A boy's best friend; A boy without ambition; "A sucker ready to bite at any bait"; Remembers his brother's counsel; Off to sea; Completely transformed.

I once heard a blind man sing—I remember one line of the chorus:

"A BOY'S BEST FRIEND IS HIS MOTHER."

How true is that and the poor boy doesn't realize it until the mother is taken from him. After she is gone out of the home, the world is never again what it was to him.

My home was broken up by the death of my mother when I was only thirteen. I became a wanderer. Sometimes I worked on a farm, sometimes I went to school, after a fashion. When my brother, an "old forty-niner," as the first gold-hunters in California were called, visited relatives at Pleasant Hill in Dallas county, he found me in school. He thought that travel would be the best schooling for me. So he asked me one day how I would like to go to California. My answer in the negative amazed him. I was perfectly content to remain where I was. I was honest about it. I had been to Montgomery, Selma, Cahaba and Prattville, and had frequently seen steam boats on the Alabama—had actually ridden on one—had but one desire as to travel ungratified. I wanted some day to go to Mobile and then to East Mississippi to see my kin. I had determined to make that trip if I lived to be grown; beyond that I had no ambition to see the world.

This satisfied condition indicated to my brother that

I WAS WITHOUT AMBITION.

This distressed him no little. Through another party he approached me next time. I was asked if I would be willing to go to California to look after some business for my brother; then to return if I desired. To this proposition, I readily consented. It seems ludicrous, indeed, now to think of sending an ignorant boy on such a journey, to "look after business;" but I fell into the scheme and felt my importance as never before.

My brother was wise and knew the ways of the world and was kind enough to accompany me as far as he could. First he took me down the Alabama to Mobile, then sent me alone up the M. & O. (the first railroad I ever saw) to Enterprise, Miss., to visit my relatives beyond there in Jasper county. I hired a horse and buggy from a Mr. Edmonson and drove out twenty-four miles to my brother-in-law's home. Returning, he accompanied me to Montgomery by boat, thence by rail to Savannah, Charleston, Wilmington, Richmond, Baltimore, Washington, Philadelphia and finally to New York, two days before the time for the steamer to sail. We lay over a day at most of the cities mentioned to give me a chance to learn some of the ways of the world. I was a

"SUCKER, READY TO BITE AT ANY BAIT."

I doubt if ever a boy started on so long a trip as green as I. One incident will show my ignorance. While in New York, one afternoon, I saw a great commotion on the streets. Going out I saw my first fire engine. The engine was of the old kind, with long ropes attached, pulled by men. There the poor fellows were toiling over the rough streets, tugging at the ropes and frantically appealing to the crowds of people who lined the sidewalks to come to their aid. I had read of great fires destroying large cities and turning multitudes out as homeless wanderers, and I made sure that just such a thing was about to happen to New York. I was paralyzed at the utter indifference of the people who gazed unmoved at the heroic firemen and turned a deaf ear to their appeals. I could stand it no longer, so I leaped out into the street and seized the rope. I was a tall, slim, awkward lad, about eighteen years old, thin as a match, pale as a ghost and had on a long Jim Swinger. The crowd cheered, but I didn't know what it was about. The firemen encouraged me, of course. "Go it, my laddie, brave boy; now we'll save the town," were some of the cheering remarks the firemen spoke as I tugged away with all my might on the rope. "Stand up, my son," was another, as I slipped on the cobble stones. The fire reached, I was put in position with the others to pump the machine. I knew nothing of what was going on, for I was intent on trying to save the town. After awhile, by the awkwardness of some fellow who held the nozzle (of course it was all accidental) the stream struck me full in the breast and I was nearly drowned. A great shout went up from the crowd, and I realized that the eyes of several thousand spectators, who had been drawn to the fire, were centered on me. I guessed afterward that the fire, which I never saw, had been subdued, and they were having a little sport at my expense.

