or conference, and were generally Methodists.
There was no denominational organization in
our neighborhood, and preachers and audience
were not sectarian. Most all of the preachers
were exhorters and revivalists. There was no
doubt in their minds about an actual hell with a
great lake of melted brimstone always burning
with fire. I have heard it described many
times. This lake of fire and brimstone was an
essential factor in every revival. It was most
potent at camp meetings in the summer time.
In the extreme cold weather of winter the people
were not so much afraid of hell. Some of them
who had hard work to keep warm were slightly
(60)

CAMP MEETING 61
inchned towards it, but in the summer time,
when the days and nights were hot, it was easy
to preach one into a dread of hell. The camp
meetings were popular and regularly held each
summer in McCarter's woods near the school-
house. There were usually four or five
Methodist preachers in attendance. The people
would all attend that Hved in the neighborhood
and many would come from a distance and
remain all night and while the camp meeting
continued. A few had tents, others had blankets
and sheets stretched over poles. There were a
few rough log huts erected by some of the more
zealous. There was a preachers' cabin or log
house. But many slept under the trees without
any covering. They did not mind it if it rained
and they got wet. It was a popular belief that
you should wear your wet clothes until they got
dry, and that you were liable to take cold if
you changed them, and then at that time of
year they did not wear so many clothes as in
winter, and it did not take them so long to dry.
Then there was the place occupied by the
preachers during the service. This was a
platform of loose boards some two feet higher
than the ground and covered by tent cloth or

62 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
boards. Three sides were closed, with the
front open, and a bench or table stood on the
front end of the platform. Outside in front was
the audience, some seated on chairs and benches,
and some on the ground. The singers were
ranged in front, generally on the right of the
preachers, on seats that were provided for them.
Some of these preachers were successful
exhorters, and their appeals were affecting and
effective. Their pictures of Hell and Heaven
were masterly, and brought many persons to the
anxious seat to confess their sins and obtain
forgiveness. These meetings did much good.
Many persons were converted and most of them
remained converted and lived better lives after
wards. There was no church bell to bring the
audience together, but a large boat horn was
used. It was about three and a half feet long,
very small at one end, and about three inches
across at the other. A person skilled in its use
could make a noise on it that could be heard a
great distance. They were used on canal boats,
which was the usual public conveyance for long
journeys in many parts of the country. The
preacher. Elder Beebe, whose duty it was to blow
this horn at the camp meeting in 1855, was

CAMP MEETING 63
especially fitted for the task. He had great
lung power and was very tall, fat and heavy.
One evening service when the meeting was a
week old and there had been many converts
Elder Beebe stood up before a large audience
and blew his horn. A mischievous scamp had
gotten the horn and placed in the big end a
quantity of thin soft soap, putting a weak paper
over the big end and tying it lightly with a small
thread. Instead of the usual loud blast that
set sinners quaking with fear, there was a
smothered sort of a sputter and all those sitting
on the front rows of seats got a baptism of soft
soap in their eyes, faces and hair. There was a
panic, as no one knew just what had happened,
and some time was required to wash off the soap.
No one knew who had done it. The preachers
were loud and emphatic in their condemnation
of the wicked miscreant who had soaped the
horn. None were more violent in condemnation
than Elder Beebe, who thought it a most heinous
crime. A few nights afterwards when the
services were over and the penitents were groan
ing on the anxious seats, Elder Beebe found a
man who was suffering deeply with remorse and
groaning in anguish. The elder put his great

64 THE TALE OP A PLAIN MAN
big hand on the man's shoulder and said, " What
is it, my brother?" • The man groaned the
louder. "Have you stolen something?" said
the elder. "Oh, worse than that," was the
response. "Have you committed forgery?"
"Worse than that," was the reply. "Have you
committed murder?" "Oh, worse than that,"
said the man. Elder Beebe took off his coat
and handed it to another preacher, saying,
"Here brother, hold my coat, I have found the
man that soaped the horn." A confession of
sin meant something more than holding up the
hand. It meant that you had to stand up before
your neighbors and tell the sins that you had
committed; not all of them, but the ones that
were pressing upon you the hardest. The
Lord, through the preacher, forgave, and then
if the sin was against another, he or she forgave,
not daring to be less forgiving than the Lord.
I remember hearing a neighbor, Amos Tyler,
say one morning when he was told that Hark
Furman had confessed his sins the night before,
"I wish I had been there; I would have found
out who stole my horse." You could question
the sinner at his confession. These preachers
were nearly all good men and lived the lives

CAMP MEETING 65
they preached. They did much to educate and
civilize the country. Old Father Sheardown
preached in our neighborhood on several occa
sions. He was a most noted evangehst and
believed in an actual hell. They did not cavil
or dispute about it with educated men. The
Bible told them there was a hell, and that was
enough for them. They could not see the need
of a Heaven without a Hell, and to give up their
belief in one meant to give up their belief in both.
They preached that there never was discovered
a tribe or nation or race that did not have a
rehgion or future behef, and in all of them were
future rewards and punishments. They judged
the plans of the Creator for the future by a study
of his plans seen in this hfe. They saw in all of
his plans here, a penalty for every violation of
his laws. They saw no remission of these
penalties. They came as a natural consequence
of -violated law. They said a man may study
the works of great painters and architects until
he can tell their work without knowing whose
it is, and a study of natural laws made by God
gives no assurance or ground of belief that they
will be different in plan in future Hfe than they
are in the present Hfe. They believed that there

66 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
could be no great natural desire to go to Heaven
except to escape Hell, and that God never did a
vain and fooHsh thing, and it would be vain and
foolish to create a Heaven without a Hell. That
if there is a future Hfe to us we must have
memory of our Hfe and history here, and that,
as many die in their sins without repentance
and forgiveness, a future punishment is not only
natural but necessary for conformance to and
with every act of the Creator as disclosed to us
in this life. This kind of doctrine converts men
and women and creates revivals. In fact, it is
the only doctrine preached that has ever brought
about a revival. They did not go about apolo
gizing for the sayings in the Bible. They
believed and enforced their belief upon others.
If Sunday and Stough, and the other evangelists
would stop preaching hell, their congregation
would diminish and revivals and conversions
would cease. Our preachers did a fooHsh and
impolitic thing when Robert G. IngersoU ridi
culed and frightened them into doubts about hell,
so that they stopped preaching it. We might as
well strike the penalties out of our penal code as
to try by persuasion alone to reform people.
I believe that fear of punishment wields a great
influence in preventing sin and crime.

CHAPTER XV
Baptism by Immersion
THERE were many Baptists in the com
munity, but I never made any examina
tion of the difference between their creed
and that of the Methodists. It was generally
believed that sprinkhng and immersion was the
only difference. I presume I would have been
a Baptist if it had not been for one incident.
I had a cousin two years older than myself.
He "experienced religion," as it was called, at a
revival conducted by a Baptist preacher in the
schoolhouse. I stayed at his house one night
when his experience was new to him. We slept
together and he talked to me and prayed over
me until I got it too. That is, I felt a sort of
strange new peace and happiness never felt
before. At that time I was ten years old and I
went home and told my mother that I wanted
to be baptized with my cousin. She told my
father, and my brothers heard them talking about
it. After my father left the house, we boys all
wandered into the field back of the barn where
(67)

68 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
the sheep dam was. The water was about four
feet deep and very cold. My oldest brother
had the horse book with him and said that he
understood that I wanted to be baptized. I did
not answer, so they all gathered about me. A
chapter on how to doctor a sick horse was read,
and then I was led out into the sheep dam and
baptized, not sprinkled, but immersed, not once,
but several times, and they were dehberate about
pulHng me up. I was then informed that if I
told about it, the ceremony would be repeated
more thoroughly. I went home, with an excuse
that I had fallen in the creek. Next morning
when my mother asked me about being baptized,
I informed her that I had changed my mind and
that when I was baptized I would be sprinkled,
not immersed. My cousin, Wesley Howe, was
baptized. An epidemic of diphtheria soon
afterwards prevailed in the neighborhood, and
he with his younger brother Oliver died of it.
In nearly every family where there were children,
one or more died from this scourge, and in some
famihes three and four died. Those that
recovered were for months afterwards unable
to walk. I had a bad attack, and would have
died had it not been for the skill of our family

BAPTISM BY IMMERSION 69
physician. Dr. N. Packer. My throat was filled
with a poisonous membrane, so I was kept
stimulated with whiskey, which counteracted
the poison. For a long time after I was able
to go out, I had to hobble about with a cane.
Antitoxin was unknown then, and the disease
was generally fatal.

CHAPTER XVI
Called Preachers
A SA DODGE was quite a successful Bap-
AA tist exhorter. He had no education, read
very badly and could scarcely do more
with a pen than sign his name. He would stand
up before an audience and tell how the Lord
called him to preach. He believed it, and had
an earnest way of telHng it that made his
audience believe it. His story was that when
he was a young man he was sick with fever and
had been given up to die. He had been very
wicked and expected to die and go straight to
hell, and as he was gasping for breath, the Lord
called him, saying, "Asa, if I cure you, will you
preach?" He whispered, "Lord, how can I
preach? I have no education and I am a
miserable sinner," when the Lord called again,
saying, "Asa, if I cure you, will you preach?"
His breath grew fainter and fainter. He could
not see and had just life enough left to whisper,
" Yes, Lord, I will try. " He grew rapidly better,
and when he was weU, he started out to fill his
(70)

CALLED PREACHERS 71
contract. It was generaUy beheved that people
were called by the Lord to preach, and those
who could not claim that they were so called,
did not impress an audience so favorably. The
most of them needed such an excuse for preach
ing, for they were generally uneducated and
poor speakers, and read the Bible with great
effort, often making blunders. They were all
caUed elders, no matter to what church they
belonged. Elder Decker was a very poor
reader. He was a very tall man, and one night
he was reading, or attempting to read, a chapter
in the Old Testament, holding the small fine-
print Bible in one hand and a tallow dip in the
other, high in front of him. He got to the last
line on the page, reading, "and he took unto
himself a wife, " when the tallow, burning down
to his fingers, burned them and he dropped the
dip. He reached down and picked it up. The
leaves of the Bible had whipped over into the
story of the construction of the ark. He knew
that he must begin at the top of the page and
he read, "and he pitched her within and without
with pitch. " There was a suppressed titter in
the audience, and he reahzed his mistake, and
tried to find the place that he was reading from.

72 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
when he dropped the dip, but could not, and
so he went on with the service without attempt
ing to read any more. On another occasion, he
read, "The Lord shot Job with four balls," for
the hne, "The Lord smote Job with sore boils."
He would sometimes improvise and guess at the
words. It was told of him that on one occasion
he read, "The Angel came down from Heaven,
took a Hve colt by the tail and jerked him out
of his halter," for "The Angel came down from
Heaven and took a live coal and placed it on
the altar." But Elder Decker was much
respected. He led an honest, exemplary life,
and his influence was always for good.
Robert Kelsey was another "called preacher. "
He stuttered and stammered badly. He was
not called until he reached middle Hfe, and at the
time was a farmer on the outskirts of the village
of Wellsboro. On two or three mornings when
he was in the barn attending to his stock, in the
spring of the year, and the haymow was fed
down low so that the cracks of the barn admitted
sound and Hght, he heard a voice saying,
"Robert, Robert, I am calhng you. Will you,
oh, will you, Robert?" He was a stout Baptist
and believed that he had heard a call from the

CALLED PREACHERS 73
Lord to preach. His father-in-law, Mr. Trull,
was also a Baptist, and very religious, so they
consulted about it. They thought it was a call
from the Lord, but what did it mean ? They had
never heard of the Lord calHng upon anybody
except to preach. Several preachers had been
called. None of them stuttered, but Kelsey
had a better education than the most of them.
They thought that the Lord would help him to
speak, and so Robert Kelsey started out to
preach. The meeting was announced by the
school teacher, and Robert was on hand, as was
also a good audience who knew him. The
Lord did not help him any, but he persevered
and tried to preach at other meetings. The
audience was quiet and respectful. They
beheved that the Lord called people to preach,
but why call Kelsey? FinaUy, the calHng of
Robert Kelsey all came out. Old Ann Simmons
Hved in a little house near Kelsey's barn. In
the spring her cow had a calf, and Ann had,
with a few boards and rails, built a Httle leanto
or shed against Kelsey's barn, to break the wind
for the calf. In appreciation of her neighbor
she had named it Robert. She had taught it to
drink out of a pail, and while restraining its

74 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
zeal and efforts to put both forefeet in the pail
with his head, she would talk to him, calHng him
by the name she had given him. It was her
voice that Kelsey heard. He did not know she
was there, or that the calf was there. She sold
the calf soon after he heard the voice, and
removed the boards and rails. When this story
came out Robert stopped preaching.
There was a schoolhouse, by this time, in my
sister's neighborhood. Eider Avery Kennedy
had moved on to a farm there with his family,
which consisted of five or six boys and as many
girls. He was a small, old man, very thin and
lean and feeble, but he was a famous exhorter,
and preached in the schoolhouse. I have seen
him wrapped in a quilt brought to the service
in a wagon. They would help him out with the
aid of a chair, and then lead him into the school-
house. He would sink down into his seat
behind the big pulpit desk very much exhausted.
He was emaciated, and could not have weighed
over one hundred pounds.
He would slowly get to his feet, lay the book
down upon the desk, and, holding to the desk
with one hand, would slowly read in a halting,
small, feeble voice. Then he would pray and

CALLED PREACHERS 75
announce the hymn. The singing was hearty and
zealous and some of them sang well, and their
voices were full of melody. Then the preacher
would take his text, announcing it with much
solemnity. When he began his sermon he could
hardly be heard, so low and weak was his voice,
but as he proceeded his voice grew stronger and
louder and he began to make gestures. He
would move about in the pulpit with firm steps,
and at the middle of his sermon you could hear
him at a considerable distance from the building,
and one could hardly believe that it was the
same man who was helped into the pulpit.
Finally, he would slow down, and at the close
of his sermon he would ask some brother to
pray; then he would sink back into his seat to
be carried out and bundled up in his quilt when
the service was over. I could not understand it.
I do not understand it now. The behevers
thought that he was filled with the power of
the Holy Ghost. Maybe he was — who knows?
They had no doubt that he was called. He
Hved and died an honest, sincere man, setting
an example that was beneficial to all.
There were skunks about, but there was only
one market for them. Old Tommy Horten, who

76 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
Hved a half mile away, was afflicted with
rheumatism and beheved that skunk oil was
the best remedy for his complaint and used to
pay twenty-five cents for a dead skunk. Occa
sionally we would catch one in a trap set for
some other animal. We would shoot it or kill
it with long poles, keeping well out of range of
its fire and far enough from it to prevent contact.
Then we would get a moosewood bark string
fast to it and drag it over to old Tommy, and
get our twenty-five cents. He would try out
the oil himself. He did not have many visitors,
and the calls upon him were brief. You could
locate his house a long distance away in the
darkest night. No one ever went there unless
he had a bad cold in his head and a strong
stomach. He lived alone, and when he died
the funeral was only attended by his nearest
relatives. The services were very brief. They
dug his grave deeper than usual, and after he
was lowered in the grave, it was rapidly filled
in with dirt.
We had neighbors named Wills. Mrs. Wills
was pecuhar, and said and did many things that
caused talk in the neighborhood. She washed
the dishes in the trough after they had scalded

CALLED PREACHERS 77
the hogs in it on butchering day. I was there
one morning just after they had been to break
fast. Her son Bill had caught a rat in a trap
the night before. It was winter and pans of
milk were on shelves in the living room to keep
from freezing. Bill had hold of the dead rat's
tail, and was swinging it in the air when the
skin slipped off the end of the tail and the rat
landed in a pan of milk. Mrs. Wills was angry.
She said to Bill, "Now, see what you have done.
I have got to strain that milk over again,"
which she proceeded to do, putting the pan of
milk back in its place.

CHAPTER XVII
Father McGovern
FATHER McGOVERN was a kind soul.
He was much loved by Protestants as
well as Catholics. His church and par
sonage were near a saloon kept by Jimmie
Reardon. One old Irish Catholic, Dan McDade,
attending service one afternoon, had in his pocket
loose a five-dollar gold piece and a copper
two-cent piece, and when the plate was passed
around he put the two-cent piece on it, or thought
he did. It was dark in the church. After the
service was over Dan went into Jimmie
Reardon's saloon, and planking his five-doUar
gold piece down on the bar, told Jimmie to give
him some of the rare old stuff. Jimmie looked
at the coin, saying, " You can't buy a drink with
two cents." "What?" said Dan. "Oh!" he
said, as he saw the coin. "Oh, my! Oh, my!
I gave the Lord the wrong piece. Oh, my!
What will I do?" Jimmie said, "Go over to
Father McGovern and explain it. He will know
that you never intended to put five dollars on
(78)

FATHER McGOVERN 79
the plate, and as there will be only one five-
doUar piece on the plate he will give it up to you
and take your two cents." "Oh," says Dan,
"I must do that; but, Jimmie, won't it bring
bad luck to take back anything given to the
Lord?" "But," says Jimmie, "you know that
you did not intend to give it. It was a mistake.
Father McGovern will understand." "Oh,
well, I will, " says Dan, and started across the
street to the church, muttering to himself,
"Bad luck. I don't like it. I am afraid."
When half-way to the parsonage he stopped,
provoked and disgusted at his mistake, and
turned about, saying, "I gave it to the Lord;
let him keep it. To hell with it." Jimmie
trusted him with a drink of the rare old stuff*
and Dan went home to explain to his wife.
Father McGovern was full of kindness, sympathy
and charity. He would have given Dan back
his gold piece and assured him that the Lord
would not hold it against him. Father McGov
ern loved to do quiet, charitable things without
letting it be known who the giver was. One
day as he was walking along the, street he saw a
little girl poking among the leaves and crying.
He stopped and asked her why she was crying.

80 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
She told him through her sobs that she had
been to the store to get something and received
a dime in change, and had dropped it, she
thought, in the leaves. The good father got
down on his knees and tried to help the child
find it. He knew her family was very poor and
would miss the dime. He had one in his
pocket, but if he gave it to her, that would not
excuse her offense of carelessness at home, and
she might be punished if she did not return and
find the dime. After poking among the leaves
for some time, he managed to slip the dime from
his pocket into the leaves where the girl was
looking, and she found it, and the father was well
repaid to see a sobbing, grieving child turned
into a happy one, as she said, "Now, Father, I
won't have to tell about losing it, will I?"
"No, my daughter. God knows it, and your
mother has suffered no loss; but you must not
be so careless again." She assured him she
would not and ran home, glad of heart.

CHAPTER XVIII
Johnny Smoker
AS I recall this period of my Hfe, there seems
/~\ to be little worth relating. I worked
for the neighbors, as did my brothers*
when we could get work in the summers, and
in the winters at cutting and peeHng logs in the
woods. I got only boy's wages, but I was tall
and strong and could do a man's work when
quite young. Some of us were always at home
helping my father. The farm was small and
he did not need all of us, but we always had a
welcome home whenever we came back.
One old Dutch neighbor lived alone on a small
farm of twenty acres. He kept a horse, a cow
and a dog. We called him Johnny Smoker.
I don't remember his real name. He was noted
for odd remarks. One fall a revival took place
in the schoolhouse. Johnny did not attend the
meetings, but some of his neighbors, who were
interested, warned him that if he did not repent
of his sins, hell was sure for him. Johnny did
not know of any sins that he had committed.
6 (81)

82 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
He was honest, harmed no one, but he seemed
to accept the statement that when he died he
would go to hell. One evening, after he had
plowed all day in a cold and drizzling rain, he
put up his horse and came into his house wet
and cold, and raked down his fire in the fireplace.
The dog lay asleep on the warm hearth. As he
sat with his hands spread towards the fire, looking
at the dog, he said, "Why was I not a dog?
The dog runs and plays when it is warm and the
sun shines. He barks at the birds and is happy,
and when it rains he comes into the house and
sleeps on the warm hearth. He has no work,
no trouble, no debts, no taxes, and when he dies,
he is dead. That is the end of the dog. But
I have to work hard. I have to pay my debts
and my taxes ; I have no play, no rest, and then
when I die I got to go to hell, yet. "
Frequently we used to change work. We
would all go to a neighbor and help him in corn
or potato hoeing, or haying, or corn husking,
and he would come to us and help us an equal
number of days with his boys. One neighbor
with whom we frequently exchanged work was
old John Francis. He had many sons, Robert,
John, Ephraim, WilHam, James and Norman,

JOHNNY SMOKER 83
and one more whose name I cannot recall. They
were full of tricks and mischief, and had to be
disciplined with the rod frequently. One eve
ning old John and his wife were at our house.
The boys were at home and it was winter time.
They had an old-fashioned fireplace with a stone
hearth which was cracked in many places and at
night crickets would run over the hearth and
chirp if it was quiet. There was no one at home
but the boys, and one of them suggested that
they blow up the crickets. They took down the
powder horn and placed a small row of powder
around the hearth and placed Httle crumbs of
bread along on the powder. Then they all got
into a corner, and one, standing around behind
the chimney jamb, took the tongs and picked
up a coal of fire and was going to connect it
with the powder, when they heard their father
and mother at the door. The coal was dropped
about an inch from the powder, when in stamped
the old folks. The boys had delayed their
experiment too long. They held their breath,
while the old man and woman pulled up their
chairs in front of the fire. The crickets were
feeding on the bread. The light was dim. The
old man's chair post was just in front of the coal.

84 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
If only he would not shove back his chair until
the fire in the coal went out, but he shoved back
his chair while there was still fire in the coal.
There was a sharp explosion and the old man and
woman made rapid revolutions in the air.
They got up somewhat frightened, but not hurt.
Without a word, the old man took down the
rod. There was suddenly much chirping, but
it was not the crickets that chirped.
There was no barber in our vicinity. Each
family cut its own hair and the men shaved
themselves. The wife and mother generally
did the hair cutting, which was only cut when
it got too long. A bowl or tin pail was put over
the head, and the cutter cut to the rim of the
bowl or pail. Old Elisha McCarty, who lived
near the schoolhouse, was a queer, eccentric
man, who loved to quarrel with his wife and his
neighbors. He did not appreciate anyone who
would not quarrel with him. Fortunately, his
wife was equal to the occasion, and satisfied his
want in this respect. He used to cut his own hair;
standing before a mirror, he would reach around
and with a pair of sheep shears, clip off locks
of his hair, and then tell that his wife would not
cut his hair. He did not usually do a good job

JOHNNY SMOKER 85
as his own barber, and he loved to blame it on
his wife. Of course, a person could cut another's
hair better than he could cut his own. A string
was sometimes tied around the head and the
cutter cut square around to the string. But it
did not make much difference. The heads all
looked about alike. Some men let their hair
grow long, just to be eccentric. My mother cut
my father's hair, and also cut the hair of all of
us boys. I used to think that she was more
successful at it than any other person in the
neighborhood.

CHAPTER XIX
Local Politics
WHEN I was thirteen years old I began
to realize that the politics of the
township centered in my father,. I
saw men coming to our house before the town
ship elections to talk with him. He was the
best educated man in the township of Delmar,
and the best known man. I often heard the
talk. I noticed that my father rarely com
mitted himself to any man's candidacy. But
for two or three nights before election he would
write out tickets or ballots, and on election day
he was there early and passed around among the
voters, foUowed by me with his ballots or tickets
in my hat. He said little, but pointed to my
hat, and men would take their tickets from me.
His ticket was usually elected by a comfortable
majority. He held the offices of town clerk and
treasurer, town assessor, justice of the peace
and school director for years. He was always
re-elected. There were no laws in those days
(86)

IsBAEL Stone

William A. Stone's father was born in 1802, died 1887,
and lived nearly sixty years on his farm
Photograph at 80 years of age

LOCAL POLITICS 87
making offices incompatible, and he might have
held all of the offices of the township, and been
a Poo-Bah, if he had desired. There was no
money used to influence voters. I never saw
or heard of the expenditure of a cent in our
township for votes. My father did not dispute
with any one the merits of candidates. He
was a good Hstener. He simply heard all that
the candidates had to say, and wrote out his
tickets for the man that he considered the best
quahfied for the office. He wrote the wills of
all the neighbors, and, as executor, administered
upon their estates. No one doubted his word
or disputed his decisions. He was executor of
the estate of Chauncey Austin. There was a
pair of bridles in Austin's barn that I very much
wanted to see on our horses, and so, thinking that
my father was in charge of things, I brought
them home and told him about it. I had to
carry them back and put them just where they
were when I took them.
It was approaching the Presidential election
of 1860. John Brown had made his raid into
Virginia and had been hung for it. The great
debates between Stephen Douglas and Abraham
Lincoln were eagerly read by my father to the

88 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
Hstening neighbors. Hugh Young's letters from
Kansas to the New York Tribune were spreading
patriotism, or rekindHng it, throughout the land.

CHAPTER XX
The Civil War
WE were approaching a crisis. The
Union was threatened. The country
was on fire with the issue of slavery
when Abraham Lincoln was elected President
of the United States. I remember the cartoons
of the rail-splitter and the roustabout flat-
boatman. I remember the division of the
Democrats, their certainty of Lincoln's defeat,
the great mass meetings of both parties, the
steady, strong blows of Horace Greeley in his
Tribune, the desire to attend the poHtical mass
meetings, the election of Lincoln, his journey
to Washington, the riots at Baltimore, and the
events that led up to his first call of 75,000
volunteers. I remember the fall of Fort
Sumter and the withdrawal of Southern men
from the United States Army to join the Con
federacy. I was fifteen years old when Lincoln
was inaugurated. Two of my half-brothers
answered Lincoln's call and became members of
that famous regiment — ^The First Pennsylvania

90 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
Bucktails — ^under General Thomas L. Kane. I
wanted to enlist; I was big enough, but not old
enough. They were more careful about enhst-
ments in the early days of the war.

CHAPTER XXI
Girls
I WENT to school in the winter months and
worked on the farm in the summer. I had
grown up with older half-brothers who
treated me very much as Joseph's brethren
treated him. I had never paid the slightest
attention to a girl. I knew that the least demon
stration of this kind would subject me to ridicule
on the part of my brothers. I was tall and
husky, and other boys paid attention to girls
and went home with them nights from singing
schools and spelling schools, and I began to
reahze that it was up to me to start out. I was
just as anxious about it as any one, but I was
afraid of girls. I was spending the first winter
of the war with my sister. There was a man
teaching singing school in the schoolhouse on
each Friday night and I went occasionally, and
observed that after the school was over each girl
had an escort or beau to see her home. I was
as big as any of them, and I began to think that
it was expected of me to go home with some girl
(91)

92 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
from this singing school. I felt it to be my duty.
I had never gone home with a girl, although I
was nearly sixteen. There was one girl, Fannie
Sherman, who lived with her father and mother
and younger brother on a new claim or farm
in a log house about a mile beyond the school-
house in the opposite direction from my sister's
house. It was in early April. The snow had
lain deep all the winter, but it was now melting
under the influence of soft rains and warm suns.
I made up my mind, after deep and mature
reflection, that I would go home with Fanny
Sherman on the coming Friday night from
singing school. I reached this conclusion about
Wednesday. It was a serious undertaking, and
to me approached with more serious apprehen
sion than going to war. She knew me and I
knew her, as everybody knew each other. She
was a sweet, pretty girl, and was very popular
with all the boys. Why I should pick her out
I do not know. But then I always wanted the
best, and I thought she was the best. All day
Thursday, as the time approached, I was very
nervous and much perturbed. My appetite was
poor; I slept poorly Thursday night. Friday
was a day of imrest. I scarcely ate anything.

