Often I began work as early
as four o'clock in the morning.
The first thing I ever learned in the way of book knowledge was
while working in this salt-furnace. Each salt-packer had his barrels
marked with a certain number. The number allotted to my stepfather
was "18." At the close of the day's work the boss of the packers
would come around and put "18" on each of our barrels, and I soon
learned to recognize that figure wherever I saw it, and after a while
got to the point where I could make that figure, though I knew nothing
about any other figures or letters.
From the time that I can remember having any thoughts about
anything, I recall that I had an intense longing to learn to read. I
determined, when quite a small child, that, if I accomplished nothing
else in life, I would in some way get enough education to enable me to
read common books and newspapers. Soon after we got settled in some
manner in our new cabin in West Virginia, I induced my mother to get
hold of a book for me. How or where she got it I do not know, but in
some way she procured an old copy of Webster's "blue-back" spelling-
book, which contained the alphabet, followed by such meaningless words
as "ab," "ba," "ca," "da." I began at once to devour this book, and I
think that it was the first one I ever had in my hands.
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