I turned loose the pump as though I had been shot, drew my overcoat tight about me, for it was very cold, and darted through the crowd, going I knew not whither. Fortunately

MY BROTHER'S COUNSEL CAME TO MY AID:

"If you ever get lost in a city, don't try to find your way back, but hail the first hack you see, and tell the driver to take you to your hotel." This I did, and as the carriage rumbled over the streets across several blocks, I was wishing and praying that I might get to my room without being seen by my brother. He was not in the lobby of the hotel, and I was congratulating myself, as I wearily toiled up the stairs, that I had missed him, and he would never know of my misfortune; but I was doomed to disappointment. Opening the door, there he was in the room! As I stood before him, bedraggled with mud and water, his eyes opened wide and he took me in. "Where have you been?" he exclaimed. I gasped out: "To the fire!" He was not a prayer-meeting man, and I will not repeat his language. As he rolled on the bed, yelling like a Comanche Indian, I was utterly disgusted with him. I saw nothing to laugh about. I have never helped at a fire since then, and when I hear the fire alarm and see the engine in its mad rush, I am inclined to want to go in the other direction.

OFF TO SEA

is a beautiful thing to read about, but it has a serious side. I didn't mind separating with my brother so much. He had introduced me to the captain and purser of the steamer, besides these, I knew not a soul. I was much interested, for the hour or two before nightfall, watching the shipping. Everything was new to me, but darkness came down upon us before we were out of the harbor. I shall never forget the sensation when the vessel struck the first billow of the rolling ocean. As the old vessel lurched forward, and her timbers began to creak, some one said: "That's pretty strong for a starter." Another said: "Shouldn't wonder if we didn't have a rough voyage." And yet another: "It is always dangerous at sea in March." For the first time I began to get alarmed. I watched the swinging lamps, the supper tables that looked as if they were going over and spill all the dishes; the sick passengers as they flew either to their staterooms or to the upper deck. Only a little while elapsed before I was in bed myself, wishing for my brother and abusing myself for ever undertaking the trip.

Oh! the desolation and loneliness of that horrid night as I rolled with every motion of the vessel! I never slept a wink. Next morning I looked out of the port-hole and saw the mad waves of the ocean. To my surprise the sun was shining; but it looked to me like a storm was raging. I learned afterwards that the Atlantic is always rough and that I was the only one on board who was much alarmed. Three days and nights I kept my bed from sheer fright and home-sickness. I know it was not sea-sickness, for I tested myself, time and time again, afterwards and never had the first symptom.

I had about made up my mind that I would never see the home folks again, but would die in a few days and be buried in the ocean. The third day the old Captain came in on his rounds of inspection. When he found that I was not sick, he shouted: "Pshaw, boy, get out of this and be a man; get on deck and get a sniff of the salt air and you will be all right in two minutes and as hungry as a wolf. Out, out with you; be a man." In less time than it takes to write it

I WAS COMPLETELY TRANSFORMED.

All my fears were gone and I found the Captain's words true. As I looked at the hundreds of people on the open deck, there were eight hundred passengers, all happy and cheerful, I felt disgraced to have been such a coward. There was the boundless ocean on every side. No sign of land anywhere and, strange to say, I was not a bit afraid. The reassuring words of the Captain had saved me. Many a poor fellow has given up and gone down in the battle of life, who might have been saved if someone had only spoken the cheering words in time.

Down through the tropical islands to Aspinwall, now called Colon, across the Isthmus of Darien, where the Panama Canal is now being constructed, on the railroad to the ancient city of Panama and up the beautiful Pacific into the lovely harbor of Acapulco, Mexico, where we stopped a day for coal, and finally through the Golden Gate; we dropped anchor in the Bay of San Francisco, just twenty-four days from New York. Not a soul in all the great city did I know; but I was soon in the hands of the friends of my brother. I felt like Mrs. Partington when she struck land after being to sea, she exclaimed: "Thank the Lord for terra cotta," and I promised myself never again to get on an ocean steamer.