GIRLS 93
and sat in a sullen, reflective mood until my
mother thought I was sick and took down the
pikery bottle. Then I had to declare that I was
not sick, for a dose of pikery would have upset
me physically as well as mentally for my task.
I carefully greased my boots and oiled my hair
with bear's oil, scented with bergamot. I had no
coUar, but my bandanna neckerchief was clean.
I ate no supper. I started early. I did not
belong to the class, and took a seat in the back
part of the schoolhouse. The singing school
began. The teacher put the class through the
scales. They sang, "Three blind mice — three
bhnd mice. They all ran after the farmer's
wife. She cut their tails off with a carving
knife. Three blind mice." I looked hard at
Fanny, but she did not notice me, and this song
or exercise of Three Blind Mice kept running
through my head until I could think of nothing
else. I was faint and weak from hunger. I
had no definite plans of how I was to go home
with her. I knew there were a dozen anxious
to go home with her. I was fortunately not
afraid of any of them. I was afraid only of her.
I did not fully understand nor think how she
was going to do it, but I felt she could annihilate

94 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
me easily. I can not now account for this fear.
When school was out, I wedged my way to her
and kept between her and the other fellows that
were crowding up to her. I did not ask to go
home with her. I knew she would say no, but
I had desperately resolved to do so, kill or cure,
survive or perish, and so I just elbowed the
other fellows away. She looked at me, startled
and surprised, but she had to go home, and I
was the only one near to her, and so we started.
When we were well started, she said, "Will,
are you trying to go home with me?" I denied
it and said, I wanted to see her brother about a
steer yoke which we owned in common. She
said, "All right, come along." She seemed
relieved when I said I was not going home with
her. There was a ridge of snow between the
two paths where the horses trod and I could not
get very close to her. I was thankful for that,
as I would not have dared to offer her my arm or
touch hers; she seemed to think that I was not
going home with her, but simply going to see
her brother. It was very dark, with thick woods
all the way to her house. When we got there,
I said, " Good night, Fanny, " and turned to go
home. She said, " I thought you wanted to see

GIRLS 95
my brother? Come in," and in I went. My
elation at having accomplished the feat of going
home with a girl was cooled by the fact that
she did not realize that I had gone home with
her at all. The boy was not in and I was seated
behind the cookstove. Her father and mother
were nice to me. They had had a late dinner
and were waiting supper until Fanny got home.
On the stove, just in front of me, in a frying pan
or skillet with a long handle extending out from
the stove, was some fresh tenderloin pork frying,
seasoned with sage leaves. It was very appe
tizing and I was very, very hungry. Her father
asked me questions about our folks which I
answered as best I could, somewhat frightened
at the enormity of my crime in trying to go home
with a girl. In the end of the spider handle
was a hole to hang it up on a nail, and in my
e{fforts to be composed and answer the old man's
questions, my right hand was running along the
spider handle, my front finger slipping in and
out the hole, when I discovered with dismay
that my finger was through the hole in the
spider handle, and I could not get it out. I
pulled and sweat and shivered, but it was no
use, and my finger was sweUing. What to do

96 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
I did not know. Many wild plans formed in my
mind. I knew that Mrs. Sherman would soon
come with a case-knife to turn the meat over,
when she would surely discover my predicament,
and then good-bye to Fanny and peace ever
afterwards. I never would get over it. I
thought of grabbing the spider in both hands,
rushing out of the door and home, or until I
could find some one to take it off. But I soon
discarded that idea. Then I saw Mrs. Sherman
take a case-knife and start towards the stove.
I knew my time had come; desperation aided
my strength, and with my other hand on the
spider handle, I gave a tremendous pull and
drew out my finger and concealed it in my pocket.
I hastily brushed the bits of skin from the spider
handle and tried to look cool and unconcerned,
but oh, how my finger hurt, and it was bleeding,
but I wrapped my handkerchief about it and sat
silent while she turned the meat over. Soon
supper was announced, and I was invited to
eat, but I declared that I was not hungry, I
had just been to dinner, etc. Neighbors were
not expected to eat when invited, unless they
came by invitation, and then I was not accus
tomed to eat with one hand. Soon supper was

GIRLS 97
over. The dishes washed and Mr. and Mrs.
Sherman went up into the loft to bed. There
was a fireplace in the other end of the room where
Fanny sat. The fire was out in the stove and
after waiting for some time she told me to come
over to the fire where it was warm. I went,
sitting down as far away from her as I could.
We sat there an hour or more. I said very little.
I noticed on cleats or slats nailed across the
joist to the ceiling, pans of milk, placed there to
keep from freezing, and I wished oh! so much,
that I could get a drink of that milk. I had
never been so hungry before, and my finger
pained me dreadfully. The boy did not come
home, and I finally realized that I must go home.
I started to go, but Fanny would not let me.
It was ten o'clock, a slow drizzling rain had set
in, and it was dark as pitch. When I saw this,
I concluded that I must stay all night. She
went into the spare room on the same floor, to
prepare my bed, and I cHmbed up on a chair
and eased a pan of milk down and drank almost a
quart of it. It was so good. I was just going
to take another drink, when I heard her coming,
and through fear, or a slip, or something, down
I went, chair, milk pan and all, with the milk

98 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
spilled aU over me, while the pan rattled on the
hard puncheon floor. The old man called out,
"Fanny." She came in and looked at me. I
was a sight. I said I knew nothing about it.
That the first thing I knew the pan of milk
came tumbling down upon me. She answered
her father that a pan of milk had fallen down.
It must have been insecurely placed on ii^e
slats, and then she set to work with towels and
cloths to remove the milk from me. I felt
sheepish and thought I would make a clean
breast of it and tell her everything; but then
I was afraid, and soon she took a candle and
showed me my room.
There were clothes enough on the bed, but a
piece of wood to stop the chink between the
logs was gone, and wind and rain came through
this place fiercely. It was a crevice or open
space about three inches up and down, and
eighteen inches long, right by the head of my
bed. I knew that I would take cold imless I
stopped this hole; and so, after vainly searching
for something to stop it with, I took my trousers
and wedged them into the crevice and went to
sleep. In the morning I was awakened by raps
on the door, and sprang out of bed, but my

GIRLS 99
trousers were gone and the wind was coming
through the crevice as much as ever. I could
not understand it and looked in vain for my
trousers. Then I searched' the room for a pair
of the boy's trousers, but I could not find any
thing to wear, not even a dress of Fanny's, and
when I heard another rap on the door, I put on
what clothes I had and asked who was there.
Fanny's father answered and said it was late.
I asked him to come in. I explained my trouble.
He laughed and said he thought he could find
my trousers. They had two early spring calves,
and to break the wind from them had built a
little leanto, or shed, up against the house next
my bedroom. The calves, discovering my trou
sers, had drawn them through the crack and
sucked and chewed and stamped on them.
Mr. Sherman brought them in. They looked
Hke a frozen mop. A pair of the boy's trousers
was loaned me. I stayed to breakfast and played
checkers with Fanny, while her mother washed,
ironed and dried my trousers, and I went home
with my reputation saved, and much better
acquainted with Fanny and less afraid of her.
The Battle of Bull Run had been fought and
lost, and the Battle of Dranesville fought and

100 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
won. The war spirit was high. The popular
song was "John Brown's body lies mouldering
in the grave, but his soul is marching on."
It was his spirit that was marching with the
soldiers. "Uncle Tom's Cabin" and John
Brown were the inspiration of the North. The
men who volunteered went South to abolish
slavery and revenge John Brown and Uncle
Tom. If there had been only the question of
division of states at issue, I doubt whether the
war would have occurred. The North was fired
with a hate of slavery. It was a curse upon the
land. I have always thought that Harriet
Beecher Stowe and John Brown did more to
rouse the patriotic spirit of the North than any
other persons. The war dragged along through
1862 with indifferent success. I was at home
helping my father on the farm with occasional
work at some of the neighbors. I had gotten
over my fear of girls and attended the dances
in the neighborhood. Mrs. Willard owned a
house that had a dance hall in it, and coun
try dances were frequent. We did not dance
the tango, but the old square dances of four
couples, Virginia reel and money musk. The
fiddler, Andrew Taylor, was the only musician.

GIRLS 101
He also called the movements. There were
some good dancers, but I rarely saw a waltz.
Most any one could dance by obeying the calls.
It was alamand left — ^balance partners and all
promenade. But we enjoyed it, and many a
harmless flirtation ripened into courtship and
marriage. Each boy paid the fiddler twenty -five
cents. We gave Mrs. Willard twenty-five cents.
Each boy brought a girl and she brought lunch
for the two. We danced until one or two
o'clock in the morning and then saw our girls
home. There were no chaperones — ^none were
necessary. If a young man had a bad name,
the parents would not let their daughter go
with him at all.
I had a bad case of pneumonia in the spring
of 1862, and came very near dying. I was very
ill and not expected to Hve. I would have
probably died, had it not been that Doctor
Packer, our family doctor, returned suddenly
from the army and took charge of my case at
the most critical time. I did not know that
he was home or that my father had gone for him,
when he bundled into the room with his great
big buffalo-skin overcoat on, shaking off the
snow and talking rapidly in his small, snappy

102 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
voice. I felt Hke a prisoner condemned to die,
who is pardoned. I knew then that I would
get well. I did not expect to until he came in.
He had treated me for diphtheria and a light
case of smallpox and knew me. He had a
cheery way of rallying his patients. He turned
me over, asked many questions and from his old
leather saddle bags took out his cups. These
were little cup-like cells which he placed over my
lungs and proceeded to exhaust the air from
them by a small contrivance like a pump. He
had made little cuts in the skin. By this
operation he drew pus and thick blood from my
chest. I felt better. Then he bled me in the
arm and gave me medicine which he carried with
him. He had emptied the contents of his
saddle bags on the table and would search out
the things that he wanted, talking constantly.
"We will soon have you up; you are not nearly
as sick as you think you are. If those fool
doctors had let you alone, you would have been
well by this time." He may not have been a
great doctor in the opinion of some, but in our
family he was the greatest doctor in the world,
and as I recall the state of the medical practice
at that time he was the best and most famous

GIRLS 103
doctor in the northern tier and he was always
welcome at our house. He generally drove up
about an hour before dinner in his high two-
wheeled gig, with his tall bay horse. Bob. That
gave my mother time, but if dinner was a little
late, it was a good one. Such hot wheat cream
biscuits as she could make! Such fresh white
honey in the comb ! We always had store coffee
when he was there. When there was no com
pany we usually had pea-wheat or bean coffee.
Beans roasted brown make very good coffee,
with rich cream. Doctor Packer was a good
story teller, and if his stories were mostly at the
expense of his medical brethren) they were
deeply interesting. One of his stories I remem
ber. A farmer was sick with a burning fever,
and the doctor treating him would not allow him
any water, although he begged for it. He was
delirious, and it required two of his neighbors
to hold him in bed. In front of the house was a
big spring eighteen inches deep, with water over
a space ten feet across. One night the watchers
got a httle careless and the patient broke away
and ran out to the spring and lay down in it
and drank his fill of it before they could get him
out and into bed again. Some one went

104 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
hurriedly for the doctor. He said, "It is no use
for me to see him. Go to the coffin-maker and
order his coffin. He will die before morning."
They turned sorrowfully away and went home to
find the patient asleep. When he was awake
he sent for Doctor Packer. The doctor came
and continued the water treatment and the man
got weU. The doctor claimed that he had
learned a lesson, and that thereafter he was going
to let his fever patients have water. We were
all glad of that, for we were not allowed to have
water when we were sick, no matter how thirsty
we were. A little sip of crust coffee was all we
got, and that was warm. It was bread toasted
to a brown and placed in hot water. This made
a drink called crust coffee.
There were many meetings in Wellsboro to
raise volunteers, and many men enlisted in the
volunteer regiments. Each county was required
to recruit a given number of men, and, failing to
do so, there was a draft in prospect. The
counties divided the number of men required
among the boroughs and townships. There were
many men liable to be drafted who were very
eloquent in persuading the others to enlist.
While a lawyer was holding forth on the village

GIRLS 105
green, eloquently, on the duty of every patriotic
citizen to enlist, some one called out, "Why don't
you enlist?" A man standing next to him said,
"Keep quiet. We can't spare him. If he
enlists there will be no one left to urge others to
enlist and we will all be drafted." But quite
as large a proportion of lawyers volunteered as
of any other occupation, and soirle of them
proved their patriotism by leaving their bodies
on Southern battlefields. I used to attend
these meetings, some of which were at night
in the courthouse. Generally, there were fine
dinners served by the patriotic ladies, and a
brass band and members of the church choirs
gave good entertainment at the meetings. At
one of these afternoon and evening meetings
I got acquainted with a girl near my age who
interested me. I was not introduced and I
did not even know her name or where she
lived, but she was a nice, modest, pretty girl.
Introductions were not necessary. We just got
to talking together, and when the meeting broke
up, about eleven-thirty at night, I asked to see
her home. She consented and we started. I
supposed she lived in town, but she did not.
We walked between five and six miles over the

106 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
Charleston hills before we reached her home.
Then I had to walk back to town and then five
miles home. When I finaUy got back, just
before dayhght, I did not feel as much patriot
ism for the country or the girl as I did at the
meeting. It is strange how physical influences
will quench optimism and patriotism.
In July, 1863, the great Battle of Gettysburg
was fought. I was then seventeen years old and
was anxious to enlist.

CHAPTER XXII
I Become a Soldier
THERE was a battalion of Pennsylvania
volunteers organized to defend the state
under a six-months' enlistment. George
W. Merrick was the captain of Company A,
and I with four other boys went to Harrisburg
and enlisted in Captain Merrick's company.
We were to be mustered in and get our uniforms
in a few days, and in the meantime were given
a tent and rations. Before I was mustered an
order came to discharge me and send me home.
My father had telegraphed Senator Simon
Cameron, and he had obtained my discharge.
I had neglected to get my father's consent to
my enlistment, or tell him about it, for I was
afraid that he might object. I came back to the
farm and remained through the fall and until
February, when I talked the matter over with my
father. Captain Merrick's company had been
mustered out of service and he was recruiting
another company. I told my father that I was
determined to go as a volunteer, that I wanted
(107)

108 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
to go in Captain Merrick's company, and that
if he would not give his consent, I would enlist
in some other regiment, under another name.
When he saw that I was detremined to go, he
gave his consent in writing, and I joined Captain
Merrick's company. I shall never forget what
he said to me when I bade him good-bye:
"William, it will take you a long time to build
up a good character, but you can lose one in a
very few minutes." I have seen this verified
many times. I can't say that it was any excess
of patriotism that led me to enlist. I suppose
that I was as patriotic as the average boy of
my age, but my recollection is that I felt ashamed
to stay at home when so many boys were going.
I had attained to a man's height and much more.
I was six feet four and a half inches tall. I
weighed about one hundred and thirty-five
pounds. I enhsted as a private, and because of
my height was the first man in the company.
We camped at Camp Curtin in Harrisburg
while the regiment was being formed. I was
surprised to find my oldest half-brother as a
recruit in Company I of the same regiment.
We became the One Hundred and Eighty-
seventh Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry, of

I BECOME A SOLDIER 109
which Captain Merrick became the major.
We had a "paper" colonel, whom I never saw,
and a lieutenant-colonel named Ramsey, who
had very little to do with the regiment. Major
Merrick was the real commander. Then began
a series of drills and Merrick began to whip the
regiment into discipHne and prepare it for the
front. My family then had four sons in the
army, my three older half-brothers and myself.
Canap Curtin was about a mile up the river
from the city. About half way between the
city and the camp was a small roadhouse or
tavern kept by a man named Bailey. He had a
very pretty daughter named Nellie, about my
age, and I used to go there quite often. We were
good friends. There were a good many women
in town who frequently came to camp, that
were very easy to get acquainted with, especially
after pay day, but they had no attraction for
me. NelUe Bailey was a modest, quiet, bright
little girl, who always looked and acted pleased
when I went to see her. She was not a flirt, and
was very careful about receiving attention from
the young men who went to her father's house.
He was watchful of her. He would sell a
soldier a drink and, like as not, warn his daughter

110 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
against him. I had never taken any intoxicating
drinks, except at sheep washing at home, after
standing long in the water. I got sick and the
surgeon of the regiment did not know what was
the matter. I went down to Bailey's tavern,
under leave of absence, where I had a nice
sympathetic nurse, for Nellie was very good to
me. I developed a case of mumps, but I soon
got weU, and so did Nellie, for she had them too.
I had never thought of love or marriage up to
that time, nor did I then. We were just good
friends and comrades.
Our company lay at Camp Curtin through
March and April. We were in an enclosure
called the bull pen, which had a high board
fence all around it. Two or three gates gave
access to it. The gates were guarded. They
were open and the sentry stood at one side of
the opening with his gun leaning across to the
other side. Women selling pies, cakes, candy,
etc., stood outside, and the men on the inside
would reach through the gate opening and
purchase from the hucksters. Bill Chestnut, of
our company, looked unworthy of trust, and
he had to put down money before the hucksters
would let him touch their goods. I think that

I BECOME A SOLDIER 111
my face looked more honest than Bill's, for an
old woman let me pile up five small custard pies
on which I was trying to get, a disco'unt if I took
them all, when Bill reached through under the
gun, grabbed the pies and ran with them. She
demanded payment from me. I only had fifty
cents, which was the price of the pies. She
claimed that I piled up the pies on purpose so
that Bill could steal them. I denied it, but the
more we disputed about it, the more I began to
think that possibly I did. I knew that Bill
would steal or take things from hucksters without
paying for them. It was not regarded as steal
ing. They usually charged us two prices for
things, and we thought it legitimate to take
things from them, but Captain Merrick thought
differently about it. She told her story to him
and he sent for us. I paid for the pies. A very
reputable man, who has, since the close of the
war, won a name for himself as a goodand success
ful lawyer, did steal or take things from these
hucksters. He never stole anything from any
one else, but he was an adept at removing eggs,
chickens, pies, cakes, milk and other things
from the hucksters. I never took anything
myself, but observing Hank Foote's success at it.

112 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
I cultivated his acquaintance and got to bunk
with him. It paid me and helped him. His
reputation among the hucksters was bad. Mine
was good. I saw him steal a three-gallon can
of milk from a huckster one morning. The man
had two cans, one on each side of him. He was
bhnd in the right eye. Foote knew this, and
when the man reached around for the can on his
left side to fill a pint tin cup at ten cents, the
can on the right disappeared. He turned clear
around to bring his left eye into range, but could
see nothing; aU was tranquil. Foote had a
sort of a ceUar under the rough board floor of
our tent. He put his plunder there. We lived
weU, much better than the average. I do not
claim that I was any better than Foote, although
I was not on the lookout for opportunities for
him. He was a success at it, while I would have
been a complete failure. James Wilkinson
bought, in a drug store, sweet spirits of nitre,
but it proved to be nitric acid, and after he had
swallowed two teaspoonfuls of it, he was given
over to die by the regimental surgeon, but
George Kennedy, the hospital steward, knew
his business. He mixed up some magnesia with
water and got it down Jim's throat and into his

I BECOME A SOLDIER 113
stomach. Jim got over it. The surgeon was
jealous of Kennedy after that. He was dis
appointed because Jim Wilkinson did not die.
First Lieutenant Morgan Hart became captain
when Merrick became major; Second Lieu
tenant Robert Young became first lieutenant,
and Gerald Denison, the orderly sergeant,
became second lieutenant. Bela Borden became
orderly. I was made a corporal, and I was more
proud of it than of any office that I have ever
received. I had two dark blue stripes on my
arm, and got two dollars more a month. We
were suddenly ordered to the front in the early
part of May, 1864. We went on cars to
Washington, where, for the first time, I saw the
National Capitol. We were encamped at
Arlington. There I was taken sick and sent
back to Carver Hospital, somewhere on Four
teenth Street, probably what is now Fourteenth
and F or G. I was there a couple of months
when Breckenridge and Early made their raid
on Washington. There was some fighting at
Fort Steadman and Fort Slocum near Wash
ington. Every one that was able to walk was
ordered out of the hospitals, organized into a
kind of Coxey's Army and armed. I was able

114 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
to walk, but not far at a time. I had what was
known as chronic diarrhea, as did nearly every
Northern soldier, more or less, who was subjected
to the Southern climate, but we marched out
to Fort Slocum and lay there for several days
near a vegetable garden. The Confederates
were all gone when we got there, but we did
guard duty, and I found that the onions, new
potatoes and other vegetables in the garden
were helping me, that I was getting well, and
I made up my mind that I would not go back
to the hospital. When we were disbanded I
reported fit for duty, and was marched to Camp
Distribution near Alexandria, on the Potomac
River, just below Washington, and waited there
to be sent to my regiment, then in front of
Petersburg in the Army of the Potomac. I fell
in with a man there from my county named
Wallace Moore and we tented together. He was
quite a good scrub cook and fixed up palatable
dishes out of army rations and the few vegetables
that we could get. I suppose there were five or
six thousand men there, all waiting to be sent
to their regiments. We got our water from a
great, deep, wide-mouthed well. The water
was always murky and rily. One morning there

I BECOME A SOLDIER 115
was great commotion when the water got low
and a dead man was found in the well. He had
beeii there some time, but no one had noticed
any difference in the water. We did not use
any more water out of that well, but carried
it a long distance from a creek. It was well
on in August when I joined the regiment in
front of Petersburg. There I found that many
changes had taken place. Lieutenant Denison
had resigned and gone home, Bela Borden was
no longer orderly sergeant, Timothy H. Culver
was the orderly and there was no second lieu
tenant. A number of men in the company had
been killed and wounded at Forts Hell and
Damnation, and not over one-third of the com
pany of one hundred and thirteen answered
roll call. I had been promoted to be a sergeant
and I soon fell into the daily discharge of my
duties. We were camped in a pleasant little grove of
pines and Hved very well. An occasional shell
from the Confederates would trouble us and one
man was killed by a shell. It was soon after I
joined the regiment that we were moved out
to the Weldon Railroad, which we captured and
the Confederates were driven back. We hastily

116 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
scooped up dirt with our hands and tin plates
and threw it on to logs and rails in front, making
a rude rifle pit. We piled the ties up and set
them on fire and threw the rails on the fire,
which bent them out of shape under the heat.

CHAPTER XXIII
On Picket
THAT night I was put on picket duty for
the first time. We expected the Con
federates who were on the other side
of a piece of woods in our front to attempt to
recapture the road and were given specific
instructions by the officer of the guard. We
were told that if any man went to sleep on his
post he would be court-martialed and shot.
We were marched out to the edge of the woods,
and I, being a sergeant, was placed in charge of
three picket posts, my own and two on the left
of me. I was expected to visit them at intervals
during the night. There were five men in each
post. I suppose the posts were one hundred
and fifty yards apart. A nasty, drizzling rain
had set in and it was very disagreeable. We
were all tired, hungry and exhausted from our
march through the day. And as our supplies
had not come up we had only what our haver
sacks contained. We were told by the officer
of the guard that a week before, a picket post
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118 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
had been found with their throats cut from
ear to ear. In front of each post was a man
called the vedette, who was a lookout. He was
supposed to watch and report to his post any
advance of the enemy. The vedette in front of
our post was Nelse Starkweather, a man that
I knew very well. In the post was Jud Hall,
Palmer Wilcox, Wesley Saxbury, George B.
McGonigal and myself. I started to visit the
two posts on my left. It was pitch dark. I
found one, I do not know whether it was the
nearest or the farthest one away. They seemed
all right and I started to return. The edge of
the woods was angular and I could see nothing.
I walked slowly and pushed through the low
brushwood and over the logs. Because of the
darkness I could not tell whether I was in the
woods or the underbrush. I knew that Nelse
Starkweather was the vedette in front of my
post. I knew that he had orders to shoot at
anyone moving in front of him. I knew that
he was the most advanced man of our army.
I lost all calculation of distance or direction.
I was a non-commissioned officer. I was in a
dilemma. I was more afraid of Starkweather
than the Confederates. I stood behind a big

ON PICKET 119
tree and the rain dripped and there was a chilly
wind. I did not know my position, but I called
in a whisper "Nelse." He answered only a
few feet away. He knew me and said, "I had
a rest on you; if you had moved again I would
have fired. Here, let me take you back to the
post. " Knowing that he was a deer slayer and
one of the best shots in the northern tier of
counties of Pennsylvania, I appreciated the
fact that had he fired at me I surely would have
been hit in a vital spot. He led me back to the
picket post and there they were, all sound
asleep and snoring. Expecting the grand roimds
every minute, and knowing that if they came and
found the men asleep they would be court-
martialed and shot, I was in a terrible predica
ment. There they lay, snoring loud enough to
be heard very plainly quite a distance. Nelse
Starkweather crawled back to his vedette post
and I undertook to waken the sleepers. I
pulled them, rolled them about, but they would
not get up. They were asleep or pretended to be.
They were very tired, having marched a long
distance, and I could not rouse them. I also
was very tired and sleepy, and I sat down with
my back against a tree. I saw that in spite of

120 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
my efforts I might go to sleep. I had never
used tobacco and I knew that it would make me
sick. Palmer Wilcox always carried fine-cut
chewing tobacco loose in his blouse pocket, so
I crawled to him and got some of it and put it
in my mouth, swallowing some of the juice.
It made me so sick that I vomited at intervals,
which kept me awake. I knew that the officers
of the guard would come around and, finding us
asleep, we would be court-martialed and shot
and, being an officer, they would probably shoot
me twice. It still rained and was cold and I
was watching and listening for the officers of the
guard, wondering why they did not come and
"have it over with." I was so sick and miser
able that I doubted that I could prove I was
awake if they did come. There was no sound
but the loud and regular snores of my sleeping
comrades. I knew that some one should crawl
out and relieve the vedette. I tried to rouse
the sleepers again, but could not, so I got a
fresh supply of tobacco and crawled out to
relieve Starkweather. When I got to him he was
also sound asleep. I could not rouse him, so I
kept watch. Everything was quiet in front,
so I crawled back to the men. I could easily

ON PICKET 121
find them by their snores. When I got there
I could hear Starkweather snore in front. I
passed the night watching both posts, and
never in my life have I passed such a horrible
night. The fate of the army might hang on me,
for I was there to give the alarm by shooting
my gun if there was an advance. We were in
an old lane bordered on each side by persimmon
trees, and the Confederates would naturally
come up this lane. I could still shoot my gun,
but I could not retreat. I was too sick to stand
up, but I took a little tobacco emetic occa
sionally and hung on. Along toward morning
it stopped raining and the moon came out.
Then I again thought of the men in the post
whose throats were cut. I tried not to think
about them, but I could not help it. I sat with
my back against a tree about half way between
the post and the vedette. I could see by the
Hght of the moon, and suddenly I saw three or
four men crawling stealthily toward the post.
I sat frozen with fear. I dare not shoot and
alarm the whole army. I was only to shoot in
case a force advanced. I was concealed by a
bush in front of me. I thought I would wait
until they got near enough to make sure of

122 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
hitting one of them and then shoot. Perhaps
they would go back. I was in great trouble.
I could see them crawling slowly but surely
towards the post. I had often been frightened
in my life, but never like that, for it was torture.
No one on the rack ever suffered more than I
did. I was so frightened that I could then keep
awake, but I dared not move for fear of dis
covery. I knew they would not expect to find
any one awake. The snorers did not keep time
and it sounded as if the whole army lay about
that post asleep. How long this lasted I do not
know. It finally occurred to me that they were
a long time crawling up to the post. I shifted
my position slightly and then could not see
them. It was growing lighter, and I knew that
day was breaking. It was some time before I
could convince myself that there had been no
one there. It was my imagination helped by the
tobacco and the story of the men in the other
post with their throats cut, but while it lasted
it was just as real to me as if there were men
crawUng up to the post. With daylight the
men got awake, stretched themselves and talked.
I was too sick to berate them. I slept a while,
but soon got up and when the officers of the

ON PICKET 123
guard came around — all was well. The men
were all awake and looked refreshed. I was
awake, but did not look refreshed. I made up
my mind to say nothing about the previous
night to any one, not even to the men, for I
knew they could not keep it. They might
deny being asleep, and I could not prove
that they were. I had learned that it is
just as hard for the average man to keep
a thing like that as it is for a woman, and
perhaps harder. Gossiping is not confined to
either sex.
We had nothing to eat all day. There was
no fruit except the persimmons, but they were
not ripe, for there had been no frost to ripen
them. A green persimmon is much worse than
a green apple, for they have a griping, puckering
effect like choke cherries. Fortunately, we had
nothing to do but sit around, as the Confederates
did not attack us that day. At six o'clock we
were relieved by another detail and we marched
slowly into camp. My tent-mate. Sergeant
Bricker, had supper waiting, and after drinking
some coffee and eating some hard tack I felt
better. He then brought out a watermelon
which he had purchased. That was my undoing.

124 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
I was very sick that night, and I have never
eaten watermelon since.
Everything seemed quiet, and Bricker and I
went pretty well down to our picket line to get
some shingles that I had seen scattered about
an old house that had been torn down. The
ground in our small tent was a Httle muddy and
we wanted to make ourselves more comfortable.
We found the shingles and piled them on two
poles. Then I took the front ends of the poles
and he the rear end and we started slowly to
camp. We had gotten about half way back
when the Confederates began their attack.
Cannon balls and shells were flying through the
air from both sides. We got back to our tent,
but we brought no shingles. He beat me back.
I remember thinking that I did not know that
he was such a sprinter, but he had the advantage.
He was Ughter loaded than I, for I still had to
carry some of that watermelon. The regiment
was in column, so we grabbed our guns and
accouterments and fell into line and soon took
our places behind the rough breastworks that
had been much strengthened the day before.
The breastworks lay in a straight Hne all along
in: front of our camp, but General Warren, our

ON PICKET 125
corps commander, had constructed a line of
breastworks beginning in the main Hne on our
right and running from it at an angle of about
forty-five degrees. It looked like the main Hne,
for it ran near to the woods in our front and
ended sharply. I never saw a prettier sight
than that made by the Confederates as they
moved out of the woods beyond this angular
Hne and charged the rear of the line. They
evidently did not understand that they were
between two lines. There were officers on
horses, fiags were flying, while drums and flfes
played martial airs. We all refrained from
firing until they got in the right position and
then we began firing from both lines, while
cannon from the small hill behind us poured
shot and shell into their ranks. They went
down like ten-pins before a skilful ball. Before
the smoke concealed them I could see that there
were no longer any mounted men among them,
while frightened riderless horses were galloping
in all directions, some plunging into our lines.
It was a terrible slaughter and those who escaped
retreated rapidly into the woods. The attack
was general. Our regiment was marched at
double-quick about a mile or half mile to the

126 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
right under a heavy cannon fire from the
Confederates. A shell passed very close to me,
the concussion knocking me down. It entered
Company D just next to our company and
exploded, killing three men and wounding
several others. We then charged directly in
front into a piece of woods, driving out the
Confederates and recapturing some rifle pits
which had been taken from our men earlier in
the day. For a time there was no fighting for
us. I walked back a little way and there behind
a big tree stood Jim Stanton. He was a queer
man and could not stand fire. No matter how
he was taunted and reviled for his cowardice,
the moment he came under fire he would run.
Captain Hart on entering into one engagement
ordered him up in the presence of the company
and, drawing his revolver, told him that he was
going to keep his eye on him and the moment
that he started to run he would shoot him;
but Jim kept his eye on the captain too, and in
the first fire he got away and was not seen
during the balance of the engagement. He
had a brother, Robert, who was brave and cool
under fire and was recommended for promotion
for his bravery in battle. When the war was

ON PICKET 127
over there was no man in the Grand Army of
the RepubUc that could narrate more hair
breadth stories than Jim. No man who could
tell of the hardship and privations of war so
well as he. He would sing "Rally Round the
Flag" with an earnest patriotic zeal that made
every one wish he had been in the army. I
crept back to my place in the rifle pit, where
we carried on the policy of watchful waiting for
the balance of the day. We knew that the
Confederates lay in front of us, but could not
see them for the trees. We were in a swampy
place and it was hard to find ground that was
dry enough on which to be comfortable. Just
after dark it began to rain and about midnight
we found that the rain was washing away the
dirt from the barricade of poles and rails and
making our rifle pit worthless. Some shovels
were obtained from the rear and the captain
ask^d for volunteers to get over on the other
side and shovel dirt on the rails. Lon Mack,
Dick Francis, several others, and I volunteered.
We expected that the Confederates would shoot
at the sound as soon as they heard the shovels,
and sure enough they did. Francis and another
man whose name I cannot recall were wounded.

