My boyhood and Youth 



warning word was spoken of the dangers of 

 over-work. On the contrary, even when sick 

 we were held to our tasks as long as we could 

 stand. Once in harvest-time I had the mumps 

 and was unable to swallow any food except 

 milk, but this was not allowed to make any 

 difference, while I staggered with weakness and 

 sometimes fell headlong among the sheaves. 

 Only once was I allowed to leave the harvest- 

 field — when I was stricken down with pneu- 

 monia. I lay gasping for weeks, but the Scotch 

 are hard to kill and I pulled through. No 

 physician was called, for father was an enthu- 

 siast, and always said and believed that God 

 and hard work were by far the best doctors. 



None of our neighbors were so excessively 

 industrious as father; though nearly all of the 

 Scotch, English, and Irish worked too hard, 

 trying to make good homes and to lay up 

 money enough for comfortable independence. 

 Excepting small garden-patches, few of them 

 had owned land in the old country. Here their 

 craving land-hunger was satisfied, and they 

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