128 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
I recollect that it was a perilous undertaking
and I did not want to go, but I knew that some
of us had to go and, being an officer, I felt that
I should set an example, and that in peril the
officers should place themselves before the men
and take the risk. It was not bravery, but just
a sense of pride, responsibility and duty. I
do not believe that any one ever experienced
a conscious feehng of bravery. I noticed that
there was a big tree several feet from the rifle
pit in front of me. I had noticed it during the
day and when I got over the rifle pit I just
naturally got in front of that tree. I could do
as good work with my shovel there as anywhere
else, and I shoveled hard in perfect safety. The
tree did not interfere with me at all. I did not
object to it, but think I would have objected
if any one had tried to take it away. No one
else seemed to want that place. I suppose that
it did not occur to any of them, but it did to me,
and it may have influenced me some to volunteer
promptly, and may have caused me to remain a
little longer than the rest. It is so long ago that
I cannot remember all the little details of my
life. No one ever spoke about the tree and I
never mentioned it, but we finished the job and

ON PICKET 129
those who were not wounded resumed their
places. In the morning the Confederates with
drew and we were moved back to higher and
better ground. A thing that seemed curious to
me happened at this battle. We had a quiet,
level-headed man in our company by the name
of Travis. For a day or two before the fight
this man said that he would be killed in that
battle. He wrote to his wife and friends,
predicting his death. The captain heard of it
and told him that he need not go into the fight,
that he would detail him for some service in the
rear. He knew that Travis had shown his
courage and that he was sincere in his belief
that he would be shot. But Travis dechned to
stay in the rear. He went into the fight and
was shot dead at the first fire. I dreamed one
night after my experience on picket that I was
shot through the head and killed. I thought
that I fell down about twenty feet and struck
on a big fluffy feather bed. I remember thinking
that if I was sure that I would land on a soft
feather bed I would not object to being shot,
but I was partly asleep when I thought that.
I knew when awake that if what Httle theology
I had heard was true, I would not land on a

130 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
fluffy soft feather bed. I would probably land
where it was warm enough, but there would be
no feather bed there; and so I never courted
death, and do not now. I suppose that there is
no use in trying to dodge it when it does come,
but I am not beckoning to it.

CHAPTER XXIV
In Camp
WE now lay in a Httle grove or woods of
small pine trees, and each man made
himself a couch or bunk of pine
needles. By driving four stakes into the ground
with forked tops, then laying cross pieces and
smaU poles on the cross pieces with larger poles
on the sides and ends, then filling in with pine
needles in plenty, we had a springy comfortable
bed. With our oilcloth blankets spread on
poles about two feet above the couch to keep off
the dew and then a blanket to cover us, we were
all right. Here we got letters from home and
wrote them. Here our sutler joined us with all
sorts of things to sell — cakes, pies, candy,
popcorn, stationery and stamps, and here we
were paid off. Some of us who had been trusted
before and paid could get credit with the sutler.
They were always with us except when we were
too close to the enemy. The envelopes coming
to us and those we sent had little patriotic songs
upon them in fine print, covering sometimes
(131)

132 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
two-thirds of the envelope. It required some
taste and skill to select the envelope. It would
not do to send a letter to your mother with the
song of "The Girl I Left Behind Me" or to
write to your best girl with the song on the
envelope of "Who Will Care for Mother Now?"
But the song on the envelope must bear the
proper relation to the person addressed. Our let
ters would come in envelopes with songs on them
of "We ShaU Meet, but We Shall Miss Him,"
"There Will be One Vacant Chair" and "Where
is My Boy To-night." These envelopes were
of all colors, scarlet, pink, white, blue and gray.
They were very popular at home and in the army,
and many a poor letter writer was helped out
very much by the selection of an envelope that
bore the proper song. It was wonderful how
patient the folks were at home, and how they
cheered us with their letters. Boys wrote
letters to girls at home that they scarcely knew,
and the girls were very nice to answer thein.
Of course, as poor speakers make the most
speeches, the poorest writers wrote the most
letters. What still lives in my memory was the camp-
fire. In the early part of the evening before

IN CAMP 133
taps, we sat about the fires in groups and
listened to stories and songs. There was
always one or two good singers and story tellers
in every group of men and their songs and
stories were always in demand. Stories were
told of home folks and of people that we knew,
and their oddities, and as the fire died down to a
bed of coals and one by one the men went to
their bunks, a few of us would still remain and,
like Dickens' Lizzie Hexam, gaze into the
glowing coals in the hollow down by the flare,
where our imaginations would weave bright
pictures of home, mother and friends. Then to
our bunks and sleep, to be roused out in the
morning by the fife and drum playing the
reveille.

CHAPTER XXV
Ordered to Philadelphia
3^ BOUT October first our regiment was
/-% ordered to Philadelphia and placed in
Camp Cadwalader, on the outskirts of
Philadelphia, for duty in Pennsylvania. I have
never known why we went to Pennsylvania,
for there were no more raids of any consequence
into Pennsylvania after Gettysburg. Camp
Cadwalader covered some fifty or more acres,
and was enclosed by a high board fence. There
were barracks and offices inside, and a number
of officers were stationed there. They glistened
with gold braid, brass buttons and epaulettes.
New regiments of recruits were organized in
PhUadelphia. The horses of the Philadelphia
officers were accoutered with saddles and bright
cloths ornamented with shining metal. These
officers thought that they saved the Union,
although they never got nearer the front than
Philadelphia. They had political influence and
drew the same pay as men of the same rank in
front. Our regiment was ordered on dress parade
(134)

ORDERED TO PHILADELPHLA. 135
the day after we got there. Of course we came
back when ordered and were in our fighting
clothes. We had no extra clothing, as we had
thrown it away on the march. The average man
had a woolen shirt, a pair of trousers, a hat, blouse
and shoes. I had owned for a time while in
front a pair of socks, but I had none when we
went to Philadelphia. We had no trouble with
dress parade at the front, but neither our
appearance nor our evolutions satisfied these
gorgeous military officials who commanded
Camp Cadwalader. A stranger could not tell
the rank of all of our officers. Some of them
had no shoulder straps, but we knew them, for
they had led us in battle. There was no mistake
about the camp officers, for they had braid on
their trousers, coats and caps, and shoulder
straps large enough for shelter when it rained.
Had the Confederates ever come to PhUadelphia
and discovered these officers and it had been
explained to them what they were, they would
have beat a hasty retreat. They were great
on the salute and its return. That is likely the
only thing military that they knew. We got
into position and paraded before this brilliant
bunch. When it was over a little fellow read

136 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
an order or composition which was a criticism
on our personal appearance. If they had given
us time we could have improved it. They
evidently thought that the officers at the front
looked as they did. There was a battalion of
invalids organized for camp duty from men who
had been wounded in battle. Nearly every
man was minus a leg or an arm or an eye, but
they were scrubbed and scoured and ironed
until they looked scrumptious. Our comparison
to them was unfavorable to us. So they told
us, in the order, that we were not soldierly and
neat. Now, if there is anything that offends,
it is a criticism of personal appearance. Neither
we nor our officers liked the order. They
marched up to headquarters and denounced it.
Our captain, Morgan Hart, expressed himself
freely about it, and there was profanity in the
air. So they were put under arrest and court-
martialed. The military court was composed
of wise stay-at-homes. Some of our officers
were convicted and dismissed from the service
for insubordination — Captain Hart among the
number. In Captain Hart's dismissal the
country lost the services of a brave, capable
officer. It was a shame, perpetrated by

ORDERED TO PHILADELPHIA 137
cowardly home guards who were jealous of the
courage which they did not possess. The close
of the war in the following April absorbed all
attention and this wrong has never been righted.

CHAPTER XXVI
Home on Furlough
SOON after we reached Camp Cadwalader
I obtained a furlough for two weeks and
went home. I got to Wellsboro about
nine o'clock at night and walked out to the
farm, reaching there about ten-thirty. My
parents did not know that I was coming. As
soon as I got near the house I saw the dog
coming towards me, barking and showing a
decided objection to my coming nearer. I sat
on top of the fence and was amused at his
war-like attitude. He was my dog and there
was always a great friendship between us. He
was barking and very hostile, for he did not know
me in my blue uniform and I had been away
eight months. I finally spoke his name, and
he knew me at once when he heard my voice.
His attitude suddenly changed, so I got down
from the fence. He manifested great delight,
and I never saw such evidence of joy from man
or beast before. He would run around me, lick
my hands and rub his face against my knees and
(138)

HOME ON FURLOUGH 139
was wild with delight. There was a full moon
and it was quite Hght and the old farm and
buildings never looked so good to me before.
I knew that all in the house were in bed and
asleep and I thought I would get into the house
and up-stairs without wakening any one. I
had to go through the room where my father
and mother slept. I got through the kitchen
window and was tiptoeing through their room
when my mother began to scream. She had
dreamed that I was killed and that she saw me.
They did not know that the regiment had gone
to Philadelphia. The whole house was aroused
and we had some trouble to quiet her and
satisfy her that it was really I, alive, instead of
my ghost. But finally she became satisfied and
things settled down into a normal condition.
I was everywhere welcomed by the neighbors
and friends and enjoyed my return home very
much. I went to country dances and had a
splendid time with my friends.
I reported at Camp Cadwalader on the day
my furlough expired and again took up my
duties.

CHAPTER XXVII
Back in Camp
THE dismissal of Captain Hart raised
Lieutenant Young to the rank of cap
tain. Sergeant Culver to first lieutenant,
and I became second lieutenant, although I
was not mustered for a long time afterwards,
but discharged the duties of orderly or first
sergeant. We kept up our company and
regimental drills and had dress parades and
inspections. There were vacant fields near and
we frequently went outside the camp to drill
and for inspection. We were paid our back
money and drew new clothes and supplies.
Captain Young was a splendid man in many
ways, but he was not a military man. He was
kind and indulgent to his men and would resent
any unfair treatment to any of them by any
officer. He was about forty or forty-five years
old. He was a moulder and had worked all of
his life over moulds in which plow irons and
other parts of machinery were cast. He was
over six feet tall and his work compelled him
(140)

BACK IN CAMP 141
to be stooped down much of the time, and as a
result of this he acquired a stoop or bend in his
back that prevented him from standing in the
position of a soldier. He stood, even when
trying his best, at an angle of fifteen or twenty
degrees from perpendicular. He was a brave
soldier and very popular with his men. He
was quite a good boxer and knew something of
the manly art and he sometimes enforced
discipHne by this means. He did not like to
put a man in the guard-house for a slight viola
tion of rules and he would waive his rank and
settle their differences sometimes as they were
settled before they entered the service. He was
quite capable and after several experiences most
of the offenders preferred the guard-house. He
knocked the adjutant down once for trying to
force a man out of a seat in a car, that he might
occupy it, but the drill and military movements
he never could get the hang of, and could not
always remember the commands to give. One
day we were out on inspection and he wanted to
get the company through a gap in a rail fence
on to the other side where the ground was dryer.
He would move the men up in line of battle, one
row behind the other. The right was opposite

142 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
the gap. The command was, "By the right
flank, file left," but he could not think of it,
so he would command, "Right about,, march,"
and we would move back a distance and then
it would be, "Right about, march." We aU
knew what was the matter but none dared to
help him out, for he would have been very
angry, and so, after he had marched us up and
down before the fence several times, he com
manded us to "Halt!" and said, "Break ranks,
and when you form again just form on the other
side of that d — n fence if you please!"
Our company and Company D occupied one
barrack building. One end of it was partitioned
off for the non-commissioned officers. I stiU
bunked with them. Henry M. Foote had been
made a corporal. He still foraged occasionally
on the hucksters and was as skilful as ever.
He wanted a furlough and had applied to
Captain Young, but the furlough was slow in
coming. The captain was annoyed by the loss
of some seventeen stands of arms while in front,
for which he was responsible. So we were on
the lookout for them. Foote said to me one
morning that he had found them and uncovered
a gun box, and sure enough there they were.

BACK IN CAMP 143
The captain was greatly reheved, and Foote got
his furlough. I said nothing, but when I saw
that the guns and accouterments were all new,
and knowing that a new regiment lying near
us had just been supplied with arms, also that
Foote had found the guns at night, I had
suspicions. But the liability of one captain
was transferred to several who could better
stand the loss, and the war closing soon after
wards the new regiment never had occasion to
use them and they were probably never missed.
Captain Young never had any suspicion of any
one. If he had, he would have started an
inquiry which would have likely brought trouble
to Foote, who acted with the best of intentions.
Foote never told me where he found the guns
and I never asked him.
We lay in Camp Cadwalader during the winter
and spring of 1865, and it was easy to get a pass
into the city. There was a considerable distance
between the camp and the city occupied by a
few houses. An old wooden hotel, called the
Cross Keys, stood by the roadside, and the sign
was two large keys crossed. This neighborhood
was dangerous at night. Bad men called "prairie
chickens" would knock down and rob our men

144 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
when coming home from the city, usually with
heavy loads to carry. I was at a theater one
night with Norm Bellinger of our company.
When we left the theater we found that it had
been snowing so hard that all street car traffic
had stopped, so we started to walk back to
camp. It was a long, tiresome walk through
the deep snow and it was after midnight when
we got to the Cross Keys. By this time it had
stopped snowing and there was a moon. I was
plowing through the snow ahead, Bellinger
following me. I saw a woman ahead of me who
seemed to walk with difficulty. When we were
nearly up to her she sank down in the snow.
I raised her up. She had gray hair and seemed
old and ill. She said she had been begging to
get food for her two young daughters who were
starving, so I told her I would take her home.
Norm demurred to this, for he was suspicious.
She said, "No, leave me here. I will soon be
asleep and my daughters are probably dead by
this time." But I was full of sympathy and
told Norm to go on to camp, that I was going
home with her. I was not suspicious. The only
thing I feared was that the daughters would
die before I got there to get them food. Norm

BACK IN CAMP 145
said that if I was bound to go he would go too,
but that he did not hke the looks of things.
We started. She led us down a road to the
city and then down an alley to a house on the
corner and then up a pair of outside stairs to
the second story. She opened a door and we
passed into a room poorly furnished. She lit a
lamp and motioned to me to follow her through
another door into a room which was lighted only
by a window, but I heard the latch click as I
passed through the door. The woman dis
appeared. I tried the door I had passed through
and found it locked. Norm called me. I told
him that the door was locked. It swung towards
me. Bellinger was over six feet high, weighed
about two hundred pounds and was as strong as
an ox. He backed up to the other side of the
room and came against that door with his
shoulder. It flew off its hinges and he sprawled
into the room. We ran into the first room out
of the outside door and down the stairs two at a
jump. When we reached the bottom we heard
voices calling, and looking up I saw three or
four men at the top of the stairs. We went
up the alley a good deal faster than we came
down it, and it was two o'clock before we got
10

146 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
to camp. We did not tell about this adventure.
Norm wanted to tell it, but I coaxed him not to.
Afterwards I remembered that while the old
woman could not walk in the street without
leaning on me, she went up the stairs without
help and had no difficulty in keeping in advance
of us. I have often observed how easy it is to
arouse a man's sympathy where there is a
suffering woman. Had she told me that the
old man was starving I would probably have
found some other way to help, but I do not
think I would have gone up-stairs to see the old
man starve.

CHAPTER XXVIII
Lincoln's Assassination
LEE surrendered to Grant in April, 1865,
i and then came the assassination of
Lincoln. Those were exciting days.
When Lincoln's body was brought to Philadel
phia on its way to Springfield, our regiment
acted as escort. The people had the greatest
desire to see him. The casket was placed on a
high vehicle, trimmed in black and drawn by
ten black horses all caparisoned with crape.
Each horse was led by a colored man dressed in
mourning. It was with the greatest difficulty
that we kept the crowd from pressing upon the
vehicle. Occasionally we were delayed for ten
or fifteen minutes. We finally reached Indepen
dence Hall, where the casket was placed on
wooden rests, and his face exposed to view. It
was shrunken and relaxed. I had seen him
when alive, but his face did not have much
resemblance to the face I had seen in Wash
ington. All night the people poured through
Independence Hall, passing on each side of him
(147)

148 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
until early morning, when he was taken to
Kensington Station. It seems difficult to believe
that one can have any real grief for a person he
has never seen, but on this occasion I saw men
and women weeping and in great grief and
sorrow. Lincoln was loved by the people as no
man in this country has ever been loved.
Washington was respected and admired, but
not loved as Lincoln was. Many stories of
pardons to young soldiers were told of him and
many of them were true. I do not suppose that
I can say anything of Lincoln that has not been
said, and it is not my purpose to try. What I
want to do is to tell my story in a plain, natural
way so that those who read it will see in it
practically what has happened or may happen
to them. My regiment took part in General
Meade's review. I saw him sitting superb and
soldierly on his horse as we passed in review.
The war was over and our regiment was
separated. Our company went to Harrisburg,
where we lay under loose discipline until we
were mustered out of the service in August, 1865.

CHAPTER XXIX
Home Again
WE went home to find that we were not
nearly as popular when the war was
over as we had been during the war.
The thoughts of the people were again turned
to farming and other pursuits. I had sent home
to my father the pay and bounty received. He
had invested it in an adjoining small farm and
the understanding was that I was to stay with
my parents and take care of thein, and when
they were gone I was to have both farms. I
went to the Wellsboro Academy during the fall
term of 1865. The principal was Professor
Van Allen, who had two assistants, his sister.
Miss Van Allen, and Miss Holland. They were
good teachers and if I did not learn much it
was not their fault. In the winter I taught the
public school in the Baldwin School District
at twenty dollars a month and boarded around
among the families who had children in school.
I got along very well and administered the
expected corporal punishment and thereby
(149)

150 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
obtained the respect and good opinion of the
parents. If there was not some one whipped in
that school for a couple of weeks, doubts would
arise as to the qualifications of the teacher.
I did not like the spare room where no one slept
except when company came, but the people were
very kind to me. I attended the Wellsboro
Academy in the spring term, or a part of it, and
then, in early April, went home to live there
during the balance of my life. I was twenty
years old. If I had married on this resolution
I would have been a fixture, but, fortunately
or unfortunately, no girl had taken sufficient
interest in me to cause me to think about
marriage. I started in to make maple sugar on
the land that had been bought for me. It was
very discouraging and disagreeable work. The
sap did not run very well. It rained much of
the time. The wood did not burn and no
matter which side of the fire I was on, the
smoke blew into my eyes. My younger brother,
Grier, and I worked a whole week carrying sap
on sap yokes to boil down into syrup. A sap
yoke is a hollowed piece of wood resting on the
shoulders and to each end is suspended a cord
and hook, then a pail or bucket was hooked on

The Author's Old Home

As it appears today

HOME AGAIN 151
to each hook. In this way you could carry
two pails filled with sap easier than one by hand.
At the end of the week we had two large pails
of quite thick syrup. I was going home with a
pail of syrup hooked on to each end of the sap
yoke. He was carrying the lantern to show me
where to step, for it was very dark. I stumbled
on a root, fell and spilled all of the syrup.
Here was a whole week's work gone and it was
discouraging. I began to have some doubts
about farming, but there was nothing else for
me to do, as my education was poor. I had
not improved my opportunities. But summer
came and amid the haying, young people and
country dances I forgot the accident to the
maple syrup.
One night in haying time we all went down to
Wellsboro in a hay wagon to hear Professor
F. A. Allen, the principal of the Mansfield
State Normal School, lecture on the benefits of
an education. There were about a dozen
couples packed in on the loose hay. We had
no interest in education, and could see no
benefit in it. There were songs and stories and
much laughter on the way. The lecture was in
the courthouse. We went just because it gave

152 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
us an excuse for going somewhere together.
I had heard people advocate the benefits of an
education, and they did not interest me, but I
had never heard Professor Allen lecture. From
the first, he held my attention and interest.
He closed by saying that want of money should
not prevent any one from obtaining an educa
tion. He said one could be had at the normal
school, and if there was any young man or
woman there who wanted an education and had
no money, they could come to his room at the
hotel the next morning and he would show them
how to get it without money. I had no money.
What little I had was invested in the farm that
had been bought for me. I was much impressed
with what the professor said. The next morning
I got up early and walked to Wellsboro and
called upon Professor Allen. I was the only
caUer. I told him I wanted to know how I
coiUd go through normal school without money.
He asked me a number of questions. The
result was that when the normal school opened
in September I was one of the students. I
swept the haUs and attended to the fires in the
building during my first year, for my board and
tuition. The second year, finding my duties

HOME AGAIN 153
interfered too much with my studies, the
professor took my note for board and tuition.
I graduated in June, 1868, but what a time I
had. I was six feet four and one-half inches tall.
I was put into a class in mental arithmetic with
little girls and boys. I would not have stayed
there a week if it had not been for Alice Landis,
a girl at the Wellsboro Academy I had learned
to hke. She was of superior mind and a splendid
scholar. I had great admiration and respect
for her. She wrote me such letters of encourage
ment that I was ashamed to quit and have her
say, "I was afraid you were a quitter. Well,
there is no use of your trying any more. Go
back to the farm and forget it. " And so I hung
on and worked. At first my work did not seem
to do a bit of good. I could not or did not
acquire the lesson, but I got a letter from Alice
every day and I kept at it. After a while I
found that to acquire anything I must empty
my mind and thoughts of everything else; that
one could not fill a pitcher that was already full;
that to fill it with milk you must first pour the
water out; and so I gradually began to learn
how to learn. I got over the idea of "What's
the use of knowing Latin when no one in the

154 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
world speaks it?" I grew to realize that the
studies were to discipline the mind, as a drill
disciplines the soldier. They do not drill in
battle and they no longer speak Latin in Rome,
but study trains and disciplines the mind to do
other things. I became quite a good student,
thanks to Alice Landis. We were not in love;
neither of us expected to marry the other, but
she was a natural missionary and she saw in me
a first-class heathen. In the two-years', or
elementary, course I took also a number of
studies in the four-years' course. There were
many young men and women in the school who
had grown up on farms in Bradford, Tioga and
other counties. None of them were quite as
ignorant as I was, but they were not informed
on many things. The school rented the text
books to the students when desired. A class in
philosophy was organized, and Professor Allen
taught it. I joined it, with twenty other young
men and women, among them Leonard Austin.
There were not books enough to supply each
student the first day, but Professor Allen dis
tributed what they had and told us to borrow
from each other. We were to meet the next
day to recite. "Wells' Natural Philosophy"

HOME AGAIN 155
was the text-book used. The professor began
at the head of the class and asked questions.
He asked Austin: "What is natural physics?"
Austin arose and blandly said, "Professor, I
had no book, but I think I can answer that
question." "Very well," said the professor,
"What is natural physics?" "Salts, pills and
castor oil, " said Austin with evident confidence
that he had answered the question correctly.
After the laughter had quieted and Austin saw
his mistake, he asked to be excused from
further attendance on the class that day.
I found many congenial spirits among the
students at Mansfield: A. D. Wright, Ben
Van Dusen, George Doane, Harry Jones, Jim
McKay, Francis Wright, Lizzie Hill, Fannie
Climenson, Sue Crandall, Ezra B. Young and
many others. I formed a very strong friendship
for Jim McKay. He was a farmer's son from
Delaware County. We roomed together and
slept in the same bed. Our bedrooms were
all on the third floor and the study and recitation
rooms were on the first and second floors. The
chapel was on the second floor. The kitchen,
dining-room and store rooms were on the first
floor. There was only one building then.

156 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
This was divided by a partition, the girls
occupying the east half and the boys the west
half of the study and sleeping rooms. Our
sleeping rooms opened into a large central room
called the morgue. We had to pass through this
room to get to our sleeping rooms. There was
only one door into it from the landing at the
head of the stairs. Our board was cheap in
price, quantity and quality. There were a
number of tables in the dining-room, and each
boy was seated by a girl to teach him manners.
Professor Allen allotted the seats. There were
about ten persons at each table, and we were a
very happy family. Many friendships formed
in the dining-room grew into courtships and
subsequently ripened into marriage. The
teachers. Professors Allen, Streit, Verrill, Jones,
Miss Conard, Miss Biggs, and the preceptress,
Mrs. Petercilia, were all very efficient and kind.
Mrs. Petercilia was a widow. She had taken
a degree at a homeopathic college of medicine
and was our doctor as well as our teacher in
some branches. She was a short, quick, snappy
woman, and looked as if it pained her when she
smiled. She was strong on decorum and pro
priety, and a good chaperon from a parental

HOME AGAIN 157
view, but unpopular with the girls. She had
no humor and always wore little corkscrew curls
on each side of her head and admitted the age
of thirty. She could not have been more than
fifty. Probably much nearer that than thirty.
There were about two hundred students, half
of whom were girls. Mansfield was a healthy
place, but there were always some students
sick. John Angle was very ill with typhoid
fever. For some time it was thought he would
not recover. In the early part of the winter
Jim McKay and I, from eating too many
buckwheat cakes, our principal bread-food,
and too much dried applesauce, our principal
dessert, had an itchy trouble and from home
experience we thought we recognized it. We
did not consult Dr. Petercilia. We were both
aUopathists and doubted that homeopathy had
any remedy for our complaint. Besides, we
had full faith in an ointment which our mothers
made out of brimstone, turpentine, red precipi
tate, rosin, lard and other things not palatable
or fragrant. I never knew the pharmacy name
for it, but it was called at home and in the
neighborhood where it was popular "Itch Oint
ment." It was rubbed pretty fully over the

158 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
skin, in a hot room, and would surely rout the
itch and other members of the family. It was
all right when two only slept in a room and both
had it, but if one only had it he had to have a
room alone. We both wrote home to our
mothers for some of this ointment. We soon
got over our scratches and forgot all about the
ointment. At Christmas Jim's mother sent
him a box of a number of good things to eat.
There were a roast turkey, two roast chickens,
mince pies, pies of several kinds, bread, butter,
cake and several kinds of jelly in Httle cups and
jars with brown paper tied around their tops.
Our room was popular while this lasted. John
Angle was slowly getting better, and Mrs.
Petercilia announced one morning at chapel
that Mr. Angle was on the road to recovery,
but was very weak; that if any of the students
had any little delicacies from home for him,
they would be acceptable. After chapel was
over Jim fished out of the box two or three jars
of jelly and we took them up to Angle. Mrs.
Petercilia opened the door of his room to our
quiet knock. There lay poor Angle on his back
with a face as white as a sheet. He could just
recognize us by a look. Jim handed Mrs.

HOME AGAIN 159
Petercilia the jars. She tore off the paper cover
of one and put some of the contents on the end
of a case-knife. Angle opened his mouth and
she gave it to him. Soon his face showed great
distress and disgust. Mrs. Petercilia seized
the jar and said, "What is that?" Jim looked at
the jar, when he too showed great surprise,
exclaiming "By thunder, that is my itch oint
ment!" She reported us to the faculty, but we
being guilty of no evil intent, and Angle surviving
the incident, we were only cautioned to be very
careful in the future; but for some time after
that when Mrs. Petercilia saw us her nose
turned up just a trifle. She had very little to
say to us and never referred to our visit to her
patient. She had a right to be disgusted, for
we were too. The dried-apple dessert came
every night at dinner about six o'clock. A
teacher or some trusted monitor of the faculty
sat at the head of the table. We could say
nothing, but if looks would have soured apple
sauce, there would have been a break in the
vinegar market. It was talked about in our
rooms. Something had to be done. It was not
Professor Allen's fault; the trustees furnished
the food. They had bought up all of the dried

160 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
apples in the vicinity and they had to feed them
to somebody. The third floor was reached by a
long, wide stairway, starting just at Professor
VerriU's door, and he was in charge of the boys,
who were responsible to him for their conduct.
There was an outside rail to the stairs. When
he heard a racket on the third floor he would
slip his feet into a pair of carpet slippers and
step softly up-stairs in his nightshirt without any
light, guiding his steps by his hand on the stair-
rail. He could be among us before we knew it,
and some thought it was not fair and that we
should have some notice of his approach.
Besides, he was not Hked very much. He had
red hair and was too popular on the other side
of the buUding, and he and the applesauce were
our principal grounds of grievance. It was
Jim McKay's fertile mind that relieved the
difficulty. He and several other daring spirits
went down into the kitchen after midnight.
They found a tin clothes boiler two-thirds fuU
of the applesauce. They quietly brought it
up-stairs and smeared the stair-rail with it,
leaving the tin boiler on the stairs about two-
thirds of the way up. Then they went up to
the third floor and started a noisy row. Out

HOME AGAIN 161
came Verrill and started on his mission of
investigation. He got up as far as the tin
boiler when he fell over it and rolled and
tumbled with it to the foot of the stairs. Hear
ing the noise, we ran down to light the lamp and
help him. He was a pretty sight. His red
hair, which was thought so pretty by the other
side of the house, and his whiskers were full of
applesauce, as was his nightshirt. He had
fallen on the boiler and flattened it. He was
not hurt much, but he was mad, and went into
his room and slammed the door. Outside of
his room the verdict of satisfaction was unani
mous. Verrill was a proud, haughty, high-
stepper, and we knew there would be a prompt
investigation. We held a whispered consulta
tion in which secrecy and "never tell" were
pledged. Fortunately, no one but the criminals
knew who was in it. Next morning at chapel
after the girls had been dismissed the court-
martial began. Professor Allen in a grave,
sad voice, addressed us, and said the outrage to
Professor Verrill was one that could not be
overlooked. The perpetrator must be punished.
He hated to lose Professor VerrU, for he was a
good teacher. He appealed to our patriotism,
11

162 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
our manhood and everything else that he
thought would influence us, but there was no
response. He then asked that all who did not
have a hand in the affair rise. We all stood up.
He then asked that any one who knew anything
about it rise. No one got up. We had been
through this fire drUl before. He then turned
to Professor VerrUl, who sat there, his hair and
eyes snapping with anger. He jumped up and
said, "Professor Allen has appealed to your
patriotism and manhood, I will appeal to your
cupidity. " He took a ten dollar bill out of his
pocket and said, "I will give ten dollars to any
one who will name a person who had a hand in
this outrage." After a pause Roll Moore
slowly got up. There were six pairs of eyes
that looked daggers at him. He was the one
who smeared the applesauce on the stair-rail.
He said, "Professor, my mother is a poor
woman. She works hard to send me to school.
I have never earned anything to help her.
Ten dollars would be of great help to her. I
know who had a hand in this Outrage. " " Name
him," said Verrill. Moore stepped up to the
platform and Professor Verrill gave him the
money. "Name him," cried Verrill. "Well,"

HOME AGAIN 163
says Moore, "from all accounts. Professor, I
think that you had a hand in it." We were
hastily dismissed. For several days there were
frequent secret sessions of the faculty. Then
one morning Professor Allen said nothing would
come by publicity. It would probably embar
rass Professor Verrill more to have the story
get out than to have the parties punished, and
said that if we would promise to say nothing
about it, the matter would be dropped. We
all readily promised by a unanimous rising
vote. Roll Moore kept the money. Verrill
never asked him to return it. There was
nothing yellow about Verrill. He just had
red hair with all its accompaniments. He
was a good teacher — a very good mathema
tician. When spring came and the nights were warm
Professor Verrill would move his bed up to the
third story and put it in front of the open door
leading into the morgue. The boys could not
get under it and could not get over it without
wakening him. There was a large black cat
that Professor Verrill fed and protected, and
because of this she probably needed more
protection. Jim McKay got four large walnuts

164 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
and dug out the meat and sheU inside through
holes in the tops, and with strings fastened
them on the cat's feet and smuggled her into
our bedroom. There were no carpets on the
morgue floor, stairs or halls. About midnight
he let her go. As usual, she went straight to
Professor Verrill. Her feet with the dry shells
on the hard wood floors made as much noise as
a running horse. She sprang on Professor
Verrill and he, not knowing what it was, yelled
out in fright. She sprang on to the floor on the
other side through the open door and went
thumping down the stairs. The noise wakened
all the boys, who started in pursuit of her,
Verrill and Jim leading the search. They
chased the noise down the stairs, across the hall,
down the lower stairs and through the halls.
She was black and it was dark. They could not
see her, but the noise and clatter were great.
After much chasing they caught her, got a light
and found the walnuts on her feet. The whole
school was aroused. The girls were peeping
down the stairs from their side, and it was
some time before the house was quiet. There
was much quiet inquiry, but only Jim and I
knew and we did not tell. The cat never could

HOME AGAIN 165
be coaxed into our room again. She would
always look at her feet and raise her hair when
she saw Jim. In the next fall term George
Rexford came to the school. He had lost a leg
in the army, amputated far above the knee.
He hobbled around on one crutch, and on the
bare floors he made a good deal of noise that
was especially annoying to a nervous man like
Verrill. Rexford was a good, natural, fun-loving
soul and it amused him to see Verrill annoyed
at him. Verrill had married during the vaca
tion. His wife was consumptive, and her
father was rich. One day Rexford lost his
balance going down the stairs and stumbled and
rolled, landing on his back in front of VerriU's
room. Verrill rushed out and seeing Rexford
there said, "Rexford, what on earth do you
want?" Rexford grinned and said, "I want to
marry a rich man's daughter with a bad cough. "
Professor Verrill was not influenced to marry
her by her father's wealth or her cough. They
became engaged years before when she was well,
and it was her wish that they should be married.
She lived only a year or two after their marriage.
Verrill never got any of her father's wealth,
never expected nor asked for any of it. He was

166 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
hasty and jerky in his manner, impatient with
students who were indifferent to progress, but
when he saw a student trying earnestly, he was
very appreciative and kind. I owe him much
and thought highly of him. I was glad years
after that opportunity enabled me to help him
to a position that relieved him from want and
made his declining years peaceful and happy.
At commencement in June, 1868, 1 was one of the
students selected to deliver an address. I chose
Thaddeus Stevens for my subject. I admired
him for the great service that he had rendered
the country in his support of Lincoln in Congress.
I do not remember much about the address,
but I do remember that I was criticised and
ridiculed by the local Democratic newspapers.
Probably justly. My public utterances were
very crude affairs in those days.

CHAPTER XXX
Wellsboro
ik FTER commencement I went to Wellsboro
/-% and tried to get a clerkship in the stores
and groceries there, but I did not succeed.
I was very tall. The ceilings in the stores were
not very high, and the merchants hung many
of their wares on hooks and nails from the
ceiling. I had to dodge around them and one
merchant said that if he employed me he would
have to remove all of these things and he did
not know where to put them. Others probably
thought the same. I met Jerome B. Niles, a
lawyer, whom I knew at Mansfield. He asked
me what I was going to do. I said I did not
know. I told him of my efforts to get a clerk
ship. He asked me to come into his office and
study law. He suggested that I apply for the
Wellsboro Academy, that I could teach during
the day and study law nights, that Judge
Williams was one of the trustees and that I
should see him. I saw the Judge and he
encouraged me to apply. I did so and was given
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168 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
permission by the trustees to teach at the
Wellsboro Academy. That is, it was turned
over to me. There had been no school there for
several years. I paid no rent or royalty. I got
Miss Delia Rouse to assist me, as she was a very
capable teacher. We advertised for students,
and to my surprise when school opened there
were quite a number of students. I charged a
moderate tuition. I was my own janitor, and
swept the rooms and kept the fires. I registered
as a student-at-law with S. F.' Wilson and
Jerome B. Niles, taught school through the day
and studied law at night. Most of the students
were not very far advanced and I found no
difficulty with them. But there was one, a
farmer's son, who rode in from the farm on
horseback, who gave me much trouble.
Clarence Gorrie was a wonder. He was a natural
mathematician and studied algebra, geometry
and trigonometry. He was the only one in his
class of higher mathematics. I had to study
his lessons nights to be able to hear him recite.
He kept me busy, for I had never seen anyone
like him. He had no trouble, but I did. I did
not wish to show ignorance before him and I
just had to hustle. All through the fall, winter

WELLSBORO 169
and spring terms I studied mathematics harder
than he did. He never suspected me. He
should have been the teacher, I the pupil;
and really that was our position. I expected
him to become a teacher and fill a chair in some
coUege. Years afterward I met him. He was a
smaU, plain farmer, happy and contented with his
Hfe. His mathematics evidently did him no good.
After my experience with him I could better
appreciate Gray's Elegy of a Country Church
Yard. With the close of the spring term my
occupation as a teacher ceased. I may have
been influenced by the fear that Clarence Gorrie
would come back to my school. I should have
been grateful to him, for I learned more mathe
matics from him than I had learned from any
one, but I was not a teacher. I had become
interested in the law and found a liking for it.
Jim McKay came from the West, where he had
been working in the construction of the Union
Pacific Railroad, and entered the office as a
feUow student. He had a wonderful story of
being captured by the Indians and tied to the
stake, but before they kindled the fire, he was
rescued by the chief's daughter, who finally
aided him to escape. He showed scars which he

170 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
claimed were knife cuts made by the Indians.
He was quite popular with the young people and
was the same good, fun-loving fellow. The fact
that I did not believe his stories made no
difference in our friendship. In the winter of
1869 and 1870 WUson and Niles were both
absent. Wilson in Congress and Niles in the
Legislature. McKay and I ran the office with
the help of Gus Streeter from Westfield, who
came over to look after the practice while Wilson
and Niles were away. He was a congenial,
kind-hearted man. His specialty was divorce,
and he claimed to be quite successful in that
practice. There were several young men study
ing law in Wellsboro, James H. Bosard, Walter
Sherwood and others. We sometimes tried cases
before Alex. Brewster, the justice of the peace,
and other justices in the county. We were not
admitted to the bar, but no one objected.
Walter Sherwood and I represented Sam Maine
in a suit brought by him against Dan Ashley for
the value of a shoat or pig which Ashley had
taken up as a stray under an old statute which
provided that a trespassing pig, whose owner
was unknown and who had no registered mark
upon him, could be taken up and penned and.

WELLSBORO 171
after several weeks' notice posted on a tree at
the nearest crossroad, could be butchered and
retained by the person taking him up. Jim
Bosard tried the case for Ashley. The siiit
was before Squire Dick Kinney at Kinneysville.
Ashley knew whose pig it was, but claimed that
he did not. It developed on the trial that there
had been difficulty between Maine and Ashley
before. Bosard relied much on legal authorities
and had several books with him when the trial
began. A large number of witnesses were
subpoenaed upon both sides. The pig was worth
about three dollars. There were numerous
arguments on relevancy of testimony during
the trial. Bosard had the advanatge. We had
no books. A law book bound in leather has
much influence before a justice of the peace,
whether the case recited has any relevancy to
the matter in dispute or not. The squire was
very dignified and talked in grave, formal tones
which seemed to impress the audience. After
we had examined about a dozen witnesses, mostly
as to the value of the pig, Bosard opened his
defense and called fourteen witnesses, or two
more than we had called. I noticed that the
squire wrote down on a piece of foolscap paper

172 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
the name of each witness as he was sworn, and
after he left the stand he would seem to reflect
and then make some marks. Passing behind
him and glancing over his shoulder, I saw that
he had crossed out each name but two of the
defendant's witnesses. We called three more
witnesses in rebuttal and won the case. The
squire said that the weight of testimony was
with the plaintiff. After the trial I said to the
squire that his plan of cancellation to determine
the weight of testimony was a good one. He
said he found it so. We won the case by a
majority of one. After that I lost no cases
before Squire Kinney. We did not get much for
our services, which was the principal reason why
we were employed. We were pettifoggers, but
there were others who had not studied law.
Michael McMahon was quite noted. Some
times we tried cases before arbitrators. Either
party could take a rule upon the other to
arbitrate the case. At the return of the rule
each party would sfelect a man and these would
select a third. We had such a case at the
Blockhouse, a Dutch village some twenty miles
from WeUsboro. The plaintiff claimed one
hundred and fifty dollars for a horse sold the

WELLSBORO 173
defendant. The defendant claimed that the
price was one hundred doUars; after much
testimony and more argument the arbitrators
retired. Two of them had been on the jury at
the county seat. After being out a long time
the arbitrators filed into the room where all the
men and boys in the village had been impatiently
waiting for them. They seemed in a bewildered
and dejected state and looked as if something
serious had happened to them. They handed
the award to the defendant's attorney. It
was thirty -one dollars and twenty -five cents
for the plaintiff. Every one was surprised.
The plaintiff asked his arbitrator how they
came to find such an award. He said, "That
beats me. We figured it and figured it, and
it came out that way every time." "But
how did you figure it?" asked the plaintiff.
"Why, we all marked and added it up and
divided it by twelve, just as they always
do. I've been on the jury. I marked one
hundred and fifty. The defendant's man
marked one hundred. The third man spHt the
difference and marked one hundred and twenty-
five, and we added these three sums up and
divided the result by twelve. Figure it for

174 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
yourself. If it doesn't come out thirty-one
dollars and twenty-five cents I'll eat my hat.
We knew there was something wrong with it,
but danged if we could tell what. "
The winters were long and the weather very
cold in Wellsboro, much more so than in other
parts of the state, probably to obHge the people
who mostly came from states farther north.
There was no railroad to the town. A stage
coach brought the news once a day from Tioga,
seventeen miles away. There were no traveling
shows or minstrels, and we had to depend on
home talent for entertainment. A lawsuit was
generally tried at night before Squire Brewster,
so that all who desired could attend. The
audience was always large. For weeks farmers
had missed pork, hams, chickens, turkeys and
grain in Middlebury Township. Suspicion
settled on Cal Cady and his son-in-law, John
Johnson. They did not work and had no visible
means of support. They were arrested on
general suspicion and I defended them. Bosard
was attorney for the prosecution. Walter
Sherwood helped me, as we generally worked
together in law as well as poHtics. He was a
Democrat, I a RepubHcan. We helped each

WELLSBORO 175
other. There was a good audience before
Squire Brewster when the case of Commonwealth
vs. Cady and Johnson was called. A search of
their house revealed nothing. The neighbors
proved their losses, but there was no evidence
connecting the defendants with them. One
neighbor had lost a brass kettle. It was found
in a neighboring barnyard covered with loose
hay. There was much curiosity as to how the
kettle got there. It was discussed by the
attorneys upon both sides. There were crude
notions of law among the people called curb
stone law. They understood that a man could
not be put in jeopardy twice for the same
offense. Johnson was rather proud of his
dexterity in aiding the missing things to dis
appear. The squire discharged the defendants.
Johnson thought he had been once in jeopardy
and was immune from further arrest. He stood
up and said, "Now, if you want to know how
that brass kettle got there I can tell you."
That remark cost the defendants and their
friends two hundred and fifty dollars. They
were rearrested and had to pay for everything
missed in the neighborhood at prices estimated
by the owners.

176 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
We had a literary society or debating club
called the Hermaic Society. Hugh Young was
president of it. Major Merrick had become a
lawyer, and he, Walter Sherwood, James H.
Bosard, Charles Peck, E. B. Young, Jim McKay,
myself and others were members. We debated
many important questions of public interest
in the courthouse. The audience would decide
on the best arguments made. We would choose
sides. The president would select the chiefs,
one to uphold the affirmative and one the
negative. Then each chief would alternately
select a debater until our members were all
chosen. The town was deeply interested in
woman suffrage. Mrs. WoodhuU and Olive
Logan had both lectured in Wellsboro on the
question. The women were aroused and mani
fested as much interest and zeal then as they
do now. The men were as indifferent to the
question then as they are now. The Hermaic
Society decided to settle the question in a public
debate at the courthouse on a Saturday evening.
Major Merrick was chief for the affirmative of
the resolution, "Resolved, That women should
have the legal right to vote." I was chief for
the negative. After the debates were over the

WELLSBORO 177
women were to decide by a rising vote which
side had the weight of the argument. It looked
pretty blue for my side, but then, as now, the
claims for woman suffrage were presented by a
very few women and I had hopes that when it
came to a vote there might not be a majority
for it. The courthouse was filled with men and
women. Hugh Young presided. Merrick led
off with a strong plea for suffrage. He closed
amid great applause from the women. I
followed, but I observed that nearly all of my
applause came from the men. Then Merrick
called one of his side, then I called one of mine.
My debaters did not speak as vigorously as
they did at our room. They got no applause
from the women and very little from the men,
whose applause subsided when they saw that
the women only applauded Merrick's speakers.
When our debaters were all through Merrick
called Squire Emery, not a member, to speak
for the resolution. I thought my case was lost.
I could see no one whom I thought would speak
for my side. No one volimteered in response
to my request. Finally, I saw Steve Wilson
on the back seat. Congress had adjourned.
I did not know what his views on the question
12

178 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
were, but I thought that because I was a student
in his office he might help me out. The groimd
was slipping from under me. The women were
laughing at my pHght and in desperation I
called the Hon. S. F. WUson. The women
laughed and applauded. Wilson was a bachelor.
He got up and slowly said: "I did not expect
to be called to speak on this question. I don't
know whether I am for it or against it. I never
could see any reason why a good woman
should not have the right to vote if she wants
to, and I never could see any reason why a
gander should not set on eggs if he wants to.
I have never seen a gander set and I never
expect to see a woman vote." The women
were angry. The applause was loud from the
men. I called the question, but the women were
so mad that not one of them would vote and the
audience was dismissed. There were geese in
town and every one knew their habits. After
that the women did not speak so loud nor so
often for suffrage, and before summer came the
agitation was over. Wilson's brief speech
suppressed woman suffrage in Wellsboro as
quickly and effectively as the European war
suppressed it in England.

WELLSBORO 179
I do not intend to say much about other
people except where they have come into my
life, but I cannot refrain from speaking briefly
of Stephen F. Wilson. He was probably the
finest specimen of physical manhood that I
have ever seen. He was just the right height
and weight and had a manly, firm face, full of
love and sympathy for everybody. He was
absolutely honest and trlie to friendship, despised
deceit and crooked ways. He had a charm that
won everybody. He drank to excess and was
frequently seen on the streets intoxicated.
Tioga County was strong for temperance. There
were good templars societies in all the towns,
but for many years whenever he wanted the
votes of Tioga County he could always get a
majority of them. The people spoke of his
habit in sympathy and sorrow, never in anger.
Financially broke nearly all of the time, he yet
had the confidence and love of the people of
Tioga County beyond that of any other man.
He blundered into a great temperance meeting
on the green in a large tent one night without
knowing just where he was, for he was pretty
drunk. When the audience saw him they began
to cheer and call upon him for a speech. Some

180 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
thought he had come there to sign the pledge.
He began to realize where he was, and in
response to the continued calls of the audience,
said, "Mr. Chairman, I do not know why I am
here, nor how I got here. I was on my way to
Watkins' saloon, but I observe that this is a
temperance meeting and I am in full sympathy
with it. I am a temperance man drunk or sober. "
That illustrates Wilson. No matter what his
environment or the conditions surrounding him,
he would always ring true to his conscience and
judgment. He was afterwards elected judge
and when he was able to officiate he was a
splendid judge. After setting aside a verdict in
ejectment once, he remarked, "It takes thirteen
men in this court to steal a man's farm. The
plaintiff only has twelve. "
There were temperance meetings, temperance
lodges and societies and temperance orators in
those days. Temperance waves would sweep
over the county and for a time would absorb
much attention. Then it was in order to join
temperance societies and sign a pledge to stop
drinking. The lawyers signed the pledge.
They would be held up as bad examples if they
did not. A temperance revival swept over

WELLSBORO 181
Tioga county in 1871. Julius Sherwood signed
the pledge and he was joyfully welcomed as a
brand plucked from the burning. He was
invited to deliver an oration at a great temper
ance mass meeting and picnic at Blackwell's
Grove, a few miles from Wellsboro, on the fourth
of July. He was a very fine orator, but very
intemperate and could not get through a speech
without a drink. He usually would become ill
during his speech and retire to an anteroom
and get a drink from a flask in his pocket.
The oration was to be delivered in the grove and
there was no way for him to get a drink without
being seen. He was much troubled about it,
and various plans were discussed between him
and Steve Wilson. They finally hit upon a
plan. They got a glass pitcher half full of gin,
put some pieces of ice in it and Julius would
occasionally take a drink of it. The people did
not know much about gin. Their principal
drink was red eye. The gin looked like water
and it had no odor. There was a great audience.
The day was warm and fine. Julius was making
a great speech. He painted in glowing words
the despair and misery of a drunkard and the
suffering of his family. Enoch Blackwell, a

182 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
good man living in the vicinity, about sixty-five
years old, presided over the meeting. He sat
in a chair before the table on which stood the
pitcher of gin and a large kitchen tumbler
quite full. Enoch was the pillar of the school-
house church. He had never tasted liquor of
any kind. He got thirsty and while Jule was
thundering at the left wing of his audience
Enoch raised the glass of gin to his lips and
gulped down about half of it and immediately
proceeded to have all kinds of fits. He fell out
of his chair, strangled and choked. A man tried
to unfasten his collar and as he began to revive,
a good motherly soul grabbed the pitcher of
gin and poured its contents into his face, which
threw him into greater spasms. Another woman
drenched him with a pail of water. The local
doctor felt Enoch's pulse, rolled up his sleeve
and bled him. The meeting broke up. Enoch
came to and walked away on the arm of his
wife, but neither he nor any one else in the
neighborhood ever knew what ailed him. It
was always supposed that he had a stroke.
I have heard John B. Gough, Francis Murphy
and others. They were eloquent and their
appeals for sobriety were masterly. But the

WELLSBORO 183
greatest and best of all appeals to temperance
was that of Judge Alfred W. Arrington of
Ottawa, IlHnois, who before he became a lawyer
was a Methodist preacher. He was announced
to preach at a famous spring where plenty of
good liquor was promised to all who would
attend. During the sermon a desperado
demanded, "Where is the liquor you promised?"
"There," thundered Arrington, pointing to a
spring gushing up in two strong columns from
the bosom of the earth Avith a sound hke a shout
of joy. "There, there is the Hquor which God,
the Eternal, brews for all of his children. Not
in the simmering still over the smoky fires,
choked with poisonous gases, surroimded with
stench of sickening odors and corruptions, doth
your Father in Heaven prepare the precious
essence of life — ^pure, cold water — ^but in the
green glade and grassy dell, where the red deer
wanders and the child loves to play. There
God brews it; and down, low down in the deepest
valleys, where the fountains murmur, and the
rills sigh; and high upon the mountain tops,
where the naked granite gUtters Hke gold in the
sun, where the storm cloud broods and the
thunder storms crash ; and far out on the wide.

184 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
wild sea, where the hurricane howls music and
the big waves roll the chorus, sweeping the
march of God — there he brews it, the beverage
of life, health-giving water. And everywhere
it is a thing of life and beauty — gleaming in the
dew drop; singing in the summer rain; shining
in the icy gem till the trees all seem turned to
Hving jewels; spreading a golden veil over the
Sim or a white gauze around the midnight moon;
sporting in the glacier; folding its bright snow
curtain softly about the wintry world; and
weaving the many-colored bow whose warp is
the raindrops of earth, whose woof is the
sunbeam of Heaven, all checkered over with the
mystic hand of refraction — still it is beautiful,
that blessed life water! No poisonous bubbles
are on its brink; its foam brings not murder and
madness; no blood stains its liquid glass; pale
widows and starving orphans weep not burning
tears into its depths; no drunkards — shrieking
ghost from the grave curses it in a world of
eternal despair. Beautiful, pure, blessed and
glorious. Speak out, my friend, would you
exchange it for the demon's drink, alcohol?"
One deeply interesting character in WeUs
boro was Uncle Fred BunneU. He was Hable

WELLSBORO 185
to startle his hearers with apt and imexpected
remarks. Before the Franco-German war it
was customary in England for young men to
pattern after the Prince of Wales, also for young
men in France to pattern after Napoleon.
They wore their beards like them, dressed like
them and aped their mannerisms, and not
infrequently resembled them and were sometimes
taken for them on the streets. Uncle Fred was
traveling from New York to Buffalo. In the
smoking room of the parlor car with him was
a young Frenchman and a young Englishman.
They were in turn relating occasions when they
were embarrassed by being taken for their
patrons. The Frenchman related several occa
sions when he was taken for Napoleon and the
Englishman related occasions when he was
taken for the Prince of Wales. They were
proud of it. They ran out of talk after a while
and one of them turned to Uncle Fred and
asked if he was ever taken for the President.
Uncle Fred said no, he was never taken for the
President, or General Grant, but a few years
ago he was traveling in Arizona. The train
stopped at a little town for some minutes. He
got out on the platform to stretch his legs.

186 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
when up rushed a chap he had known in WeUs
boro, slapped him on the back and said, " Great
God! is that you?"
While at Mansfield I became acquainted with
Ellen Stevens, a student there. Her father was
a farmer in Middlebury Township on the toll
plankroad from Wellsboro to Tioga village,
seventeen miles from Wellsboro. We became
engaged to be married. On the fourth of July,
1870, I hired an old worthless mare from Bob
Ketcham, the Hveryman, with a wagon and
harness no better than the mare, and went down
to Mrs. Stevens' to spend the fourth with
Ellen. I got this rig for nothing. No one else
would have it, and while I did, it saved her
board. Ellen was a sensible girl. It was me
she wanted to see, not the mare, and as I drove
down at night when the crows were all at roost
it did not matter. There were to be fireworks at
Wellsboro. I had contributed towards it and
as I was starting away the boys put some of the
fireworks in the box under the wagon seat.
There were Roman candles, skyrockets, pin-
wheels, etc. I knew about them, but I forgot
all about them until I had gone part way home.
I had had great difficulty in urging the mare to

WELLSBORO 187
travel faster than a walk. It was a beautiful
moonhght night. I had matches, and taking out
the fireworks I began to set them off. The old
mare went to sleep, so I did not tie her. She
always seconded the motion to stop, and was
not afraid of anything. It was about two
o'clock in the morning. I lighted a skyrocket,
instead of going up in the air as it was supposed
to do, it took a meadow snipe course and shied
under the old mare and exploded there. The
mare started, I had never known her to refuse
to stop instantly at the word "Whoa!" but she
refused this time. On she went. I chased her,
calHng "Whoa!" but she would not stop.
She was outrunning me. It was ten miles to
Wellsboro. I could never get up to her. I
hoped old Hall, who kept the tollgate, would
hear her and let down the gate. He always
heard us while I was in the wagon, but he did
not that night, and I never caught up to the
beast until she stopped in front of the livery
stable in Wellsboro.

CHAPTER XXXI
Admitted to the Bar and Married
WHEN the September court came in
1870 I applied for admission to the
bar. The court appointed a com
mittee to examine me. We met about ten
o'clock and my examination did not seem
satisfactory to the committee. When we
adjourned at luncheon one of them remarked
that I did not seem to understand the rules.
I asked him what rules. He said that I had
better ask one recently admitted, and I did so.
When we met in the afternoon, they found that
I had complied with the rules. There were
whiskey and cigars, and when we adjourned I
wrote my own certificate and guided the pen
of one of them while he signed it. I was found
fit to practice law by a unanimous vote, and was
admitted and took the oath. Ellen Stevens
and I were married soon after my admission to
the bar and we began housekeeping in Wellsboro.
There was more litigation in Tioga County
then than there is now, but there was very little
(188)

ADMITTED TO THE BAR 189
business for young lawyers. I kept a cow and
had a garden, and my wife did most of the work
in the house. I milked the cow, spHt the wood
and worked the garden. In 1871 the rail
road was completed to Wellsboro. This had
been an event long looked for. Uncle Fred
Bimnel had declared that the railroad would
make Wellsboro a seaport town and many
beheved it. It was decided that the event
should be properly celebrated. The principal
promoters and owners of the road were the
Magee family of New York. A day was set
and great preparations made. Governor Horatio
Seymour of New York was to deliver the
address. Subscriptions were made for a dinner
and necessary expenses, and for the first time
at a public dinner in WeUsboro, champagne was
to be served. Every one in the county was
invited, and many people came. The band
had practiced for two weeks. General George
Magee, president of the road, was the hero of
the day, and the band was to play "Hail to the
Chief" for him. A platform some twenty feet
square was erected near the station, with seats
for the speakers and invited guests. The
sheriff, Ed. Fish, was the marshal, with some

190 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
dozen aides. I was an aide. We had large»
wide, red sashes over our shoulders. When
the train came in there was great applause.
The platform was occupied and the marshal
ordered me to clear it, but I had some trouble.
I explained that it was for the speakers and
invited guests. I got them all off but one old
man with a cane, who refused to go; said he
was an invited guest and he could speak, too.
Seeing the procession coming, I wasted no more
words, but seized the old fellow, wrenched the
cane from him, threw it off the platform and
shoved him after it. He swore at me, but his
noise was drowned by the band. The speeches
were good. The singing by the girls dressed
to represent the different states was very good,
for they had been well drilled by Dr. Webb.
Then we adjourned to the Cone House, now the
Coles House, where an excellent dinner was
served, with champagne. Many men at that
dinner had never tasted it before. I had often
heard my wife talk of Uncle Jason Smith, a
well-to-do farmer living over on the eastern
border of the county. He was a widower, had
no children or nephews, and my wife was his
favorite niece. There was talk about his

ADMITTED TO THE BAR 191
wiUing the farm to her. He was said to be
eccentric and peculiar, but he was fond of my
wife and we could overlook his peculiarities.
I had never seen him. When the dinner was
over I went up to the house. There was a
stranger there. My wife introduced him as
Uncle Jason. He was the old man I had
shoved off the platform. I bolted out of the
house and did not come back until he had gone.
He had been telling her of the scoundrel who
had misused him and my wife had heartily
sympathized with him. We did not get the
farm, and I never saw or heard of Uncle Jason
after that.
There were four counties in our judicial
district or circuit: Tioga, Potter, McKean and
Elk. There were two judges : H. W, WiUiams
and R, G. White, both residing in WeUsboro.
They would hold court at the county seats in
the different counties at fixed term days. They
were both good judges. They were paid
sixteen himdred dollars each annually. Several
of the older lawyers would usually accompany
the judge whose turn it was to hold the court in
the other counties. The roads were poor.
There were no railroads and they always went

192 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
on horseback. It was caUed riding the circuit.
One June term, for some reason, neither White
nor Williams could hold the court in Potter
County and Judge Galbraith was invited to
hold the court. Coudersport, the county seat
of Potter County, was about fifty miles from
Wellsboro. The day before the court was to
begin Steve Wilson, Jule Sherwood, Mort Elliott,
Major Merrick and James Lowrey started out
early for Coudersport on horseback. They had
with them Abel Strait, a witness in a case in
Coudersport. Abel Strait was a tall, straight
man about sixty — smooth-faced and very dig
nified in appearance. He looked every bit the
bishop or judge. He did odd jobs about town,
but on this occasion he was well dressed as
became an important witness in an important
case. About half way between Wellsboro and
Coudersport was the half-way house kept by a
widow named Taggert. She was a tall, strong,
dark woman about fifty and was known far and
near as Aunt Cene Taggert. She kept a
respectable house, but sold Hquor when she
could get a Hcense from the court and some
times a Httle on the sly when she had no Hcense.
She was pretty safe to bring down a deer at one

ADMITTED TO THE BAR 193
hundred yards with her rifle at the shoulder.
She was Hked and respected and the judges and
lawyers going between Wellsboro and Couders
port always stayed over night at her hotel.
The refreshments of our travelers were exhausted
long before they reached Aunt Cene's and they
reahzed that they would not be welcome.
Certain unsettled scores against Wilson and
Sherwood would not add to their welcome, and,
besides. Aunt Cene was a little pecuhar and
eccentric. She had seen too many inebriated
lawyers to fiU her with proper respect for the
profession. They rode in silence for some
time, when Steve Wilson announced that they
would pass Abel Strait off on Aunt Cene as
Judge Galbraith. She was applying for a
Hcense that term of court and had never seen
Abel Strait or Judge Galbraith. He promised
that he would not talk and they could trust
him if he did not get a drink. If their scheme
worked they knew they would get a good dinner
and she would not mention their accounts.
They rode up to the hotel with formality and
dignity and got down slowly. Aunt Cene stood
in the open door with her arms akimbo and did
not return their bows and greetings. She

194 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
looked a little surprised, probably because they
aU appeared to be sober. Then WUson led Abel
up and with much deference introduced him as
Judge Galbraith. Instantly, Aunt Cene's ice
melted. She welcomed them heartily. She
took the judge into the best room and seated
him in the best chair. She started a couple of
boys off fishing and made lively preparations
for a good dinner. The dinner was good, the
trout crisp, the venison tender and her famous
warm biscuits were never better. She was very
gracious to the judge, who said very little as
instructed. After dinner they aU sat in the
living room and listened to Wilson's stories.
He was the best teller of stories that ever lived
in that country. Aunt Cene watched her
opportunity and motioned to the judge. He
followed her into the pantry, where she showed
him a secreted quart bottle of mountain dew,
telling him to help himself whenever he wished
to, but under no circumstances to teU the rest.
He faithfuUy observed her instructions and
after the second trip to the pantry he began to
manifest a desire to talk. Wilson admonished
him with his boot, but after the third trip to the
pantry the judge, pointing to an apple tree

ADMITTED TO THE BAR 195
plainly seen in the moonlight through the
uncurtained window, said, "Right out thar
under that ar apple tree Ole Roarabacher gin
me twenty -five cents oust for skinnin' a dog."
Aunt Cene sprang up, saying, "You are no
judge. No judge ever skinned a dog and no
man could ever be a judge that would skin a
dog. " The cyclone had struck, but fortunately
the lawyers through forced temperance had
reached a normal condition and were able to
partially persuade Aunt Cene that they had a
bet that they could fool her and that Steve
Wilson had lost. They were permitted to stay
all night. They got no trout nor biscuits for
breakfast. The lawyers had beds, but Judge
Galbraith slept on the floor.
Wellsboro had many strange characters who
seemed to glory in the fact that they were queer.
Old Allen Daggett was a forty-niner who had
crossed the plains in 1849 during the gold craze
and had seen many hardships. He had been a
candidate for sheriff of Tioga County several
times. In 1871 he was again a candidate for
sheriff at the Republican primaries. He called
on me. We had not previously met. He was a
tall, lean man, all bone and muscle, and wore a

196 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
long linen duster, a wide-brimmed straw hat, a
pair of long-legged boots with his trousers tucked
in them. He talked to me about the sheriff's
campaign. I said, "There is no use; my sym
pathy is with the forty-niner. " He said, "That's
me." He was satisfied. His opponent was Ed.
Fish . He belonged to the Methodist Church, the
Masons, the Odd Fellows, and the Sons of Tem
perance. AUen Daggett had not joined any of
these societies. He was a forty-niner and, while
he was the only forty-niner in the county, it made
no difference. A forty-niner was a forty-niner.
We had the Crawford County system. Each
voter voted at the primaries for the candidate he
preferred. The election officers simply counted
and certified the votes that each candidate got.
The candidate receiving the largest vote was
declared nominated by the convention. A few
days before election Hi. Hastings, Fred. Wright,
John Bailey, WiU. Kress, Kim McKay, AUen
Daggett and I were in Ed. Brewster's meat shop.
The Republican vote of the county was about
three thousand. Wright asked Daggett of his
prospects. He said he was sure to be nominated.
He said he had over two thousand pledges.
Wright, who was a Democrat, said, "Allen, I

ADMITTED TO THE BAR 197
wiU bet you ten dollars that you don't get two
himdred votes." Allen had conducted a very
economical campaign. He had cozened and
visited over the coimty. His total outlay was
about ten dollars, and he thought he would surely
get more than tWo hundred votes and get his
ten dollars back. He drew out a tin tobacco
box and raised the lid. There was a yellow
piece of plug tobacco and a ten-dollar bill in it
about as yellow as the tobacco. He said, "I will
take that bet." Wright produced ten dollars
and Ed. Brewster took the money as stakeholder.
Election passed and Allen Daggett got about
one hundred and fifty votes. Fish got the rest.
After it was all over we gathered in Ed, Brew
ster's butcher shop. Daggett was there. Brew
ster said Wright had won the bet and he was
ready to pay the stakes over to him. Daggett
got up slowly from the meat block where he sat.
He said, "Yes, I have lost the bet. I reckon
Brewster must pay the money over to Wright.
I am disappointed. There were only about
three thousand votes polled. I had two
thousand pledges. Well, boys, I may never run
for sheriff again, but I may, and if I do I wiU
win. I wUl join the Methodist Church, I will

198 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
join the Masons, I will join the Odd Fellows,
I will join the Sons of Temperance, and I will
join the Sons of Bitches. That is what
nominated Fish."
Politics interested all of the younger lawyers
at the bar. Henry M. Foote had become a
lawyer, and John W. Mathers, Horace Packer
and others were lawyers. Henry W. Williams was
the judge, John I. MitcheU, M. F. Elliott, David
Cameron, Henry Sherwood, William Smith, Cap
tain John Sh aw and others were lawyers . General
R. C. Cox was appointed General of the Thir
teenth Division of the National Guard and I was
appointed adjutant-general, with the rank of
lieutenant-colonel. I never got a uniform, but
did get the name of colonel, which has clung to
me ever since. General Cox attained the
highest rank of any man from Tioga County in
the Civil War. His son Henry and I were great
friends. John H. Shearer, Henry Cox and I
often fished together. We knew every trout
stream in the county. They were splendid fly
fisherman, and Henry and I fished together
every season until he died in 1915. Shearer
died long before that. The Odd Fellows' lodge
to which Jim Bosard, Hugh Young, Walter

ADMITTED TO THE BAR 199
Sherwood and many others belonged was a kind
of social club, and we had much fun with Jol^i
Wortendyke and Moses Yale and Chandler,
who took the order seriously. Colonel Gregg of
Centre County came to Wellsboro and spent a
year there. He had been colonel of the Forty-
fifth Pennsylvania Volunteers, in which regiment
were a good many Tioga Coimty men. The
colonel was very popular and was invited to
deliver addresses in many places in the county.
It pleased him. He was a rabid Republican,
and very profane. He was very sincere and
could not bear the interruptions of Democrats
in his meetings. He was to dehver an address
at Mainsburg, near Mansfield, on the fourth
of July. He prepared it with great care. He
had much in it about General Jackson and the
Battle of New Orleans. In the midst of his
work he hurriedly put on his coat and went
down town to see Hugh Young, who was an
authority on history and general literature.
Hugh kept the bookstore, was a justice of the
peace and postmaster. He asked Hugh how old
General Jackson was when he fought the Battle
of New Orleans. Hugh said he did not know.
He would look it up, but he asked the colonel

200 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
why he wished to know. "Why," said the
colonel, "I am to deliver the oration at Mains
burg on the fourth and I have a good deal to say
about General Jackson and the Battle of New
Orleans. " "But why do you wish to know how
old he was when the battle was fought?" asked
Hugh. "Suppose, said the colonel, some d — ^n
Democrat should get up and ask me that
question. I want to be prepared to answer
him." Pat Donahue lived next door to Jim Bosard.
Pat's house was set on the rear end of his lot.
Jim was constructing a chicken coop on the
rear end of his lot and Pat thought it would
shut off the light to his house. He could not
get Jim to change his plan and went from one
lawyer to another to get them to file a bill
against Bosard. None of them liked to take a
case against a fellow attorney and Pat could not
get any one to take his case. When the last
lawyer refused Pat's patience was exhausted.
"You're a d — ^n pretty set. You won't take a
case against your own sex." He hurried home.
Jim was at work at his chicken coop. Pat
pulled off his coat and there was a fight. When
Jim got around again he was persuaded by the

ADMITTED TO THE BAR 201
other lawyers not to prosecute Pat for assault
and battery. They all felt a little ashamed of
it, for Pat should have had his opportunity in
court. There was very little sympathy for
Bosard, who had told Pat that he could not
get a lawyer to take a case against him. Jim
was pretty badly battered up and his face was
ornamented with court plaster for a time, but
no bones were broken and he soon got over it,
but the chicken coop was abandoned.
In the Legislature of 1872 I was appointed
transcribing clerk by John I. MitcheU, who had
been elected a member. I passed the winter in
Harrisburg very pleasantly. I roomed with
Mitchell. He became a recognized leader and
was afterwards congressman. United States
senator, and judge of Tioga County and judge of
the Superior Court of the state. I learned some
politics there. Simon Cameron was in the
United States Senate and Robert W. Mackey and
M. S. Quay were his recognized lieutenants.
Reciprocity was recognized and men who ceased
to be able to deliver delegates were rewarded
for what they had done. Now rewards are
rarely given except for what you are expected
to do. Men were loyal and true to Cameron,

202 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
who never broke a promise and always took care
of his friends. He was loved and respected by
the great majority of the people in the state.
When the legislature adjourned I went back to
WeUsboro.

CHAPTER XXXII
Wilson's Campaign for Judge
I THINK it was in 1873 that S. F. Wilson
became a candidate for additional law
judge for our district, composed of Tioga,
Potter, Elk and McKean counties. I was much
interested for Wilson and went with him over
the county. F. E. Smith was his opponent.
We were going down Breed's Hill near the block
house in a single-seated covered buggy with two
horses. The top set well forward. You had to let
it down or climb out over the wheel to get out,
I was driving and the hill was long and steep.
The neck yoke broke and let the buggy on to the
horses and we had a runaway. On one side of
the road was a deep gutter and the buggy was
sometimes in the gutter and sometimes shoving
the horses, who were running their best. We
finally landed at the foot of the hill in a crash,
the horses getting loose, Wilson was very pale
and groaning. Some men mowing nearby came
running and lifted the buggy off of us, I was
not much hurt, but Wilson was badly injured,
(203)

204 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
His thigh was broken. A boy was hurriedly
sent for the nearest doctor, and they carried
Wilson into a house nearby. None of the people
could speak English. It was a Dutch settle
ment. Soon Dr. Wentz came galloping over
the hill on a large horse, his saddle bags swinging
under him. He hauled up and got down and
carried his saddle bags into the room where
Wilson lay on a rough couch. Dr. Wentz was
a tall man, old and nervous. He straightened
Wilson's legs out on the couch and pressed on
both feet to see which limb was broken. Wilson
threatened to kiU him if that was repeated. He
passed a very bad night and at times I thought
he would die, but in the morning he was better,
and we got a doctor from the blockhouse. This
was Friday and the primaries were a week from
Saturday. Wilson had hardly any money and
could not get out until long after the election.
The rumor spread that he was drunk when the
runaway occurred. I saw that he was com
fortable, extorted a promise from him not to
withdraw or make any pub He statement and
started for Wellsboro to carry on his campaign.
He said it was no use, but I had hopes. With
what money I had and what I could borrow I

WILSON'S CAMPAIGN 205
got together four hundred dollars. I got three
good men and had the money changed into one-
and two-dollar bills. One man took a hundred
dollars over to the Cowanesky River, another
took the same amount into the Tioga Valley,
the third went into the mines about Blossburg.
Walter Sherwood and I took WeUsboro and the
two large townships of Delmar and Charleston. '
In previous campaigns there had been very
Httle money used. My plan was simply to hire
farmers in each neighborhood to bring Wilson
men to the polls with their teams. The most
of them would come any way and a dollar or
two for the team looked big to them. I never
put in a busier week and Wilson's friends were
at work in Wellsboro. There were about three
thousand votes poUed in the county and in
Delmar, Charleston and Wellsboro we gave
Wilson nearly a thousand votes. There were
never so many teams seen at the election before.
The vote was very close and Wilson won by a
majority of eleven votes. The Smith men
claimed fraud, the poUing of Democratic votes,
and several other things. A committee of
investigation was appointed and I was a member
of that committee, but it never made any report.

206 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
Wilson's name went on the ticket. He was
elected, but he did not get out of the little
Dutch house for two or three months and was
lame and walked with a cane ever after his
accident. Smith never forgave me, but I did not
care. It was generally said that Wilson owed his
nomination to me, but I did not think so entirely.
He was very popular and his friends stood
manfully by him. I went to see Tom Jones, a
farmer living on the ridge, to get him to take
his team to election. He had four sons, all
voters. He was strong for temperance and
would not listen to Wilson talk. I talked to one
of his neighbors about it, and he said Jones was
opposed to laAvyers generally, because some
years before he had signed a contract to become
agent for the sale of fanning mills, and after
wards the contract had been cut in two and sent
to a bank, it being a promissory note to which
there was no defense. I asked the name of the
lawyer who represented the bank. He did not
know, but the bank was in Tioga. I knew there
was but one bank in Tioga and Smith was its
attorney, a director and stockholder. I went
back to Jones. I asked him about the fanning
mill case and he became very angry and said he

WILSON'S CAMPAIGN 207
was sorry that he had to vote for a lawyer for
judge. I asked him if he had any papers in the
case. He had and brought me some letters.
He then produced a circular letter sent him by
Smith and saw for the first time that his candi
date for judge was the same lawyer that made
him pay the fanning mill note. That settled it.
Wilson got five votes in that family and would
have gotten eight if the old woman and the two
girls could have voted.

CHAPTER XXXIII
Ku Klux Outrages
THE accounts in the papers of the Ku
Klux outrages in the South interested
me and in company with three friends
I went south to investigate. We went into
Chatham County, North Carolina, where they
were said to be the worst, and remained there
about two weeks. We quietly investigated
several cases, and in each case we reached the
conclusion that the social conditions and offenses
charged justified the punishment. One case
happened near where we were stopping. A
white woman and colored man were Hving in a
little one- room log hut as man and wife, but
were not married. The Ku Klux riders whipped
them and then tied the man astride of a pole
some four feet from the ground and left him
there aU night. As he had nothing on but a
pair of trousers and the mosquitoes were thick,
he suffered from them considerably, but his
offense was great in the opinion of the people.
He was released in the morning on his promise
(208)

KU KLUX OUTRAGES 209
to leave the neighborhood. The offenses were
stealing and failure to observe social relations
generally. No doubt there were many cases
much more serious, but we did not find any.
We were strong Republicans and came home
with the opinion that these accounts of Ku Klux
outrages were very much exaggerated.
It was expected by my friends that Wilson
would help me by court appointments when he
got on the bench, but he did not. On the
contrary, he tried to show that he was not
partial to me. He stood so straight in this
respect that he leaned a little backwards. His
intentions were all right, but he was determined
to be an impartial judge. He pushed me pretty
hard and scolded me more than he did any other
lawyer. I got restive under it and one day in
court after he had been pretty rough on me I
lost my temper and said, "I don't want any
favors. I expect the same treatment that you
give to others. This is my right, but you are
teaching me, by your unnecessary discrimina
tion against me, to regret that you were elected
a judge." The lawyers all looked approval.
Wilson paused for half a minute and then
slowly said: " Maybe you are right. I owe my
14

210 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
election to you, but while on the bench I don't
wish to feel that I am under any obligation to
you for it. But there is no reason why you
should be treated any different from the others
and I will try to see that you have no just cause
of complaint." After that I had no cause of
complaint, though I never had any unusual
favors from him. But I expected none and did
not look for any when I worked for his election.
Wellsboro was a quiet, modest little vUlage
of twelve hundred people. There were no
police guards or watchmaUv of any kind. A
burglary or robbery was unknown. The only
bank in town was robbed one night and all the
cash and bonds stolen. The robbers, five or six
of them, came from the State of New York.
They tied and gagged the president, his wife
and daughter and son. They carried the son,
who was the cashier, into the bank and forced
him by threats of torture to open the combina
tion safe. After the robbery they all got away.
There was great excitement in the community,
and farmers and town people tramped the roads
with guns, revolvers, pitchforks and axes, look
ing for them. They had divided the spoils and
separated, but one of them, Mike Cosgrove,

KU KLUX OUTRAGES 211
was captured and identified by the president's
family. Court soon convened and he was put
on trial. To all questions concerning the
robbery he would answer, "Nixy, weeden."
L. P. Wilhston, who had served four years as a
United States judge in one of the territories,
defended him. The courthouse was filled with
people. When the trial began Cosgrove was
brought into the courthouse handcuffed by
Steve Brown, sheriff. Judge Williston arose and
with great indignation denounced the sheriff
for handcuffing the prisoner. Judge Wilson
asked the sheriff why he did not take the
handcuffs off. The sheriff said that the prisoner
insisted on keeping them on. There was great
excitement and craning of necks. Judge Wilson
said, "Very well, this is a free country. A man
may wear bracelets if he wishes. If the prisoner
prefers handcuffs as bracelets no one should
object; least of all the prisoner's counsel. The
court does not. Proceed. " After this remark
of the judge the excitement subsided and the
trial proceeded. On several indictments the
prisoner was convicted and sentenced to the
full penalties.

CHAPTER XXXIV
District Attorney
IN 1874 I became a candidate for district
attorney. The primaries were in September.
There were thirty-five boroughs and town
ships in the county. My opponents were
Horace B. Packer and Gus Redfield. We made
quite a spirited contest in the county, visiting
the voters in the villages and on the farms.
Packer had one advantage over me. He drove
his father's old horse Bob, and Bob was known
by every one in Delmar and Charleston. The
sight of the horse would revive recollections of
many kind acts of the doctor and many a serious
illness that he had brought them through, but
I had been a soldier, and the soldier vote was
strong. My father had a beautiful iron-gray
mare. She was a fine stepper and held her head
up high, so I borrowed her and we toured the
county. Country people like a good horse and
she got me many votes. In fact, she got more
attention and admiration than I did. I went
over to a man plowing. He said, "Can you
(212)

DISTRICT ATTORNEY 213
turn as good a furrow as that?" I said that he
was doing very good work. I probably could
not do as well, but I could plow. He turned
the plow over to me. I think I turned a better
furrow, but did not say so. He was satisfied
and promised his support. One Saturday
afternoon while going through a piece of woods
I came upon eight or ten men shooting at a
black knot in a board. The knot was about an
inch and a half in diameter, but none of them
had hit it. There had been a number of shots,
as evidenced by bullet holes around it. I told
them my business. One of them said, "If you
can hit that knot I think you would make a
good district attorney." I said, "I could
shoot at it. That is all that you fellows seem
to be doing." I took the rifle, made a quick
sight and fired. The knot was gone; I don't
know whether I hit it or the board and jarred
the knot out, but I was a fairly good shot then.
They all said they would vote for me. The
county was pretty large and I could not cover
it all. I had to leave the mines until the last
week of the campaign. In Blossburg, Fall
Brook, Morris Run and Arnot, known as the
mines, there were five or six hundred Republican

214 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
votes, and my opponents had spent much time
there. The people were Catholics and mostly
foreign. I went to Barney Murray's saloon in
Blossburg and told him that I supposed I was too
late to get any votes. "Begorry, " he said, "you
will get the most of them. Father McDermitt's
been taUcin' to the byes for yez. He wants to
see yez." I knew Father McDermitt. A year
before when the little Catholic Society in Wells
boro had bought the Old Academy building for
a parish church MUce Conway had brought
Father McDermitt to me to examine the title
and transact the business. When it was
through I declined to take a fee from him because
the lawyers in Wellsboro never charged a
clergyman for services. Father McDermitt
said that was no reason why I should not be paid
a fee because he was a Catholic priest. I told
him that made no difference, a preacher was a
preacher and I would make no discrimination.
I had forgotten the matter, but Father McDer
mitt had not and he had made the most of it
to my advantage. I called on him and he was
quite enthusiastic. He told me to spend my
time in other places. I went away. I carried
the mines by a large majority. I got more

DISTRICT ATTORNEY 215
votes than either of my opponents and became
the party candidate. The convention was held
at Tioga. After it was over Seely Frost of
Roseville told me that he had promised my
services to a Mrs. Ashton, who was prosecuting
Charles Sherman for assault and battery before
Squire Pat Longwell in Roseville. There was
much public sentiment for her. Seely Frost
had been very strong for me in my campaign
and I promised to be on hand and try her case.
There had been a water famine in RosevUle.
Mrs. Ashton 's husband had told Charley Sher
man to come to his pump and get water. When
he came with a bucket she got hold of the pump
handle and would not let him get the water.
There was not enough water for her family.
He pushed her rudely away and in the mdl6e
she was slightly hurt. It was a matter between
Charley Sherman's wife and Mrs. Ashton's
husband. The warrant had been served and
Sherman had demanded a jury trial before the
justice. The justice had written the names of
twelve freeholders of the township and the
prosecutor and defendant had alternately crossed
out each three names. The six remaining were
the jury. Henry Allen of Mansfield was

216 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
attorney for the defendant. Pat Longwell had
recently been elected and had tried no cases
before. I had never met Pat Longwell, but had
heard much of his oddity and drollness. I
drove over to RoseviUe early, as I wanted to see
what shape the justice had his record in, for it
was seldom that a justice's record could be
sustained on a writ of certiorari. He came to
the door in response to my knock, and I told
him I was to take part in the trial before him.
He said, "Which side be you on?" I said,
"The woman's." He said, "Come in. Henry
Allen is on the other side and we will have a
hard time to beat him. " Allen was a very
aggravating lawyer. He, Frank Clark and John
Adams were the attorneys in Mansfield. Trials
before magistrates there frequently ended in
fist fights between the lawyers, and AUen was
feared by all the magistrates. He would make
all kinds of objections and annoy and enrage
them in every way. I asked to see the docket.
There was none. I asked to see the papers.
He had none. I said, "Where is the paper that
was served on the jurors?" He studied a
minute, and going to the taU old family clock
brought from the top a sheet of foolscap paper

DISTRICT ATTORNEY 217
with about one-third of it chewed off. He said,
"I saw the children chasing the dog with
something in his mouth. This is the paper."
It was the list of the twelve men from which the
jury was selected. He said the constable might
have some papers, but that was all that he had.
But he had a good memory and plenty of
foolscap paper and a pencil. I told him I would
make him up a record and if Allen took the case
to court he must copy it, date it and sign it.
He promised and I constructed a record from
the facts which he gave me, writing it out plain
in pencil. As no lawyers were present at the
former meetings and the docket did not have
to go to court on a writ of certiorari, I had hopes
that the judgment would be sustained. When
the trial began at one o'clock in the large bar
room of the Rose Hotel the room was packed
with men, women and children. The sympathy
for Mrs. Ashton was strong, not so much on
account of the fuss at the pump, but on account
of the misconduct of Ashton and Sherman's
wife. Squire Longwell sat behind a small table
in great dignity. It was his first trial and the
eyes of his neighbors were upon him. He was
not a learned man, and his grammar was poor.

218 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
but he had horse sense. Allen objected to all
of my questions and on each objection Pat
would say, "The court overrules the objection."
Once Allen began an argument in support of an
objection. When Pat said, "Mr. Allen, the
court overrules your argument," Allen says,
"Will the court advise my client?" Pat said,
"Mr. Allen, the court cannot advise your client,
but if it could it would advise him to get a
lawyer or plead guilty." When the evidence
was all in and the arguments were through, Pat
charged the jury. He said in substance:
"Gentlemen of the jury, it is for you and not
for the court to pass on this evidence. If the
court was to pass on this evidence it would find
the defendant guilty pretty d — n quick and I
expect you will do the same. Tom Ashton had
no business to carry on so with Sherman's wife. "
There had been no evidence about Ashton and
Sherman's wife, but the audience applauded
the charge of the court. Allen was frantic.
He began to write rapidly. The jury were out
about two minutes and brought in a verdict of
guUty. Again there was loud applause in the
court room. Pat told Sherman to stand up.
Allen demanded that sentence be delayed until

DISTRICT ATTORNEY 219
he could write out reasons in support of his
motion for arrest of judgment. Pat got the
idea that he must impose sentence before Allen
filed his motion for suspension of sentence, that
after the motion he could not sentence. In
response to Allen's demand for delay, he said,
"Mr. Allen, the court can't wait. Charles
Sherman, stand up." He stood up and Pat
sentenced him to pay a fine and costs. I went
down to Pat's house and completed the record,
with the events of the trial, and went home.
AUen sued out a writ of certiorari, and, instead
of following my instructions, Pat signed the
penciled record that I had made and sent it to
court. Judge Williams knew my handwriting
and came to see me about it. I told him the
facts. He laughed heartily and decided that,
"The court is not familiar with the handwriting
of Justice LongweU. It is presumed that the
return is correct. There is no provision in law
that the return must be written in ink. The
magis,trate, while strongly intimating his opinion
of the facts, still told the jury that it was for
them to pass on the evidence. The judgment
of Justice Longwell is affirmed and the excep
tions dismissed. "

220 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
I had left the office of Wilson and Niles and
had an office of my own. I had become
acquainted with John Adams of Mansfield.
He was to defend a woman in his vicinity
charged with murder of her child. He had made
great preparations for this trial. He came over
to the November court with a new Prince
Albert coat and strutted around full of the
importance of a murder case on his hands. The
indictment was submitted to the grand jury
and he dropped into my office. He had pre
pared his address to the jury with great care.
I went into my back room at his request and he
recited it to me. He had quotations from the
Bible, Shakespeare, Byron, Burns and other
poets. It was very affecting. I could hardly
restrain my tears. When he got through and
I had complimented him on his masterly effort,
Tom Wingate, the court crier, came along.
John asked him if the grand jury had returned
a bill in his case. Tom said they had ignored
the bill, and thus a great effort was wasted and
a speech of great brilHance was never dehvered.
John was much disgusted and left town that
night with his speech and his new Prince Albert
coat, both investments unproductive.

DISTRICT ATTORNEY 221
In the following January I was sworn in as
district attorney, and while the principal cases
for the commonwealth were tried by the older
attorneys, I occasionally tried cases. There
was a case against a married man who had posed
as single before an ignorant and innocent girl.
The evidence for the commonwealth was the
unsupported testimony of the girl. Charles
Copestick, a hard-headed Scotchman, was on
the jury. I saw that he was against me. I
knew that unless he was with me I could not
win. My only witnesses were the girl and her
baby. When I came to address the jury I
quoted Robert Burns: "I've traveled much
this weary world around and sage experience
bids me this declare: If Heaven a boon to
mortal man has given in all this melancholy
vale, 'tis when a youthful loving pair in each
other's arms pour out the tender tale beneath
the milk-white thorn that scents the evening
gale." Copestick, like aU Scotchmen, loved
Burns. The defendant was convicted.
I began to forge ahead and was growing.
J. B. Niles employed me to help him try a case
for Sergeant Grosjean against the tannery
company. It was a bill to restrain the tannery

222 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
company from emptying the liquor from their
vats into the stream which ran through Gros-
jean's farm. The emptyings from the tannery
polluted the water and made it unfit for his
cattle to drink. In their answer to the bill the
tannery company set up that they had tried
to purchase Grosjean's farm and had offered
him thirty-five hundred dollars for it. We
denied this in our replication. When the case
began before the master, John I. Mitchell, M. F.
Elliott, attorney for the company, said he now
made a tender of the thirty-five hundred dollars
for the farm. I said that I did not see any
tender. He sent the secretary of the company
over to the bank and got thirty-five hundred
dollars in greenbacks and formally made the
tender. I took it, saying we would deliver the
deed the next day. Niles and Grosjean were
excited and asked what I meant, I said, "You
have sold your farm for twice its value. It was
only worth about fifteen hundred dollars."
The tannery people were astonished, but we
retained the money and delivered the deed and
the case was ended. Later Grosjean bought a
larger and better farm, well stocked, was out
of debt and prosperous. Things were coming

DISTRICT ATTORNEY 223
my way, I had learned that tact and manage
ment were more potent in the law practice than
great knowledge of the law.
In 1876 I went to Pittsburgh as a United
States juryman and while there heard Robert
Gibson defend two young men on trial for
passing counterfeit money, I was much im
pressed with his conduct of the case, I came
home determined to move to Pittsburgh. I
resigned my office as district attorney and
moved to Pittsburgh. I entered the office of
B. C. Christy, at No. 70 Grant Street; was
admitted to the Pittsburgh bar and began a long
wait for clients. Soon Christy moved to other
offices. During my first year there I had only
one client and he was an accident. He was
drunk and stumbled into my office looking for
a lawyer. I got fifty dollars from him, which
insured his return after he got sober. I managed
his case, which had merit, satisfactorily and
was paid fitfty dollars more.
In May, 1877, my wife died, leaving me two
children, Harriet and Stephen. Her death was
a great blow to me. She was a splendid woman.
Devoted to her family, domestic, sympathetic
and affectionate. I appreciated her more after

224 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
her death than I did while she lived. I was
homesick and disheartened. I would gladly
have gone back to Wellsboro if I had had any
excuse for doing so, but I had none except
failure to get business.
I was passing the Monongahela House and
saw two men fighting. A crowd was gathering
and I joined it. One knocked the other down
and began to kick him. As was the custom in
Wellsboro, I interfered. The man got up and
seeing the promise of fair play in me renewed
the fight. I was trying to stop it. They were
not evenly matched. The big fellow said:
"What have you got to do with this fight?
Get out of the way or I will hit you. " The other
fellow objected to my presence also. "Who are
you?" said he. An inspiration came to me.
I resembled John L, Sullivan, then the champion,
I knew that he was passing through Pittsburgh
to fight some one in the West. I said, "My
name is Sullivan." "What, John L. Sullivan?"
said one. "Yes," I answered. After that
nobody wanted to fight in that ward. The
crowd cheered me. I was rushed into the hotel
bar and drinks were ordered. I excused myself
for a moment and when out of the room, bolted.

DISTRICT ATTORNEY 225
I got down an alley and around to my office,
determined not to interfere with any more
fights. W. W. Ketcham was United States district
judge. In 1872 he was a candidate for governor.
I was with the delegation from Tioga County
at the state convention. We supported
Ketcham and I was one of the numerous dele
gates who called on him and urged him to run
as an independent candidate after Hartranft's
nomination. He declined and supported the
ticket and was afterwards appointed United
States district judge. I met him, but he did
not recall me. One day in 1878 he stopped me
on the sidewalk and asked me if I was not one
of those wild men from the northern tier who
wanted him to run as an independent candidate
for governor. He asked me how I was getting
along. I told him I was in watchful waiting.
Soon after that he appointed me assignee in
bankruptcy of an estate and later appointed me
master in several important equity cases in the
bankrupt estate of WilHam M. Lloyd of Altoona.
Here began the nucleus of my practice. I made
a number of clients out of creditors and others
interested in these estates, and in the third year
IS

226 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
of my practice I got about twenty-five hundred
doUars in fees. This was more than I ever
could have made in Wellsboro in any year and
I felt encouraged. James W. Houston was
chief clerk of the wholesale grocery company
of John S. Dil worth and Company. I made his
acquaintance and by his influence I was
employed for the First Reformed Presbyterian
Church in its long litigation against the Rev.
Nevin Wood side and his followers. This was
very helpful to me. I had, while in Tioga County,
joined the Masons, the Odd Fellows and a Post
of the Grand Army of the Republic. I united
with the same orders in Pittsburgh and was
regular in my attendance. They brought me
clients. I defended Charles WilHams, ex-sheriff
of Armstrong County, in a criminal suit in the
United States Court for pension frauds in the
spring of 1880.

H

CHAPTER XXXV
United States Attorney
H. McCORMICK was the United
States attorney. An altercation arose
between us on the trial of a case. I
told McCormick that I would be an applicant
for appointment of United States attorney when
his term expired in May. He laughed at me.
He had the backing of Senator Don Cameron,
C. L. Magee and Quay, and his reappoint
ment was regarded as certain, Rutherford B,
Hayes was Presidejit, I stormed the attorney-
general's office with petitions from the lawyers
of the western counties, with apparently no
result. I had met on several occasions Bishop
Simpson of the Methodist Church. The wife of
the President was a leading Methodist. I went
to see Bishop "Simpson. The result was that
he went to Washington and saw Mrs. Hayes.
I was appointed within a week after his visit.
Every one was surprised. Nothing was said
about Bishop Simpson's visit.
Objections to my confirmation were filed in
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228 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
the United States Senate. I did not know
Don Cameron. He wrote to me that if I would
appoint a friend of Magee's my assistant he
thought objections to my confirmation would
be removed. I wrote him that I could not do
that. The man he named had been very strong
against my appointment. I said there was a
man who had done much to help me get this
office, David Cameron of Tioga County; that
one of the anticipated pleasures of the office was
to appoint him my assistant. He had not asked
it and I had made him no promise, but if I
could not appoint my assistant they could take
the office. If I had anything to give, it was for
my friends, not my enemies. That I had always
understood this rule was observed by the
Camerons, but if he wished to violate it I would
not. I gave the matter up then, supposing that
my confirmation would be prevented by Came
ron, who was all powerful in the Senate. Great
was my surprise when a few days afterwards
I got a telegram from Senator Cameron saying,
"Your appointment was confirmed this morning.
I like your pluck. Come down and see me."
This was my first introduction to Senator
Cameron. Afterwards I got to know him well.

UNITED STATES ATTORNEY 229
Cameron was not a dealer of political cards.
At the head of the strongest political organiza
tion in this country, he was at all times indepen
dent of it, never subservient to it, true to his
friends. He courted no one, flattered no one.
He was honest, outspoken and square to all,
McCormick was not only surprised, but gave
very fooHsh interviews in the papers. He said
the President had appointed a fool to the office.
The reporters came to me to get what I had to
say. I said I would not say anything, and by
my silence demonstrate who was the fool.
I appointed Dave Cameron one of my assistants
and was fortunate in the retention of George C.
Wilson as the other. He was very capable and
has since won distinction at the bar.
In 1882 the Democratic State Convention
met in Pittsburgh. My old Wellsboro friends,
Walter Sherwood and A. C. Churchill, were
delegates from Tioga County. Just before the
convention met Walter Sherwood called upon
me and wanted me to take Churchill's place in
the convention, Churchill was sick at his hotel
and unable to attend, I objected strongly,
I was anxious to obHge Sherwood, but this was
going too far. I was and always had been a

230 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
Republican and then held the office of United
States attorney under a Republican President.
Sherwood was insistent. While he was a
Democrat and I a RepubHcan, we had always
worked together and helped each other when
we could do so without party disloyalty in Tioga
County. He said that Churchill and I were
both unknown in the convention. That we
were of about the same age and height. That
Churchill was hard up and needed an office.
That they were sure to elect a Democratic
governor that year, owing to dissensions in the
Republican party. That if Churchill got an
office it would help the Democratic organization
in Tioga County as he was the editor and
proprietor of the Wellsboro Gazette, the only
Democratic organ in the county. That it was
known that Churchill was a delegate. That
if he did not show up in the convention his
chances were gone. That all I had to do was
to go into the convention, answer to Churchill's
name and vote as he did. I was not anxious
to help the Democratic organization in Tioga
County and was not interested in Church iU,
but Walter had helped me in too many hard
contests in Tioga County to refuse him and I

UNITED STATES ATTORNEY 231
finally consented. He gave me Churchill's
credentials and I went into the convention with
Walter and answered "Present" when
Churchill's name was called. Walter's name
was called just before mine and I voted upon
all questions as he did. I was not so enthu
siastic as he was, but applauded when he did.
Some one came from the platform and whispered
to him and he turned to me with a scared look
and said, "Churchill has got to make a speech."
He had a reputation as a public speaker and he
was to be called upon for a speech. I refused,
but Walter urged me and said it would give the
whole thing away if I refused, but I said to him,
" What on earth will I say? " He told me to pitch
into Cameron and Quay, Republican leaders,
and say something good for Robert E. Pattison,
who was Walter's candidate for governor.
Just then Churchill's name was called. Walter
had just time to tell me that I must say some
thing against a protective tariff, I was sick of
the business, I told Walter that I would
slander Cameron and Quay for his sake, but
that I would not assail the tariff. That subject
to me was sacred, I got up and did the best
that I could. I smashed away at Cameron and

232 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
Quay and praised Pattison. There were cheers
and applause. Walter muttered, "Say some
thing about the stalwart Democrats of old Tioga
County." There was only one that I cared
anything about and that was Walter, so I spoke
of him: "My young friend by my side who
had stood like a rock against the Republican
hosts and who would go back with renewed
faith and courage if the convention nominated
Pattison." I sat down amidst applause and
Walter patted me on the back. Pattison was
nominated and after we got out of the conven
tion I expressed myself freely to Walter in a
somewhat different way than I did in the
convention. Pattison was elected and Churchill
got an appointment and the Democratic organi
zation of Tioga County was saved. Governor
Pattison wrote Churchill offering him the
appointment and said that he was very much
pleased with his speech in the convention.

CHAPTER XXXVI
Beaver's Campaign Against Stewart
I STUMPED the state in the fall campaign
in the contest between General Beaver and
John Stewart for governor in 1882. I was
with Beaver throughout the campaign. We
started in at Somerset, Stewart addressed a
large audience in the courthouse the night
before, I attended Stewart's meeting, I have
never heard an abler political speech. His
denunciation of boss ring rule was masterly
and convincing. The audience applauded him
heartily, I had hard work to keep from
applauding myself, although I was there to
speak the next night for Beaver, I told Beaver
that I was afraid that Stewart would get enough
Republican votes to elect Pattison, the Demo
cratic candidate, but Beaver was not worried,
I gave him a pretty good account of Stewart's
speech. He answered Stewart the next night,
I was not impressed with his speech. The
applause was not so hearty and spontaneous.
In fact, there was very little of it, Beaver was
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234 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
a good man and had a splendid record, but
Republican revolt was in the air. It was a cold
campaign resulting in the election of Pattison,
Stewart, of Irish ancestry, ran through the state
like John the Baptist with a flaming sword,
crying, "Prepare ye the way, prepare ye the
way, for the kingdom of the people is at hand!"
Cleveland's election in 1884 and Democratic
mistakes in state and nation brought the Republi
cans back in 1886, and Beaver was renominated
and elected, I made two speeches in that
campaign, for which I was removed from office
by President Cleveland in October, 1886. A
Democratic district attorney in Missouri was
removed from office at the same time for the
same offense, but he was reinstated. I did not
blame the President for my removal. Raised
in the Cameron school of politics, I believed that
the office belonged to some Democrat and I
have always regarded Cleveland as one of the
best Presidents that the country has ever had.
His stand for sound money against his party
raised him to the rank of a statesman. His
whole official course evidenced that his purpose
was first for the welfare of the country. After
General Beaver's election my name was men-

BEAVER'S CAMPAIGN 235
tioned in the papers as attorney-general. I
made no effort to get the appointment. Beaver
sent a mutual friend to see me. I was told that
the governor wanted to appoint a lawyer for
whose legal ability he had great respect, a man
that he could consult and who was a better
lawyer than he was. I told the emissary that
I had not applied for the appointment and did
not intend to, that I was glad that in selecting
his attorney-general he was applying a test that
would make nearly every lawyer in the state
eligible. I think it was in 1887 that I was a delegate
to the Republican State Convention, Judge
Williams of Tioga County was a candidate for
judge of the State Supreme Court. I was very
much interested in his candidacy and had visited
different people in his interest, I placed him
in nomination before the state convention, and
in doing so I made a great blunder in my speech.
I thought I was saying that he was never
accused of partiahty while on the bench, but I
used the word impartiality. There was much
laughter and a delegate from Philadelphia
yelled, "That's the man we want," He was
nominated by acclamation, not so much through

236 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
the blunder in my speech, but because the
bosses had agreed upon it before, though it
looked as if my assurance that he was never
impartial had done it. He was elected and
made a splendid judge.
I had married Elizabeth White, daughter
of Robert G. White, of Wellsboro, who for
many years was president judge of that
judicial district. To us were born six children,
three boys and three girls; two of the boys
died when seven and nine years old. When
the first boy, Robert, died I suffered all the
grief that a father can know in the loss of a son.
For several days after the funeral I did not go
to the office. My wife suffered as much or
more. He was past seven years old, a bright,
lovable child. For the first time in my Hfe I
thought seriously of the question of life after
death. I worked out an argument and append
it here, in the shape of a brief:

CHAPTER XXXVII
Life vs. Death — A Lawyer's Brief for the
Plaintiff
THERE is no question about which we
think so much, no question in which
we are so deeply interested as the
question, "Does death end aU?" I can
easily prove that death does not end all,
but that we live after what is caUed death,
if I am permitted to refer to the Bible as
authority. But I would be required to prove
that the Bible is the revealed word of God, and
this I cannot do, for I am unacquainted with
any evidence of this except the Bible itself. I
must then draw my conclusions from things
about us that we see and hear and know. We
know that man is an animal, that our bodies
are animal, that we possess all the appetites of
the other animals and that what they can do
by instinct we may learn to do. We know also
that man possesses what no other animal does,
viz., the ability to acquire a knowledge of , all
earthly things. Coming into the world helpless,
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238 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
ignorant, inferior to all other animals, he goes
out of the world superior to them all, and that
superiority is measured by the opportunities
which he has improved to acquire knowledge.
The young bird need not be taught to build its
nest, but builds its first one unaided, as well
as its last. The fox digs his first hole without
help. A bird cannot dig a hole, neither can a
fox build a nest, but man can do all things, but
he has first to learn how. He does nothing by
instinct. He has no instinct. Therefore, we
know that man is different from all other
animals and superior to all other animals in his
ability to acquire knowledge. He can see no
better than the fox. He can hear no better.
A meal when he is hungry gives no greater
satisfaction. His uneducated senses are no
better and give him no greater enjoyment.
He possesses no superiority to the other animals,
visible to the eye. We know that this superiority
exists, because we feel it ourselves and recognize
it in others. It is an unlimited power, almost
infinite and as yet has never been tethered nor
its boundaries defined. We caU it the mind,
the soul, the spirit of man. It does not exist
in any one organ, neither the brain, the heart.

LIFE vs. DEATH 239
nor any one part, yet these organs are essential
to its existence. It is not nourished by food.
The body hungers and thirsts, but the mind or
soul does not. The body suffers with cold and
heat, but it is the body alone that suffers. The
body is afflicted with disease, but not the mind
or soul. Sometimes communication between
the body and mind is cut off by disease, but the
soul is stiU imprisoned in the body. There is
in this life a clear and weU-defined distinction
between the soul and the body. Love and hate
are not of the body. The body with its appetites
satisfied and in health, is content, while the soul
or mind may be stricken with grief or groaning
in despair. We may weep with grief until the
eyes are red with weeping, but it is not the
smarting of the eyes that grieves us. It is the
loss of some loved one, or other sorrow. We
may suffer bodily pain until we weep, but we
do not grieve. As soon as the pain is reheved
we cease to weep. Hunger, cold, thirst, heat,
do not bring grief. These are bodily sufferings.
We know when we do wrong. Sin brings remorse.
We then say our conscience troubles us. This
is because we have violated a law of the soul,
but the body does not suffer for this. There

240 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
are two codes or sets of laws. One is the
physical or bodily code — ^the other is the spiritual
code. If I put my hand in the fire I break a
physical law. I feel the pain, it is in the hand,
but my mind or soul does not suffer. If we do
wrong we suffer. The suffering is not in the
hand or limb or head. We cannot locate it
anywhere, and yet we suffer. We have broken
a spiritual law; our conscience tells us that.
Now can this soul or mind exist without the
body? All that it enjoys here, all that it
suffers here is not of the body. Love and hate,
joy and sorrow, have no connection with the
body. Grief is foreign to it. Remorse of con
science is not of the body. I use the term soul
or mind or spirit, but by these terms I mean
the man, the body being but the house in which
he resides. If the body then does not con
tribute to joy or grief; if joy and grief come to
us while in the body, entirely distinct from it,
then the body is not essential to them. We
can exist without the body and experience
everything that we now experience in the body.
In other words, all of our appetites die when the
body dies, all that the body enjoys is simply
the satisfaction of its appetites. Without

LIFE vs. DEATH 241
hunger we do not enjoy food, but it is the body
that gets hungry, not the soul. Without cold
we do not want heat, but it is the body that
gets cold. When the body dies then all of our
desires for things of this world die with it, so
that when we leave the body we have no further
use for it, and there will be no resurrection
of it. But our love does not die, our hate
does not die, our memory does not die. These
we retain and do not require the body to sustain
them. I do not claim that I have yet estab
lished that we do exist after the dissolution of
the body, but simply that we can so exist; that
joy and sorrow, love and hate, fear and con
fidence, grief and despair are not of the body.
Neither does the body affect or influence any of
these except at our command, and that no
element or organ or office of the body produces,
affects or influences any of these; and therefore
the body is not and caimot be essential to the
reahzation of them. All of our conceptions,
all of our thoughts of our condition after the
dissolution of the body are of joy or sorrow.
We wiU either be happy or unhappy after we
leave the body. No one hopes or expects to be
happy by the gratification of any bodily appe-
IS

242 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
tite, and to reach the happiness which we hope
to obtain, and to experience the sorrow which
we fear we will meet, we do not require the body
or the performance of any office which it now
performs. If then we may regard it as estab-
Hshed that existence may continue without the
body and that we may realize all that we now
realize in the body, let us pass to the considera
tion of the question. Do we exist after the body
dies? We cannot see man outside the body.
We cannot see the soul with mortal eyes. We,
therefore, do not know that man survives his
body. We have seen how the body is not
essential to the existence of the soul or the man.
That all that we expect to enjoy after we are
done with the body, all that we hope to enjoy
does not depend upon or require the body. It
is said that we cannot realize the existence of a
soul or a man without form or shape or size,
but can we see grief or love or hate except by
its manifestations in the body? If you look
through an opera glass you see nothing, but
turn the screw until the lens is brought to the
right distance from the eye and you see the
object. Who knows but that, when freed from
the body we shall see and know each other well?

LIFE vs. DEATH 243
While in the body our vision is not adjusted to
see spiritual things. We can see only physical
things, objects that are amenable to the same
laws that govern our bodies. Now the spirit,
the soul, the man, is not subject to the laws of
gravitation or of heat or cold. We know that
the mind or spirit or soul exists and that it is not
influenced by any physical law, but by the law
of good and evil. Good deeds make us happy,
evil deeds make us unhappy. The violation of
every physical law brings its penalty and every
evil act brings the penalty of remorse. It is a
sense of having done wrong. It brings grief,
sorrow and shame. We know by our conscience
that there are spiritual laws. The soul, spirit
or man is not his thoughts or his reasoning or
logic. It often runs contrary to our judgment
and logic. It often enables us to control our
thoughts and circumvents them, I have often,
when unable to sleep, gotten up and put a hard
lozenge in my mouth, I knew that I must keep
awake until it dissolved else I might swallow
it and be choked, and in trying to keep awake
I have gone to sleep. We know by observation
and experience that there are physical laws.
We will all concede that the spiritual laws were

244 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
made by the same Creator who made the
physical laws. They are of equal antiquity and
equally certain. If then we study and under
stand the physical laws of the Creator we can
get some idea of the plan concerning the spiritual
laws. We look about us and see the world full
of life, but no death. We speak of death, but
there is none. Dissolution is the proper word.
We say a tree or plant or flower is dead, but
it is not so. The elements that compose the
tree or plant have been released. That is all,
and they have returned to their own class.
The chemist will tell you that certain substances
make up the plant, and he will separate it and
collect and weigh each particle, and the sum of
the parts will equal the plant when alive, and
so with a man. He will separate the body and
collect and weigh it, and the sum of the parts
will equal the body. All is accounted for.
Nothing is lost, nothing is destroyed. It is
said flre destroys the wood, but it does not.
It has simply released the gases and elements
that compose the wood. We may cremate a
human body. We have simply done by fire
what nature will itself do in time — ^released the
elements that compose it. We can dissect

LIFE vs. DEATH 245
a body, we will find what composes the blood,
the bones, the heart, the brains, the skin, the
hair, the nerves, but we do not find any trace
of the soul, the spirit, the man. The mind, the
spirit, the soul, the man, is either dead, dead in
earnest, annihilated completely, or it lives on.
If it dies it is the only thing about the man
that does die. It is the only thing that dies.
We know that it exists in man. We feel it,
see it, hear it, we know that it exists. Dissolu
tion comes. We carefully examine and find
everything but the soul, we find that every
ingredient that entered into the composition of
the man lives on in its natural state; not one
particle dies. We find them all there. Can
it be said that the soul, the most important
thing in the man, dies when all the other things
live? Can it be said that the soul which carries
the key to the future dies when everything else
lives? The soul which alone retains memory,
love, hate, fear and remorse and can exist and
keep all of these without the body does not die.
No, it lives on. The man lives on. He is
released from the body, that is all, and takes with
him his joy, his sorrow, his love, his hate, his grief,
his memory and his remorse for his evil deeds.

246 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
For the violation of physical laws there is no
respite, no reprieve, and while I do not see how
there can be for the violation of spiritual laws
without an atonement, I do not desire to enter
upon the discussion of this subject. My
purpose is simply to advance what seems to me,
argument, that we live after what is called death
without calHng upon the Bible for any aid or
relying upon any promise but what is known by
aU to be true, substantially as stated. There
is a wide difference between belief and knowl
edge and we must not confound them. We may
believe what may take place after the dissolution
of the body; we know only what we have seen
and measured. Yet we often believe a theory,
supported by our reason, as completely as if
it were supported by positive testimony. A
jury struggHng in the dark, in doubt and
uncertainty, finally begin to think they beheve.
Their beliefs grow stronger until it ripens into a
conviction, and, under their oaths, they render
a verdict for life or death. They do not know.
The evidence is conflicting. They did not see
the crime committed and yet they become
convinced. Very few of our beliefs or con
clusions are supported by positive evidence.

LIFE vs. DEATH 247
It is a common saying that no one should be
condemned on circumstantial evidence, and yet
circumstantial evidence is generaUy more satis
factory and conclusive than positive evidence.
A confession is termed positive or direct evi
dence, and yet there are not a few cases where
persons charged with crime have confessed their
guilt and been punished, and afterwards their
innocence has been fully estabHshed. Suppose
a friend should cease to breathe and lay for a
time apparently dead and you would believe
him to be dead, but finaUy he revives and tells
of things spiritual that he saw and heard. You
would not believe him. You would think he
dreamed it. It is impossible to obtain direct or
positive evidence of hfe after the dissolution of
the body, but we should give to circumstantial
evidence supporting this theory the same weight
and credit that we would give to circumstantial
evidence supporting any other theory or proposi
tion. Circumstances only should be considered
which support the theory, and they should be
such as exclude aU other theories. Then if we
are able to forge about our theory a chain of
circumstances that point directly to its truth
and exclude any and all other explanations, we

248 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
may fairly say our theory is proven, and proven
as absolutely as it is possible to prove anything
by evidence. The conscience is evidence of Hfe
after dissolution. Man is the only animal that
has a conscience. We can teach a dog to fear
the consequence of disobedience, but it is our
punishment that he fears. It is the fear of
punishment hereafter, the fear of something
that we must face hereafter, that gives us pain
of conscience, and it is the conscience that
restrains us, for a very smaU percentage of us
know the law, but it is the fear of something in
the life to come that makes most good people
good. Take away the conscience and anarchy
would reign. The laws could not preserve the
peace. Now why is the conscience given alone
to man — unless man Uves after the dissolution
of the body? Certainly it cannot be said that
the conscience was implanted in our breasts
simply as a poHce regulation for the general
good while in the body! The conscience is given
to warn us of evil and guide us to happiness in
the Hfe to come. If we obey the whisperings
of conscience we cannot go far wrong. A
conscience may become so seared and caUous
with repeated violations as to give forth no

LIFE vs. DEATH 249
warning, but if we do not abuse it, it will warn
us of danger and, like the rattle on the snake,
was put there for that purpose. No one ever
doubts his conscience. He may doubt his
judgment, but never his conscience. The fact
that we have a conscience is a strong circum
stance that we are not annihilated by the dis
solution of the body, but that we Hve on, else
I can see no use or purpose in having a conscience
at all; and it being conceded by all that so far
it has not been discovered that anything is
created in vain, and being unable to see any use
or purpose of the conscience except that we
Hve on after the dissolution of the body, I am
compeUed to recognize the conscience as strong
evidence that dissolution of the body does not
end aU. We frequently hear the expression
that man is a strange animal. It is only what
we call his soul that is strange. In his physical
organization there is nothing any more strange
about a man than in that of other animals. We
get some idea of the Creator by a study of his
plans. We know that the ear was intended to
hear with, and the eye to see with. We know
also that it was intended that man should be
nourished by food. We know that his teeth

250 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
were intended to eat with and his feet to walk
with. We read the plans of the Creator in this
respect very plainly. We see birds building
nests and we know that it was the plan of the
Creator that birds should Hve in nests, and we
see that after thousands of years they still live
in nests. We know also that it was the plan
of the Creator that foxes should live in holes
in the ground. Now we look upon the creation
of the world and see no change or deviation in
the plans of the Creator. We see also that each
plan has a purpose. We cannot find a plan
without a purpose. When we recognize a habit
or custom that is universal with the animals
of that family we know that the Creator intended
it to be so and that he had a purpose in it. We
know that beavers build dams across streams, and
we, therefore, know that the Creator intended
that beavers should build dams across streams,
and for a purpose, for they must have deep water
and they cannot get that in forest streams with
out damming them. Now we know that a great
many different nations and tribes have been
found in the world, and that there has never
yet been found a nation or tribe that did not
worship some being or thing as infinite, and

LIFE vs. DEATH 251
whatever their forms of worship have been, they
believed in existence after the dissolution of the
body. Now, when we find that worship is
universal with the human race we know that
it was intended that man should worship, and
when we find that the creeds of all religious
worship declare that man shall live after the
dissolution of the body, we are forced to con
clude that it was the plan of the Creator to
place in the human breast a belief in life after
the dissolution of the body; and as every plan
of the Creator has a purpose and as belief in a
future life can be fulfilled only after the dissolu
tion of the body, we are forced to conclude
that man must live after the dissolution of the
body. If there is no life after dissolution why
would we fimd every nation and tribe of the
earth worshipping some thing or being as a God?
And why would we find the creed of every
worship teaching Hfe after dissolution? I know
that individuals have taught differently, but
they have never succeeded in establishing their
doctrines or creeds in the nation or tribe where
they taught. This proposition is not met by
the allegation that the desire to Hve after dis
solution is natural and that the wish is father

252 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
to the thought. For why should we desire to
hve after dissolution if that desire is not created
in us, and why is it created in us if it is not to
be reahzed? Can we beheve that it is placed
in us for a delusion and a snare? If this desire
to hve after dissolution were not confined to
man, if other animals worshipped something
to which they recognized an accountability
after dissolution, then my argument would
fail; but they do not. Man is the only
animal that ever had a God or a behef in
future life.
There is other evidence that appeals strongly
to an argument for immortality.
Man is an animal, and he differs only from
the other animals in his power to acquire
knowledge, in his possession of a conscience and
in sexual love. No animal, bird or fish has
sexual love. The doe that sends out her sex
cry at night is calHng no particular buck, nor
does the answer carry a desire to meet any
particular doe, and when they part it is totally
immaterial to both whether they ever meet
again or not. But the doe has maternal love
for her young fawn just the same as a mother
has for her child. It is the same in all animals.

LIFE vs. DEATH 253
But man alone has sex love. It is stronger
than paternal love, stronger than friendship.
The love between a man and a woman is the
strongest emotion that exists and a man or a
woman who has gone through life without
experiencing it has not Hved. Animals have
memory, fear, hate and friendship, comrade
ship and companionship. But they have no
love. Now, naturally, when we see this we
wonder why man alone has it, why should a
man and a woman loving each other devotedly
find the greatest fear of death in the death of
their love? I know that we are taught to love
God, but when I find a man pretending to love
God more than his wife I am suspicious of him.
The love of God is not a natural love; it is an
acquired love, a cultivated love, but the sex
love is not acquired. It needs no cultivation.
A young man's first case of love affects him
worse and causes more pain and suffering than
any subsequent attack. It comes unheralded,
unannounced, and often one is inoculated at
the first exposure. You can take it again after
having had it — old age is no escape — and if
you once have it you never get over it entirely,
and the only real cure is to fall in love with

254 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
i
someone else. It is natural. It is grand. All
humans have it. It is stronger than life. It is
stronger than death. It is in the last thought
on the death -bed. It goes forth to plead and
intercede for the criminal. It is simply impos
sible to diagnose it or define it. We all know
it is. Any one who denies its existence has
never had an opportunity to taste it and is
probably abnormal, mentally or physically. God
gives it to all of his children. Now, if we die,
why have we got this great gift? Is anyone
weak and foolish enough to believe that this
power or faculty is given us by God so that we
can love him more than any one else? If so,
there is a great defect in the plan, for no one
ever loved God as much as he loved some
woman, and God or the It, or whatever the
creator is could never be so selfish. It is placed
in us so that men and women who love each
other may go on loving through aU eternity.
What an inducement, what a hope, what a
glorious dream to believe that the woman or
man we love as H^loise loved Abelard we will
go on loving forever. In fact, this love or
behef has done more to reconcile me to eternity
than anything else. How could I desire to Hve

LIFE vs. DEATH 255
forever except in the company of one whom I
love and whose presence is a continuous joy
to me? I would get tired of harps, golden
streets and jasper walls. No. Sex love is a
reason for immortality. We find it a good
thing here, but in the hereafter we wUl have
more use for it than we do here. If it were
just for temporary use here it would not be
worth while and we would under all conditions
perhaps be better off without it.
It may be said there has been much worship
of false gods among the children of men and
the question may be asked. Why was not the
true worship given them? Into that field I do
not desire to trespass. I do not undertake in
this paper to criticise the Creator nor to state
who and what the Creator is, but to prove
without the aid of any religion, creed or Bible,
that death does not end all and that we live
on after the dissolution of the body. If we
once believe that fully and sincerely, then our
desire and effort will be so to live that when
dissolution comes our lives while in the body
will be acceptable to our Creator.
I suffered greatly when my second son died,
but I was then a man of sorrow and acquainted

256 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
with grief. Three girls, Jean, married to W. J.
Crumpton, and Margaret, Isabel, and John
are living, the last three single. My oldest
daughter, Harriet, is married to Dr. D. P.
Hickling of Washington, D. C; my oldest son,
Stephen, married Ida McCandless, daughter of
Dr. J. Guy McCandless. They are all living.
I was giving strict attention to the law practice
and in connection with William H. Graham
made considerable money in the organization
of street railways in Allegheny City, where I
then lived. We were pioneers in the use of
electricity as a motive power in that vicinity.

CHAPTER XXXVIII
Candidate for Congress
IN 1890, Thomas M. Bayne, Congressman for
the Allegheny district for fourteen years,
was a candidate for re-election. His oppo
nent was George Shiras, III. There was a
spirited contest. I supported Bayne, and a
majority of the delegates were elected for him.
At the convention he was nominated, but he
declined the nomination and asked his delegates
to nominate me. I knew nothing about it
until the day before the convention, when I
consented with much reluctance to accept if
nominated. I was nominated and it created
much surprise and much opposition. It was
charged that I was not the choice of the district.
The delegates had not been elected to nominate
me. The newspapers all denounced it and a
storm of protest arose from all sides. There was
much merit in the opposition to my nomination,
as I had not been a candidate before the people.
Against the advice of some of my friends I
wrote to the chairman of the county committee
17 ^2S7)

258 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
that if he would call a new convention, fixing
the primaries in September, three months later,
I would decline the nomination, become a can
didate and abide by the result. This was done,
and the poHtical atmosphere was cleared. There
was a spirited contest between George Shiras, III,
and me. He was popular, "to the manor
born," while I was called a carpet-bagger. The
organization was against me, but I had warm,
capable friends, and a majority of the delegates
were elected in my favor. The seats of a number
of my delegates were contested. My strength
was in the boroughs and townships. These
delegates would not stay for days, until the
contests were settled, and once adjourned, it
would be almost impossible to reassemble them.
My majority was not so large, and I saw the
danger of a delegate contest. There was some
technical error in the notices of contests. Andy
Armstrong was named by the county committee
to call the convention to order. He would act
as temporary chairman until a permanent chair
man was elected. Armstrong was a friend of
mine. I selected Charles W. Gerwig as my
floor manager and we met at my rooms the
night before the convention and mapped out

CANDIDATE FOR CONGRESS 259
our course. My delegates had their credentials,
and when the contests were announced Gerwig
was to raise a point of order that the notices of
contests were defective and that they should
not be received. Armstrong was to sustain the
point of order, when, there being no contests
before the convention, Gerwig was to move
Armstrong's election as permanent chairman
and after his election place me in nomination.
We drilled on it until each man knew his work.
Our enemies did not get knowledge of our plan
until the convention was called to order. Then
earnest protests were made to Armstrong.
I feared he would weaken and I kept near him.
But he stood up. When James S. Young, a
Shiras delegate, announced the contests, Gerwig
raised the point of order. Armstrong looked
earnestly at me. I gave him a sharp nod to rule
and he did, without comment. Then Gerwig
moved his election as permanent chairman and
he was elected with much applause. James S.
Young then got up and said that Mr. Shiras
could not get justice there, that a neighboring
hall had been secured and that the Shiras
delegates would now retire and meet in the other
hall. We had anticipated this, but could see

260 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
no way to prevent it, as delegates had the
right to leave the convention. But John
Murphy, chief of police, a great big popular
fellow, whom every one knew and liked, saw a
way to prevent it. He put his big, broad back
against the door, the only means of egress, and
said, "Sit down. If you fellows bolt, you have
got to bolt in here. You don't get out." There
had been many bolts in conventions before, but
none was ever so effectually squelched. The
situation was ridiculous. The protests of Shiras
delegates were drowned in applause, amidst
which I was placed in nomination and nomi-
inated; a majority of all the delegates voting
for me in answer to their names. Then I
thanked the convention and we adjourned, while
the Shiras delegates sat sullen in their seats and
Murphy still stood with his back against the
closed doors. After this there was no more
talk of a bolt and I was elected by the usual
majority. I took my seat when Congress met on the
first Monday of December, 1891. The house
was Democratic. Charles Crisp from Georgia
was elected speaker. He was an able man and a
good man. He placed me on the River and

CANDIDATE FOR CONGRESS 261
Harbor Committee the first term. The second
term I was on the Judiciary General Committee.
Crisp was good to me and recognized me fre
quently for motions and immaterial matters.
Thomas B. Reed, ex-speaker, was our minority
leader. William Springer was the chairman of
the Ways and Means Committee, He was
the recognized leader of the Democratic side,
Charles Culbertson, from Texas, was a more
able man, but Springer, having been in the
house for twenty years, had the prestige.
Others supposed that he knew, and he had no
doubt about it. He also was next the speaker
in the Committee on Rules. He offered a rule
one morning for the consideration of a bill to
which Reed raised a point of order. Crisp was
afraid of Reed's knowledge of parliamentary law.
After debate between Springer and Reed, Crisp
sustained Reed's point of order. Springer
jumped up and said, "Mr. Speaker, notwith
standing your ruling, I believe that I am
right, and I would rather be right than be
President." Reed replied, "Springer, you will
never be either." I was about as green and
ignorant as any, but I was observant and
watchful. In the Fifty-first Congress, when

262 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
Reed enforced his "counting quorum rule," the
Republican majority was small. Sickness and
other causes made it hard to keep a quorum.
Several colored Republicans from Southern states
were contesting Democrat's seats. It became
necessary to seat some of these contestants to
maintain a Republican quorum, so the com
mittee brought in a rule for the consideration and
disposal of some of these cases. Thirty minutes
debate was allowed each side, when a vote
was to be taken. The rule was adopted and
the debate begun, then the vote was taken and
the colored Republican seated. The Democrats
were furious. They retired to the cloak room
and denounced Reed as a "Czar" to each other.
While they were there another election case
was called up and another colored Republican
seated. The Democrats rushed back to their
seats and began to caU "Mr. Speaker, Mr.
Speaker." Reed sat quiet in the speaker's
chair until the tumult had somewhat subsided.
Then he said, "Gentlemen, you remind me of
an old farmer up in Maine. He used to come to
market town every Saturday afternoon and
always drive home drunk. One time he was so
drunk that he fell out of the buggy and the

CANDIDATE FOR CONGRESS 263
wheels ran over him. He yelled, 'Whoa!' so
loud that the old mare backed up and ran over
him again. What is the pleasure of the house?"
Crisp was re-elected speaker in the Fifty-
third Congress and W. L. Wilson became chair
man of the Ways and Means Committee.
W. J. Bryan was a member. In this Congress
Reed forced the Democrats to adopt his rule to
count a quorum. It was modified only in this,
that instead of the speaker counting the quorum
he appointed a member from each side of the
house to count the members present, and on
their report to the speaker he declared that a
quorum was present if there was one. For
two weeks Reed blocked all legislation in the
house and demonstrated absolutely the absurdity
of the Democratic claim that quorum counting
was unnecessary. Our side of the house did
not answer when our names were caUed and as
the answers of the Democrats did not show a
quorum, nothing could be done but call the roll
again. The Democratic majority was small and
they could not secure an attendance of a
majority of the house.
Charles Culbertson from Texas was chairman
of the Judiciary Committee of which I was a

264 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
member. Governor Sayre of Texas was chair
man of the Appropriation Committee. They
were both very able men. I got an appro
priation through this Congress for a post-office
in Allegheny City through the help of Sayre.
It was in the short session. During the pre
vious summer an old house in Pittsburgh had
been torn down and while clearing out the
cellar and excavating deeper, a barrel of old
Monongahela whiskey was found that had
probably been there for many years. It was
bottled and the contractor gave me a quart
of it. I sent it to Sayre. He always said that
the whiskey saved the Allegheny post-office.
It was very fine whiskey.
The principal work of this Congress was the
passage of the Wilson tariff bill. It was prac-
ticaUy a free trade bill when it left the house,
but the senate put over six hundred amendments
to it which changed its character entirely.
When it came back in the house each one of
the senate amendments was rejected and a
conference demanded. The Democratic sena
tors told the house leaders that they must
accept the amendments or pass no bill; that
if the bill got back to the senate it would not

CANDIDATE FOR CONGRESS 265
pass at all; and so with much disgust and
indignation the house withdrew its objection to
the amendments and passed the bill as amended,
when it went direct to the President without
further senate action. When the vote was
announced there was no applause on the other
side of the house, but W. J. Bryan and five or
six colleagues went down to Wilson and took
him upon their shoulders and carried him into
the cloak room amid the sullen silence of the
Democrats and the laughter and derision of the
Republicans, Reed said to a few sitting
around him, "An old negro chased an opossum
all through a rainy afternoon and finally got
him. He took him home and dressed and
stuffed and baked him and sat down to eat him,
but he was so fatigued and weak from his long
hunt that he fell asleep. Another colored man
came along and, looking through the window,
saw the old man asleep with the opossum in
front of him. He sHpped into the room, took
the opossum out and ate him. Then, putting
back the bones in front of the old man and
dropping some fat and stuffing on his breast
and sleeves, he slipped out again and awaited
the result. When the old man awoke he

266 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
stared at the opossum bones, saw the fat and
stuffing on his breast and arms, felt of his
empty stomach, 'Fo de Lord,' said he, 'dis
nigger must have eaten dat possum, but it is
de most onsatisfactory meal dis nigger ever
had,' "
There was a comfortable Republican majority
in the Fifty-fourth Congress and in the short
session preceding it I joined with Warren Hooker
and Jim Sherman of New York, Barthold of
Missouri, Loudenslager of New Jersey, Heming
way of Indiana and others in an attempt to
organize the next house. We selected Alex,
McDowell of Pennsylvania for clerk, a man
from New York as doorkeeper, a man from
Missouri as sergeant-at-arms, and an Ohio man
for postmaster. These four men had about two
hundred and fifteen appointments. The older
members had divided these appointments among
themselves up to this time and they were all
against our slate. Reed, Dingley, Cannon,
Henderson, Payne and nearly aU the older
men had a slate of their own. The contest
became quite sharp, but there was no opposition
to Reed for speaker. There were a good many
young men in the house. We were all much

CANDIDATE FOR CONGRESS 267
concerned about our committees, but we trusted
Reed to play fair and not to use his committees
to elect his slate. He was importuned to do so,
but refused. Through the influence of Quay,
Pennsylvania's thirty Republican members were
solid for our slate and applying the Cameron
rule of politics, in the proper placing of two
hundred and fifteen appointments, our slate
was nominated in the house caucus by a large
majority. There was much talk about "a hog
combine," but the leaders of the opposition got
a few appointments, and in order to get these
they had to be "good." I became the sole
member of the slate committee. I believe I
carried out every promise, and that my manage
ment was satisfactory.
Reed sent for me, as he did for others, to
consult about committee appointments. He
asked me what committee I wanted, I told
him that I wanted floor work and would prefer
to be on the Appropriation Committee. He
said, "You have given me great relief, I sup
posed that you wanted to be chairman of Ways
and Means," He said Harry Bingham had
been on Appropriations for years and it was
unusual to put two of the same party from the

268 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
same state on a committee and he must put
Bingham on. I called his attention to the size
of our state and its large Republican delegation.
Well, he said, he supposed he would have to
do it. He said he had trouble about the com
mittees. I asked him if he had settled on any
of them yet. He said, "Not finally, but if I
live I am going to put Sauerherring of Vermont
on Fish and Fisheries." He named over several
for Banking and Currency. I said, "Those
men will never agree upon a bill in the world."
He said, "That's why I am going to appoint
them." He thought he ought to appoint a
Democrat from a certain Southern state on the
Ways and Means Committee and asked me
which of two men he named was the abler man.
I named one of them. "That settles it," says
he, "the other feUow gets it. I don't want any
more trouble in that committee than is nec
essary." I recommended Hooker of New York
for chairman of Rivers and Harbors, and all
of the men who had been active in our slate
contest for the committees of their choice. He
subsequently appointed all of them as requested.
He put me next to Chairman Joseph C. Cannon
on Appropriations and I became, with Cannon

CANDIDATE FOR CONGRESS 269
and Sayre, the sundry civil sub-committee, the
principal sub-committee of the Appropriation
Committee. In this position I had plenty of
floor work and met in conference different
senators. I worked very hard and was growing
to be an active, useful man in Congress. I
found that tact and easy address were main
factors in accomplishing results. I had no
opposition for renomination to Congress and
was generally regarded as a fixture in Congress.
I was a strong supporter of Reed and had his
confidence. He called me the house whip. I
pushed an appropriation bill through for a
soldiers' home at Danville, Cannon's home town,
against his vote. I knew that he wanted it
passed, but was afraid to support any one of
the several towns in Illinois which wanted it.
I hked Cannon. He was able and honest. I
kept house on Q Street in Washington and had
prominent members of the senate and house
frequently to dinner. I thoroughly Hked Reed.
I had' a horse and two-seated wagon and on
Sundays in summer frequently drove Reed out
to the Falls of the Potomac, where we had a
picnic. UsuaUy Dalzell and Bob Cousins were
with us. Reed thought that he could make

270 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
better milk punch than any one else. We
aU agreed with him and each would bring a
luncheon and we would spread it on a horse
blanket under a tree and enjoy it, while Reed's
wonderful humor and the milk punch added
greatly to the entertainment,
Stephen A. English, the author of "Ben
Bolt," was a member of the house from New
Jersey. Everybody loved "Ben Bolt," but
EngHsh had grown old and crabbed and insisted
on making a speech on nearly every bill. He
was a Democrat. Obtaining recognition, he
would step down in front of the speaker and
talk until his time was exhausted. I had charge
of an appropriation bill in the house one day to
which there was much opposition. Controlling
the time aUotted, I had yielded to different
members on both sides until I had only eight
minutes left to close the debate. I arose to
speak when EngHsh asked for five minutes.
I would have been justified in refusing it, but
I said, "Mr. Speaker, I have only eight minutes
left in which to answer the numerous objections
to this bill. I cannot yield five minutes to the
gentlemen from New Jersey, but I yield five
minutes to the author of 'Ben Bolt.' " There

CANDIDATE FOR CONGRESS 271
was applause. English consumed the whole
eight minutes. When the vote was taken, to
my surprise the bill passed by a good majority.
Before the Fifty-fifth Congress was organized,
in the short session of the Fifty-fourth, Hopkins
of Illinois conceived the idea that he could
beat Reed for speaker. He had seen how
easily we had elected our slate of officers in the
Fifty-fourth Congress and he undertook to
follow the same plan. He was an able, ambi
tious man, but he was different from Reed.
He had red hair, while Reed had scarcely any.
He conferred with our organization and by
liberal offers of committee appointments got
the boys interested. I was in Pittsburgh attend
ing court. I got several telegrams from my
friends urging me to come to Washington.
When I got there they told me of Hopkins'
ambition. I sat down on it flat. I told them
that, no matter what they did, Pennsylvania's
thirty Republican votes would be solid for Reed.
That settled it. Hopkins abandoned his can
didacy for speaker. When the Fifty-fifth
Congress organized there was no opposition to
Reed and he was nominated and elected speaker.
I was anxious to pass an Immigration BiU

272 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
which I had introduced. It was before the
Immigration Committee. Reed was opposed
to my bill and to the further restriction of
immigration. He had appointed Barthold of
Missouri chairman of the Immigration Com
mittee. Barthold shared Reed's views on
immigration. This committee reported Bart-
hold's bill one morning. Under the rules an
amendment could be offered to the biU. Then
an amendment to the amendment and then a
substitute, after which no further offers could
be made. Barthold had arranged to have an
amendment offered, also an amendment to the
amendment and then a substitute. I was busy
and did not catch on. When the amendment,
and amendment to the amendment had been
offered and a member arose to offer a substitute
Reed said, "The gentlemen from Pennsylvania
has the floor." At the same time Bert Kennedy
came running down to my seat and said, "The
Speaker says hurry up and offer your bill as a
substitute. I grabbed it out of my desk and
got up. Reed recognized me and I offered it
as a substitute. The vote came first on the
substitute. I had my speech. If it had not
been for Reed I would have been shut out.

CANDIDATE FOR CONGRESS 273
Afterwards I said to Reed, "That was very nice
of you. I appreciate it." He said, "Yes, I
think you fared quite as well as if you had turned
in for that red-headed son of a gun from Illinois
for speaker." There had been no talk between
Reed and me about Hopkins' candidacy for
speaker. Reed was the best aU-round man in
Congress or in public life during his day.
The greatest conversationaHsts that I have ever
known were James G. Blaine, Benjamin Harris
Brewster and Senator Fry of Maine. I knew all
of the men in national pubHc Hfe of that period
personally. The political situation in Pennsylvania in
the beginning of 1896 was troublesome. John
Wanamaker, who had been postmaster general
under Harrison, was contesting Quay's leader
ship of the party. McKinley was a candidate
for President. Wanamaker, Magee and Fhnn
were supporting him. Quay was silent. I
reahzed that McKinley would be nominated. I
wanted to retain the leadership in Quay. He
was in Florida. I wrote out a paper to be
signed by the RepubHcan Congressmen of the
state asking Quay to be a candidate for President.
I thought that Quay could get the majority of
18

274 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
the delegates to the National Convention. The
paper set forth that the sentiment was strong
for Quay in their districts. I had made appoint
ments in the house for these congressmen. I
was stiU the sole member of the slate committee.
I obtained the signatures of all the Pennsylvania
RepubHcan members of the house but John
DalzeU, George Huff and the member from the
York district. I kept it quiet. When Quay
returned from Florida I called upon him and
advised him to be a candidate for President and
get control of the delegates to the National
Convention. That would put him in a situation
to control the patronage of our state under
McKinley. He approved the plan, but said he
could not be a candidate without some senti
ment in the state for him. I said, " Suppose the
congressmen from our state should sign a call
upon you to be a candidate?" He said, "They
would not do it." I said, "They have done it."
I showed him my paper. That night the
reporters of the associated press were sent for,
and the leading papers in the whole country
announced Quay's candidacy the next morning.
The caU signed by the congressmen was pub-
Hshed with an appropriate acceptance from

CANDIDATE FOR CONGRESS 275
Quay. A spirited contest arose for delegates
throughout the state between Quay and McKin
ley, I became a candidate for delegate to the
National Convention from my district. Magee
and Fhnn called the county committee together
and had them pass a resolution that the voters
could vote their choice for President and that
the candidates for national delegate must agree
to support the candidate for President whom
the majority vote favored. I refused to agree
to this and sent out a card to the voters that I
did not want them to vote instructions, that I
was a candidate and if elected I would vote for
Quay. I was elected and out of the four or
five thousand votes only three or four hundred
voted instructions. A very large majority of
the delegates elected were for Quay. This
brought about a meeting between Quay and
Mark Hanna by which, after a state com
plimentary vote for Quay, the delegates were
to go to McKinley. This programme was
carried out. The opposition to Quay was
unhorsed and Quay controlled the patronage
under McKinley.
Quay was the best politician of his day, but
McKinley was a better diplomat and showed

276 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
more of statesmenship in his politics. But the
two of them, with Tom Piatt who was a past-
master, made a great trio. McKinley was
elected, together with a Republican house and
senate. The country had had enough of
Democracy. The great trouble with the Demo
cratic party in Congress was that the brains
and leadership were in the Southern states.
In the South the office of congressman was the
most remunerative office. The salary was five
thousand dollars per year, with postage, allow
ance and mileage, while in the North judges
received ten and fifteen thousand dollars per
year. Naturally the ambition of Southern men
centered in Congress, while in the north Con
gress did not attract men reaching for large
incomes. The result was that the brainiest,
most capable men came from the Southern states,
and brains in Congress, as well as in all other
activities, win. But the Southern men did not
understand or appreciate the industrial and
commercial activity of the North. They were
environed by the conditions of the South.
They thought that the way to make the South
prosperous was to reduce the prosperity of the
North. They did not understand the true rule

CANDIDATE FOR CONGRESS 277
that the prosperity of the North insured the
prosperity of the South, and thus PopuUsm and
Bryanism controlled. They foolishly thought
that by legislation they could make one com
munity prosperous and another poor and so
they diverted their great abilities into foolish
and unproductive channels. They were quixotic
in their theories and fought windmills instead
of facts. They were impractical and the
Northern representatives with less abilities over
powered them because of their practical knowl
edge. A protective tariff that insured the home
market to home producers was the best thing
for the South, but they fought it because it
increased the price to consumers, ignoring the
fact that the price to consumers is subordinate
to the ability of the consumer to pay. The
prosperity of none of the states can be reduced
by ruinous competition with imported products
without reducing the prosperity of all of the
states; neither can any one of the states be
prosperous whUe all of the others are not. Our
interstate commerce is so interwoven that what
affects one state affects them all. -Legislation
for consumers at the expense of producers in
this country is a mistake. All producers are

278 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
consumers, while there are many consumers who
are not producers and earners. Any legislation
that reduces production and earnings affects
by far the largest number. When a man is
earning good wages he can afford to pay high
prices. When he is not earning good wages he
cannot afford to pay low prices. When a pro
ducer can sell his products at a fair profit he
can afford to pay good wages. Destroy his
profits and he must ceasie to produce, or reduce
wages. In either event his employees suffer
with him. Cripple any industry by ruinous
competition or interfering laws and you injure
all connected with it and benefit no one. Regu
lation of trade and commerce is right, but laws
that impose a penalty on success are bad.
During the campaign of 1896 I made a great
many speeches in Pennsylvania and other states
for McKinley. I was a fairly good stump
speaker. I had had much experience and could
handle a heckler very well. I was not always
happy in my replies to questions from the
audience, but the sympathy of the audience was
always with the speaker and they would applaud
any reply that the speaker made. But once I
hit upon a good retort.

CANDIDATE FOR CONGRESS 279
There was much distress under Cleveland's
administration, through 1893, 1894, 1895 and
1896, among laboring men. Many industries
were suspended and many mills were closed.
I was discussing the hard times under Demo
cratic government, at Sharon, Pa., at a large
meeting, when a man got up in the audience and
said, "There have been no strikes under Cleve
land's administration." "No," I said. "A
man has to get a job before he can strike.
Under Cleveland there have been no strikes
because there have been no jobs." I was
asked no further questions. The audience
evidenced their appreciation of my retort.
They applauded well.

CHAPTER XXXrX
Governor of Pennsylvania
IN 1897 I became ambitious to be Governor
of Pennsylvania. I could have remained
in Congress and perhaps it would have
been wiser to do so, but the office of governor
of my state appealed to me and I resigned from
Congress and became a candidate. My oppo
nents for the nomination were John Wana
maker of PhUadelphia and Charles W. Stone of
Warren, a member of Congress and former
secretary of state and Heutenant governor.
They were both strong men, both thoroughly
acquainted with the people of the state and both
popular. Ever since Wanamaker was post
master general in Harrison's cabinet, he had
been opposing Quay. I had no promise of
Quay's support. Wanamaker started a stump
ing tour over the state, holding his first meeting
at Towanda in Bradford County. I followed
him, speaking wherever he did. We both had
large audiences everywhere. This was the first
and only time that candidates for governor
(280)

GOVERNOR OF PENNSYLVANIA 281
stumped the state before the primary elections
for delegates were held. Our contest was quite
spirited. The daily newspapers in Philadelphia
and Pittsburgh had reporters with us and
published fuU accounts of our meetings and
speeches. NaturaUy the Quay men, who were
all opposed to Wanamaker, were for me.
Charles W. Stone did not hold any meetings.
When Wanamaker went to Towanda he got
the Black Diamond train on the Lehigh VaUey
Raihoad to stop there for him. It had never
stopped for any of the people of Towanda.
He had a valet with him, who was a curiosity
in Towanda. The people had heard of them,
but had never seen one before. I had Alex.
McDowell, clerk of the house at Washington,
with me. He was past middle life and had
gray hair and whiskers. He looked every inch
the bishop. He was a great humorist and story-
teUer. When I began to speak before a large
audience in Towanda, I said that Mr. Wana
maker was submitting his candidacy to the
people and I was doing the same, that I had
no promise of Quay's support, as charged, and
did not know whether he would support me
or not. I hoped that he would, that I was goingj

282 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
to foUow Wanamaker and speak wherever he
did; that I would try to observe the same
conditions that he did; that I had tried to get
the Lehigh Valley Raihoad officials to stop the
Black Diamond train for me, but failed; that
at my reques,t Quay had tried to get it stopped,
but had failed; that I apologized to the people
for coming there in an ordinary day-coach,
but that I had after much effort got a valet,
that he was on the stage with me, and pointed
to McDoweU. They knew who he was and there
was much applause. This broke the ice and
I was Hstened to very closely and I thought I
had made a good impression. While I was
speaking McDowell had time to think out what
he was going to say and when he followed me,
he soon had the audience roaring with laughter.
I had not previously said anything to him
about introducing him as my valet. He indig
nantly denied that he was my valet. He said
I was his, that I blackened his boots and shaved
him every morning. We left the audience in
*good feehng. We said nothing against Wana
maker, nor did we reply to his charges against
Quay and his raihoad support, except to say
that it seemed that he did not have as much

GOVERNOR OF PENNSYLVANIA 283
influence with the Lehigh Valley as Wanamaker. ]
We foUowed Wanamaker in the different toAvns
of the state where he spoke and things seemed
coming my way when I got word that there
was serious trouble in Allegheny County. I
had always had the delegates in my congressional
district and the McKeesport district. I was
not expecting or trying to elect any delegates
in the other districts of the county. Magee
was setting up delegates against me in my
district. I saw at once that I could not be
nominated if I had no delegates from my county.
I went to Pittsburgh and found that the report
was correct. I got a few of my friends together
and we went to see William Flinn and J. O.
Brown. We protested that it was not fair, that
I did not have the money to make the fight
that they did, and with a liberal use of it some
of my delegates might be defeated. Flinn said
he left the matter of state delegates to Magee.
I told him that if they insisted on this course
I would have to abandon my speaking tour with
Wanamaker and come back home and give my
whole time to secure the election of delegates.
Flinn said, "That was probably what Wana
maker and Magee wanted." Sam Grier, Frank

284 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
Torrance, John Murphy, Walter Lyon and
William H. Graham, friends of mine and aU
friends of Flinn's, were very warm in their pro-
est and finally Flinn said, "It did not seem
fair; that he would see Magee." There was a
meeting between my friends and Flinn and
Brown the next day. I was conceded the dele
gates in my congressional district. Of the three
in McKeesport district I got one and Magee
the other. Sam Grier threw up a cent, Torrance
called heads for me and Brown tails for Magee,
and tails won. I joined McDowell at the
meeting the next night. A majority of the
delegates elected in the state were for me.
That did not mean my nomination, as Quay
could have nominated either of us or an entirely
dark horse. I have ever been an optimist and
I expected to be nominated. There was no
conference, consultation or talk between Quay
and me after the election of delegates or between
our representatives. I did not see him. Numer
ous attempts were made to get Quay to nominate
some one else. One delegation said to him,
"Our man will do just as you tell him, the
same as Stone would." "Yes," said Quay,
"but I would have to tell him and I would not

GOVERNOR OF PENNSYLVANIA 285
have to tell Stone. He would know what to
do without telling." As the convention ap
proached. Quay told Boies Penrose that he
would not attend the convention if Bill Andrews
did. Andrews had been very active for me and
it was said by hostile papers that he was to be
my secretary of state and would control my
administration. Penrose and I had an inter
view with Andrews to persuade him not to
attend the convention. Penrose stated to him
what Quay said. Andrews was indignant.
Penrose said, "If you attend the convention
Stone's nomination wiU be credited to you and
it will be hard to elect him. You must sacrifice
your greatness for the good of the party."
Andrews was not popular. Penrose usfed very
persuasive arguments and finally Andrews con
sented to stay away. The convention assem
bled; Quay was present. His attitude through
out was of one who desired the nomination of
the strongest man to lead the ticket. Various
compromise candidates sprung up. Quay con
ferred with them and their representatives. I
did not see him at the convention. He was
apparently considering for the good of the
party. He knew that the convention would

286 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
nominate me if he did not interfere. My cam
paign in the state against Wanamaker had made
me many friends. The convention organized.
I had selected Tom Marshall of Pittsburgh to
nominate me, but ill health prevented his
attendance and he sent his son, Tom Marshall,
Jr., who presented my name to the convention
in a masterly speech. I was nominated amid
great applause and became the party candidate
for governor. The Prohibitionists nominated
Dr. Swallow of Harrisburg, and the Democrats
nominated George A. Jenks of Jefferson County.
The campaign was very sharp and exciting.
Swallow and Jenks were both able men and
good stumpers. All through September and
October meetings were held. The fear was that
Swallow would get enough Republican votes to
elect Jenks. I had with me a good troupe of
speUbinders, Alex. McDowell, W. I. Schaffer of
Chester, John P. Elkin, the chairman of the
Republican State Committee; Tom Stewart,
the adjutant general; Boies Penrose and other
good speakers. We went from county to
county and held meetings in the principal
towns. Every few days startling head-lines
would appear in the newspapers that caUed for

GOVERNOR OF PENNSYLVANIA 287
special attention. There was a strong organiza
tion in the state known as the A. P. A.'s. Their
principal purpose was hostility to the Catholic
Church. A lodge in Allegheny County, with
the intention of helping me, elected me a mem
ber and gav-e public notice that I would be
initiated on a certain night, notifying neighbor
ing lodges to attend. I had not been consulted.
They were very strong throughout the state and
supposed as a matter of course that I would
join. I was up against it. If I declined there
was danger of losing the A. P. A. vote and if
I joined I would lose the Catholic vote. I did
not consult any one. I knew what to do. I
wrote to the lodge saying that to join any organ
ization while I was a candidate would mean
only that I was doing it to get votes, that I
would not join any secret society for that
purpose. My letter was published in aU the
papers. Secret society support has never been
as potent as opposition to it. This was demon
strated when Joseph Ritner was elected Governor
of Pennsylvania as an antimasonic candidate.
The previous legislature had passed a bill
appropriating $500,000 for the construction of a
capitol building. Some walls had been built.

288 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
There was scandal about it. Swallow wrote me
a pubhc letter asking me to discuss it in pubhc
with him and repeated the scandal. I wrote a
letter to the district attorney' at Harrisburg,
enclosing SwaUow's letter and asking him to sub
poena Swallow before the next grand jury to
testify to what he knew about the capitol
scandal, to the end that the guilty men might
be indicted and punished; that I knew nothing
about it, but that evidently Swallow did; and
that he no doubt would perform his duty as a
good citizen and help bring the guilty parties to
punishment. This letter with Swallow's was
given publicity through the newspapers, but
I heard no more about it. It kept me busy to
pilot through all the charges and plans of smart
scheming men, without putting my foot in it.
There was an organization in the state, nick
named the Hairless Goats. I knew nothing
about it. Their creed charged that Lincoln
was assassinated by a plot of the Catholic
Church, that Mrs. Surratt and J. Wilkes Booth
were CathoHcs and that they were mere instru
ments of the church in Lincoln's assassination.
I was in Blair County, where I met a friend
who advised me to join them. He told me that

GOVERNOR OF PENNSYLVANIA 289
SwaUow was a high priest in the order, that a
certain Rev. ChaUon was the chaplain. I had
met ChaUon. He was a joiner and chaplain
of a Masonic lodge in Harrisburg, also of the
A. P. A. lodge and the Junior Order of the
United American Mechanics. This was too
deep for me. I told Quay about it and John P.
EUdn. A letter was written to Chaplain
ChaUon by a friend in Blair County who was a
Hairless Goat, asking for information as to the
candidates for governor, and if either was a
Hairless Goat, that the members in Blair
County were strong and they wanted to vote
for a "Goat." ChaUon rephed that the fight
was between Swallow and me; that I was not
a member of the order; that SwaUow was and
if they wanted to drive the CathoHcs out of the
state to vote for SwaUow. These letters were
lithographed and copies sent to every Catholic
priest in the state. They bore fruit. I was
going from Harrisburg to Sunbury on the train
when an Irish CathoHc priest whispered to me,
"We wiU beat the heretic." They did. The
Cathohc vote was very strong for me. I was
elected by a large majority.
From the time of my election to inauguration
19

290 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
I did not see Quay or get any message from him.
He attended the inauguration and after the oath
was administered to me by my friend Justice
WilHams of the Supreme Court there was a
conference at the executive mansion. I had
promised no appointments. Quay did not ask
me to appoint any one in my cabinet. He was
always embarrassed by patronage and often said
to me that he wished aU of the offices were under
the civil service law. There were so many of his
friends to whom he was under obHgations that
it was always a serious problem with him which
one to recommend. He asked me whom I
thought of appointing. I told him W. W. Griest
of Lancaster for secretary of the commonwealth,
John P. EUdn for attorney general and Israel
W. Durham for insurance commissioner. He
asked me if I had promised any of them. I
itold him I had not. After some reflection, he
said that he thought that I could not do better
than to appoint them. I did so and they were
confirmed by the senate. I was very fortunate
in my selections. They were aU able, loyal
men, true to me and their state. I had selected
Edgar C. Gerwig of Allegheny as my private
secretary, which was fortunate, for he was very

GOVERNOR OF PENNSYLVANIA 291
capable and loyal. He had been my private
secretary for several years in Washington. My
list was completed with T. L. Eyre as superin
tendent of public grounds and buildings, and
later with General Frank Reeder as commissioner
of banking. To all of these men I owe much
for their loyal support and efficiency in office.
They were splendid men. I will not go over
in detail the four years of my administration.
I had much to contend with : a deadlock in the
first legislature over the election of a United
States senator and serious strikes in the anthra
cite coal fields; a deficit in the treasury and
many complicating poHtical questions. I got
very Httle assistance out of Quay, for he was not
a dictator. He never asked me to make but
one appointment and that was Lewis E. Beitler
to be deputy secretary of the commonwealth.
I appointed him. The first vacancy in the
Supreme Court came shortly before the state
convention met. He advised me to wait until
after the convention, that it would likely take
the responsibility off my hands. I did so. The
convention nominated Hon. J. Hay Brown of
Lancaster, the present chief justice of the
Supreme Court, a most eminent lawyer and

292 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
great jurist. There were two vacancies in the
Supreme Court. S. Leslie Mestrezat of Union-
town was nominated by the Democratic State
Convention, and as electors could each only
vote for one, he was elected. This was very
fortunate. He has become a great judge,
respected by every one.
I appointed Quay to succeed himself in the
United States Senate after he was acquitted in
the criminal court of Philadelphia on the
charge of violating the election laws of the state,
and the legislature had refused to elect his
successor. While his appointment was not ac
cepted by the United States Senate, at the fol
lowing election where his candidacy was the
issue, a majority of the senators and members
of the legislature were elected in his favor
and he was re-elected United States Senator.
Previous to the November election another
vacancy occurred in the Supreme Court. Some
twenty men in the state expected Quay's support
for this appointment. He was a candidate
for the United States Senate. Had any one of
them been appointed he would have made the
friend appointed helpless to him by his appoint
ment and made nineteen enemies out of the

GOVERNOR OF PENNSYLVANIA 293
others. I saw a way to help a friend and at
the same time render Quay an important service.
I told Quay that I was going to appoint my law
partner, WilHam P. Potter of Pittsburgh. He
recommended in succession his twenty friends.
I refused all of his recommendations and
appointed Potter. He was the only man in the
state I could have appointed without making
trouble for Quay. Nobody charged Potter's
appointment to Quay and the twenty appUcants
remained staunch friends of Quay's. I was not
influenced alone by the desire to serve Quay.
I knew that Potter was an honest, capable
lawyer and that he would make a good judge.
His record on the bench has justified my
appointment. The second legislature gave me much trouble.
They passed two bills, one called the ripper bill
to change the city government of Pittsburgh
and the other to erect a state capitol building
at Harrisburg. I tried to escape both but
could not. The ripper bill was unpopular, but
it was a good biU and the fact that it still remains
the law, without any material change after
fifteen years of trial, proves its merits.
I gained a good many enemies through igno-

294 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
ranee and prejudice and newspaper articles, but
that has long since subsided. I determined to
have nothing to do with the construction of the
capitol building or else to have all to do with it,
for I expected scandal, and that many people
would not believe that politicians could erect an
expensive building without graft. I molded
the bill to suit me under threat of a veto. It
appropriated four millions of dollars and put
the construction of the building entirely in my
hands by making . me and four men to be
appointed by me the commissioners. Quay
refused to have anything to do with it, and said
every one connected with it would get in the
penitentiary. I appointed Edward Bailey of Har
risburg, Professor N. C. Schaeffer of Lancaster,
WilHam H. Graham of Allegheny, and Senator
Snyder of Chester County, commissioners. We
appointed Robert K. Young, solicitor; T. L.
Eyre, superintendent, and E. C. Gerwig, secre
tary. I wiU not speak in detail of the troubles
which we had over granite and plans. We were
four years in completing it and built the finest
capitol building in the country and turned a
considerable sum of money back to the state
treasury. There has never been any scandal

GOVERNOR OF PENNSYLVANIA 295
or breath of suspicion over the construction of
this building. I do not speak of the furnishing
and equipment of the buUding under the
administration of my successor. I had nothing
whatever to do with that.
EUdn was a candidate for governor in 1902.
His opponent was Samuel W. Pennypacker. AU
of the opposition to my administration centered
against Elkin. Quay's influence was against
him, but EUdn carried a majority of the dele
gates, but was beaten by the most corrupt and
shameless purchase of his delegates in the con
vention that the state had ever seen. Elkin
and his friends supported Pennypacker and he
was elected. The shameless purchase of Elkin 's
delegates made great trouble in the party, which
was not entirely healed by Elkin's nomination
and election to the Supreme Court in 1904.
Many changes occurred in our primary election
laws and amendments to the constitution.
In the faU of 1902 I visited Mexico. I was
in the largest cities and spent some ten days in
the City of Mexico. My wife and daughter
Isabel accompanied me, also General Frank
Reeder and wife and Mr. and Mrs. T. L. Eyre,
their son Wallace, Secretary of the Common-

296 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
wealth Hon. W. W. Griest and his wife, and
Frank Rodgers. I was much interested in the
people of that country. They seemed to me
very irresponsible citizens, rather given to dis
order than order, and that safety of Hfe and
property was indifferent to them. A turbulent
people, quick to take offense and easily excited,
jealous, suspicious and quarrelsome. A mixture
of Spanish blood with the native has not pro
duced good law-abiding citizens. Their patriot
ism and their ambitions are purely personal.
The weffare and prosperity of the country is
secondary to the welfare and advancement of
ambitious citizens. President Diaz seemed to be
the only person who was able to keep the coun
try tranquil and the people law-abiding. If, as
President, he sometimes did unlawful things,
they were done to keep peace and public order.
If he dealt summarily with turbulent spirits
whose ambitions were leading them to riot and
revolution, it was because he believed it to be
the only way to meet the situation, not so much
to sustain his own prestige as to preserve the
pubhc peace, credit and prosperity of the
country. Prior history and subsequent events
prove that he was right. He has been the only

GOVERNOR OF PENNSYLVANIA 297
man that has really ever governed Mexico since
Cortez. He gave our party an audience through
the instrumentality of our ambassador. General
Powell. We rode to the capitol in carriages,
accompanied by General Powell, one sunny
afternoon. We were conducted through spacious
rooms and corridors much more richly furnished
than any rooms in the capitol and White
House at Washington. Officers in splendid
uniforms saluted us and guards and soldiers in
bright uniforms stood at attention. Costly
mirrors and furniture and the best works of the
masters in painting and marble, with expensive
carpets and curtains, were tastefully arranged in
the rooms. After being conducted through a
number of the large rooms, we were seated in
a smaller room more richly and beautifully
furnished than any of the others. Officers in
gaudy uniforms stood around. After waiting a
few minutes a quiet, medium-sized man came
into the room unannounced. We were presented
to President Diaz. He stood and received us
quietly and simply. Our conversation was
through an interpreter. I said that I felt greatly
honored to meet him. I wanted to pay him a
compliment, so I told him that he looked like

298 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
Senator Quay of Pennsylvania. He smiled at
that. He did look and act hke Quay. He had
heard and read much of Quay. He was inter
ested and asked me a number of questions about
him, aU of which I could readily answer. There
was no importance or official bearing in him.
He was dressed plainly in a suit of light gray
clothing, which could have been bought at
Wanamaker's for eighteen dollars. His shoes
had probably been blacked the day before. His
coUar and shirt front were clean, but his blue
string necktie had not been recently pressed.
He then shook hands with all of us in a quiet
informal way and we were conducted out. He
has always interested me. He could not have
governed the United States as he governed
Mexico, neither could any of our Presidents
have governed Mexico as they have governed
the United States. I am of the opinion that
Mexico will never be governed except by
another Diaz. I found two young men there,
sons of General Dent of Potter County, Penn
sylvania. They had been engaged in business
there several years, and were close observers,
intelligent and successful in business. I knew
their father. They were very kind to us and

GOVERNOR OF PENNSYLVANIA 299
from them I learned much of Diaz's ways of
governing. The Americans in Mexico all had
great confidence in Diaz. They all voted for
him at every election. Some few years before
my visit there was a failure of the corn crop in
Mexico. The price of corn rose rapidly. It
had nearly aU been cornered by speculators and
hard times were pressing the poor peons, whose
principal food is corn, ground by hand between
two stones, mixed with water and baked into
cakes over a little wood fire in a corner of their
miserable one-room adobe huts. There was a
high tariff on corn from the states. So far as
I could learn the constitution of Mexico is
similar in most respects to our own and their
laws gave no power to the President to suspend,
lower or increase the tariffs fixed by congress.
What was to be done? The President could
convene congress, but before any law could be
passed the suffering of the people would be
great. Besides, it was doubtful whether con
gress would pass a remedial law against the
influence of the corn speculators. There was
plenty of cheap corn in the states clamoring to
get into Mexico, but prevented by the high
tariff. This is what Diaz did. He issued a

300 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
proclamation that if the price of corn after ten
days was above the usual normal price he would
suspend the tariff on corn from the states until
the next crop was harvested. This at once
brought the price of corn down to the normal,
and the sufferings of the poor people were over.
Diaz had no legal right to do this, but outside
of the criticisms of the com speculators every
one approved his action.
Six miles out of Mexico is the Roman Catholic
Cathedral of Guadalupe. There, on the twelfth
day of December in each year, come the faithful
from far and near to be cured of their ills through
the influence of a sacred rehc which holds its
sway through a legend which is everywhere
beheved to be true. The legend is that after
the conquest of Mexico and the introduction of
the Roman Catholic religion, a converted native
was passing along a path where the cathedral
now stands, when the Virgin Mary appeared to
him and told him to go and tell the bishop to
build a cathedral where she stood. The native
told the bishop, who paid no attention to the
message, thinking that if the Virgin Mary
wanted a cathedral built she would speak to
him about it. He told the native that he must

GOVERNOR OF PENNSYLVANIA 301
bring a token. A few days afterwards the
native was again passing the same spot when
he saw the Virgin Mary. She asked him
the result of her message to the bishop. The
native said that the bishop would not pay
any attention to him unless he brought a token.
She pointed to a barren rock a few feet away,
when instantly there appeared beautiful roses
in bloom. It was winter and there were no roses
in the country. She told him to take them in
his apron to the bishop and repeat her message.
The native did so, and as he let down his leather
apron and the roses feU on the floor, there was
seen the face of the Virgin Mary on the apron
as if it had been painted there. The cathedral
was built and each year this apron is exposed to
the view of worthy, faithful beUevers, and it is
said, makes many marvelous cures. A few years
ago a reformer priest began to preach that the
legend was not sufficiently authenticated, that
he did not believe that the face on the apron
was the face of the Virgin Mary. He created
great excitement, and there were outbreaks and
riots. Diaz sent for the priest and told him that
his preaching was creating great disturbance and
if he kept it up riots would foUow and it might

302 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
result in revolution. The priest said he was very
sorry, but that he could not accept the legend
when his investigation led him to beheve that
it was not true. Diaz said, "So you do not
believe that the Virgin Mary appeared to the
Indian?" "No," said the priest. "But,"
said Diaz, "you do beheve that men occasionally
suddenly disappear in Mexico?" "Yes," said
the priest. "Well," said Diaz, "my advice
to you is to say no more against the legend of
Guadalupe." The priest took the advice and
preached no more against the legend and the
tumult subsided.

CHAPTER XL
Return to Practice
I WENT back to Pittsburgh in 1903 and
resumed the law practice with my son
Stephen under the firm name of Stone and
Stone. I had been away twelve years, eight
years in congress and four years at Harrisburg.
WhUe Potter was in the office the clients were
held pretty weU and they had increased.
Stephen had done weU, but there had been a
loss of some cHents. I gave my whole time and
attention to the law practice and soon was
employed in some important cases. I fought
in the courts as attorney for AUegheny City to
prevent its consolidation with Pittsburgh. The
first act of the legislature providing for consoli
dation was declared unconstitutional by the Su
preme Court of the state, but the governor called
a special session of the legislature. D. T. Watson,
one of the ablest lawyers of his time, prepared a
new bill for consohdation. It was passed and
sustained by the Supreme Court of the state
and the Supreme Court of the United States.
(303)

304 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
My fortune was gone through the endorse
ments of notes for poHtical friends and losing
investments, but I worked hard and won some
important cases. I had had too much poHtical
experience to inspire my clients with any too
great respect for my knowledge of the law, but
I had tact and management and was a good
actor before a jury. I had learned human nature
and men in the greatest men's school in the
world, the House of Representatives at Wash
ington. We gradually obtained quite a large
and lucrative law practice. My son Stephen
was more than an assistant. He became a
very good lawyer and advocate and vidth
A. Wilson McCandless, our junior partner, we
worked advantageously. I will not speak of
the many important cases that we tried. There
was one, however, which I will tell about, as it
shows how tact and management play impor
tant parts in a lawsuit before a jury. The
Babcock Lumber Company, our cHents, had
purchased aU of the timber on a fourteen-hun-
dred-acre tract of land in Somerset County.
Their contract provided that they should not
cut any standing timber less than six inches in
diameter two feet from the ground. The

RETURN TO PRACTICE 305
owners of the land claimed that the company
had cut many trees less than six inches in
diameter two feet from the ground. They
sent a lot of men to measure the stumps of
these trees, dashing a brush of red paint on each
stump. They claimed for several thousand
young trees which, under the statute of the state
allowing three times the value, totaled a claim
of about forty thousand dollars. I was taken
into the case about a month before it was tried.
I have always beheved that it is quite improb
able that the average man will at aU times do
thorough and accurate work. The stumps
were there, each with a swish of red paint upon
the top of it. I sent a gang of men to measure
each stump and dig up and bring to the court
house each and every stump with paint on it
measuring more than six inches in diameter.
In all the stumps they found eleven with paint
on them that measured more than six inches
across the top. I put each one in a paper flour
sack and tied the top. The case was tried before
Judge Kooser in Somerset County, a very able
judge. When a witness for the plaintiff would
testify to the measurement of the stumps, I
would untie one of my stumps and, pointing to

306 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
the paint, he would identify it as one of the
stumps measured for the plaintiff. I would
then ask, "Did you actually measure all of the
stumps with a rule?" He would reply, "We
measured the most of them, but we estimated
some that were clearly less than six inches."
"Is this stump less than six inches?" "Yes,"
answered he. I said, "Measure it. Here is a
rule." It measured six and a quarter inches
and so I would destroy the testimony of each
of the plaintiff's witnesses, and the eleven
stumps, like Joseph's lean kine in his dream, ate
up and destroyed the thousands of the plaintiff's
stumps. The verdict was necessarily for the
defendant. Here was a case of over-prepared
ness by the plaintiff. If he had not painted
his stumps he would have obtained a verdict.
John Stewart of Chambersburg had been
elected a judge of the Supreme Court, while
Robert von Moschzisker and Robert S. Frazer
from Philadelphia and Pittsburgh had become
members of the court. They were aU very able
and capable judges, having had much experience
in the common pleas courts of their counties.
In October, 1915, this court and the state met
with a great loss in the death of John P. Elkin.

RETURN TO PRACTICE 307
The governor appointed Emory A. Walling of
Erie, a common pleas judge of state-wide repu
tation, as Elkin's successor. At a presentation
of Judge Elkin's portrait to the court by Mrs.
EUdn I made a brief address at her request
and insert it here as my estimate of the man
and his character.

CHAPTER XLI
Remarks of William A. Stone at the Pre
sentation OF THE Portrait of Justice
John P. Elkin, Deceased, to the
Supreme Court, March 20,
1916.
I FIRST knew John P. EUdn in about
1895. He was then deputy attorney
general. The attorney general was H. C.
McCormick, one of the ablest lawyers in the
northern tier of counties. I saw him at intervals
during the four years that he was deputy
attorney general. He impressed me as a man
of candor and sincerity from my first knowledge
of him. In 1898 he was chairman of the Repub
lican State Committee. My relation to him
then became personal and intimate and remained
so until his death. When he became attorney
general in January, 1899, he brought to the
office the skill and training he had learned from
his predecessor and a thorough knowledge of
the work of the office. There is no period of
four years in the history of the state when the
(308)

JOHN P. ELKIN 309
demands upon the attorney general were more
unusual and tested the ability of the lawyer so
much as they did during his occupancy of the
office. Four great and far-reaching questions
concerning the power of the executive were
settled and adjudicated in the courts and the
United States Senate by him and his able
deputy, F. W. Fleitz, during this period. The
first was the power of the governor to veto a
joint resolution seeking to amend the constitu
tion of the state, resulting in a decision by this
court that such a resolution need not be pre
sented to the governor for his approval —
reported in Commonwealth vs. Griest, 196 Pa.
State Reports, page 396. Prior to this decision
the governors had been signing and vetoing such
resolutions, frequently thereby preventing the
people from voting upon the adoption of the
amendment. While the report of the case does
not show him to have been connected with it,
stiU it was his plan and work to test the question
and have it finally settled.
The next question was of great importance,
in which the power of the governor to approve
a part of an item in a general appropriation bill
and veto a part of the same item was sustained

310 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
in this court, reported in Commonwealth vs.
Barnett, 199 Pa. State Reports, page 161.
Previous to this decision it was generally sup
posed that governors must either approve the
whole item or veto it — ^many items were reluc
tantly approved by governors because they were
in part meritorious and necessary. This resulted
in a deficit in the treasury, as the appropriations
were invariably greater than the revenues.
Since this decision the governors have been
able by reducing items to keep the appropriations
within the anticipated revenue. The next
question was important to the whole country as
well as this state. It was the power of the
governor to appoint a United States Senator
while the legislature was in session. Judge
EUdn argued this question before the Judi
ciary Committee of the United States Senate.
His argument was so able that he was person
ally compHmented by his opponent. Senator
Edmunds, and by many able lawyers and
judges. But the most important question of
aU for the first time to be decided in any court
in this country was the power of the governor
to declare martial law. In Commonwealth vs.
Shortall, 206 Pa. State Reports, page 165, you

JOHN P. ELKIN 311
will find this case reported. It has been the
leading case upon this subject and settled the
question for the first time, holding that the
governor of a state may declare martial law and
enforce it. It was a bold stand that Judge
Elkin and his deputy attorney general took,
fraught with serious consequences if not sus
tained by the courts, but made necessary by the
condition existing at the time in certain counties
of this state. Fortunately, the patriotism of
this court rose above the technical objections of
skilled attorneys, and by a unanimous opinion
this court upheld the order of the governor and
the commanding officer of the National Guard in
practicaUy making the civil authorities sub
ordinate to the miUtary authorities when cir
cumstances justified extreme measures to pre
serve the public peace.
Judge Elkin was fitted in the school of
strenuous experience to sit in the highest tribunal
of the state and when he became a candidate for
a place upon this bench the people of the state
showed their appreciation of his merits by
electing him a justice of this court by a large
majority. Of his record as a justice of the
court I will not speak. The published reports

312 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
of his decisions are accessible to all. He was
not new and unacquainted with the law when he
came here. He was ripe with the study and
experience of great constitutional and govern
mental questions. He early demonstrated by
his opinions his famiharity with the issues that
came before him. His opinions rank well with
his predecessors and colleagues. His logic was
keen, forcible, direct, compelling assent. He
grew and grew as a jurist with every year's
experience until his rank and status as a judge
was not questioned by any one. He worked
hard and wrestled hard with the many difficult
problems that came before him, but he settled
every one of them in the eye of his judgment
and conscience and never shirked a single
great responsibihty of his high office and never
acquiesced in the opinion of others without
testing and proving the result by knowledge
obtained by investigation. He was conscien
tious. His motto was, 'Be fearless, but first
be right.' He had great courage. Observant
of public sentiment, he was yet independent of it
and was never controlled by it. Glad when it
approved his course, sorry when it did not, but
at all times uninfluenced by it. He was a

JOHN P. ELKIN 313
great judge, a righteous judge. But it is of his
charming character as a man that I wish to
speak. He was a loyal friend. He would
sacrifice much for his friends. His friends were
many. They aU loved him. He held the key
of sympathy with which he unlocked every
troubled heart. He beheved that suffering alone
established a claim to sympathy. He never
withheld it from man, woman or child. Abso
lutely clean moraUy himself, he yet never
inflicted his morals upon others, and while not
justifying shortcomings in them, the 'holier than
thou' thought never entered his mind. He
was simple in his tastes and habits; very little
sufficed him. He was not vain or proud or
egotistical. Many envied him, but none were
his enemies. He was a great character. He
was John Ridd in that matchless story, 'Lorna
Doone.' The strength and beauty of his
character were as wide and open as the sea. His
friendship was Hke the shadow of a great rock
in a desert land. He is gone. He sleeps in the
bosom of the county that he loved. The rich
and the poor ahke had tears for him and his
untimely death. When Decoration Day comes
his grave will be covered with flowers. They will

314 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
not all come from the florist. There will be
wild flowers plucked from poor men's gardens,
the forests and the meadows. There will be
flowers from the old and the young; Httle chil
dren who loved him, and for whom he always
had a smile and a kind word, will bring them.
Their play will cease as they speak in hushed
voices of the man who had such a wonderfully
winning smile. Mr. Chief Justice, you can
paint the Hly, you can paint the rose so exact
and truthful that it can hardly be distinguished
from the model, but, sir, there is one thing of
the rose that you cannot paint: you cannot
paint the fragrance of the rose. I can teU the
story of John Elkin; I can tell of his rapid rise,
his exploits, his conquests; I can speak of his
great abihty, his great sympathy for mankind;
I can teU of his talents, but I cannot paint the
fragrance of his character and his friendship
or the great love, respect and veneration which
his friends have for him."
On December 10, 1915, the judges of the
Supreme Court appointed me its prothonotary.
I was appointed prothonotary of the Superior
Court by the judges of that court on March
4, 1916. The Superior Court was created by

JOHN P. ELKIN 315
an act of the legislature in 1895. The tenure of
office is ten years. Only one of the original
members, GeorgeB. Orlady, remains on the bench.
He was elected for the third time in 1915, and is
now the president judge of that court. He is a
very able learned judge. His colleagues, William
D. Porter, John J. Henderson, John B. Head, John
W. Kephart, Frank M. Trexler and J. Henry Wil
liams, are all able, conscientious judges. This
court from its organization has held high place in
the judiciary of our state. It has disposed of
more than 12,000 cases since its creation. My
predecessor was James T. Mitchell, ex-chief jus
tice of the Supreme Court. The office is a very
dignified and honorable one and the fees derived
from it are sufficient to support me and those
dependent on me. I have passed the age of
threescore years and ten and I am contented and
satisfied. I have no apologies to make for what
I have done or what I have left undone. I
have made some mistakes which were plainly
apparent afterwards, but at the time I thought
my action was for the best.
I spend my summers at Four Mile Run in
Tioga County, where I have a comfortable
cottage. Some of my children and grand-

316 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
children are generally with me. Friends fre
quently visit me there. I have spent most of
my time thel-e from June to October for fifteen
years. Neighboring cottages are occupied by
Lloyd Smith, Frank Deans, Leonard Harrison,
Bob Young, Henry Gardner and William Cham
paign, all old Tioga County friends. It is a
wild, beautiful gorge on Pine Creek with the
mountains ranging from two thousand to twenty-
three hundred feet above sea level all about,
with no public road to it but the New York
Central Railroad. There are speckled trout in
Four Mile Run and black bass in Pine Creek.
I take great pleasure in studying their habits
and catch my share of them. I am an optimist
and do not waste any time in thinking about my
mistakes or those of my friends. I am con
tented and happy. There are bear, deer, wild
cats, porcupines, ground-hogs, pheasants and
squirrels about. We do not molest each other.
I love to hear the woodthrush sing in the early
morning and the wildcat cry at night. The
black bass is the game fish in our northern
Pennsylvania waters. I love to watch him
build his nest and rear his young. He will
select a smooth surface bottom near the shore

JOHN P. ELKIN 317
where the water is still, with a normal depth of
three or four inches; then he brings in his mouth
smooth, round stones and lays them like a mosaic
floor side by side, covering a circular place
about eighteen inches in diameter. Then he
brings larger stones and lays them in a wall
around his floor. He then brings other smaU
stones and lays three or four layers of floor,
one above the other until they reach the surface
of the water. His house is then finished and
he fares forth in search of a mate. He courts
her, bites her in the neck if she is unwilling and
chases and drives her into the nest. If she
spawns within a reasonable time she stays.
If she does not he drives her off and seeks
another. He sheds his milt over the spawn
and drives her off. He will not allow her any
part in raising the family. As soon as the little
ones are hatched he brings small soft worms and
bugs from the under side of plants and weeds
growing at the edge of the water and feeds
them, and changes to larger and harder food as
they grow. When large enough to navigate,
he takes them out of the nest and teaches them
how to obtain their food. He is ever on guard
near the nest and woe to the fish that comes

318 THE TALE OF A PLAIN MAN
near it. He will dart at a fish twice his size. When
the little ones are able to fare for themselves
he leaves them. He is the fiercest, hardest
fighter among our fish. He is not a cannibal.
I have found most every kind of water life inside
black bass that he could swallow, but I have
never found another bass in him. Minnows,
suckers and small eels I frequently find in
cleaning him. A fifteen-inch bass when hooked
makes a lusty fight. He fights with wisdom and
strategy. He will run a hundred feet away
from you. Then your line is slack and you
think he is loose, when he is likely to demon
strate within a rod of you. He will leap into
the air two feet. Let him have the line, only
puU when he is not pulling. You have got to
drown him. Have him swallow water. This
he must do when moved through the water
swiftly at long distances. In his ordinary con
dition he does not swallow water, but simply
gets the oxygen out of it through his gills.
Don't try to pull him out of the water — when
he gets fagged and full of water near the shore,
get him with a landing net or, if you have
none, lay down your pole and get into the
water behind him and throw him out upon the

JOHN P. ELKIN 319
bank with your hands. One large bass caught
after a spirited fight will keep up your spirits
and furnish a topic of talk for forty-eight hours.
There is not much difference between the
fight put up by a black bass and a speckled
trout of the same size, but I think the bass puts
up the most intelligent fight. I do not fish for
the table, but for the sport of it. James Scarlet,
a successful fly fisherman of Danville, Pa., tells
of meeting a countryman on a trout stream who
told him that there was a large trout in a
certain hole who would not take a bait, but
might take a fly. Scarlet gave him several flies
and a leader and said to him that he ought to
have a landing net or he would not be able to
land him. The man said, "I don't want to
land him. I want him to get away so I can
catch him again." This evidences the true
spirit of the sport of fishing. I have four months
of fishing out of the twelve each year. With
four months of fishing and camp life, when your
thoughts are occupied by the sport and your
environments, you will not think and worry so
much about other things during the balance of
the year. I envy no one. I wish all men and
women were as contended and happy as I am.

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