A HAPPY MISFORTUNE
HON. BURTON L. FRENCH, A.B., PH.M.
Burton L. French of Moscow, Idaho, who is now serving his fifth term as representative in Congress, was born on a farm near Delphi, Ind., August 1, 1875, of Charles A. and Mina P. (Fischer) French. In 1880 the family moved farther west and lived two and a half years near Kearney, Nebraska, where young Burton attended four terms of three months each, in the country schools. When he was seven years of age, his people moved to the Northwest, living part of the time in the State of Washington and part of the time in Idaho. At the age of fifteen, Mr. French had completed, in the Palouse, Wash., public schools, a course practically equivalent to our present public school course, including the first year of high school work. From this period in his life, he worked his way through the preparatory school and through college, taking the degree of A.B. at the University of Idaho in 1901, and the degree of Ph.M., at the University of Chicago in 1903.
HOW AND WHY HE WORKED HIS WAY THROUGH COLLEGE.
Mr. French says: “As one of the older children in a large family, the responsibilities that rested upon my father and mother at the time I was ready to take up educational work preparatory to entering college, and as well later, to carry through a course in college, were such that I was thrown upon my own resources.
“Two of the chief circumstances that attended my early life were:—
“1. That of being required as a boy to perform under the direction of my father and mother, a reasonable amount of wholesome manual labor, largely the kind that is required of the ordinary farmer’s boy.
“2. That at the age of sixteen, I was thrown upon my own resources in the matter of continuing my educational work.
“My parents, aside from teaching me respect for manual labor and in a large degree helping me to be proficient in the same, inspired me with the ambition to complete a college course. I did not regard the fact that I would need to work my way through college as in any way an embarrassment, and I do not recall ever having had the wish that my people could send me through college.
“Before reaching my eighteenth year, I had been able to attend the preparatory department of the University of Idaho for six months and had earned the money to carry me through this period by serving as clerk in a general merchandise store and by working in hotels as a waiter.
“Following the close of the term of school, I found work as a waiter during the summer months, and in September following my eighteenth birthday I began teaching in a country school. During the succeeding eight years I completed the work in the preparatory school and a college course in the University of Idaho, leading to the degree of A.B., earning most of the money that I required to pay my expenses by teaching school and at periods when there was no employment in this field, by working upon a farm.
“My circumstances required that I take my college course by doing part of a year’s work at a time and I was able to attend college from the opening of the college year in the fall until the close of the college year in the spring, only once during my college course and that was during my junior year. During the period, too, I was away from college two years in succession, serving during this time as principal of the public schools at Juliaetta, Idaho.
“During the latter portion of my undergraduate years, I was able to do a small amount of tutoring in the preparatory department of the University, and as well, at one time earned my board by managing a boarding club that accommodated from twenty-five to sixty students and faculty members. In order to remain in college and complete my senior year with my class, it was necessary for me to borrow a small amount of money, which I was able to do, without imposing upon anyone else the responsibility of standing as my security.
“Prior to completing my senior year in the University of Idaho, I had been elected a Fellow in the Political Science Department of the University of Chicago. My fellowship, supplemented by a small amount of money which I borrowed, enabled me to do postgraduate work in that institution, leading to the degree of Ph.M., which I received in 1903.
“It is proper to say that during my undergraduate days I was able to do certain classes of work while engaged in teaching that helped me materially in carrying my college work upon returning to the University. For instance, one spring I made my herbarium, collecting, mounting and classifying the plants required to be assembled by each student in botany.
“Not only was this work of benefit to me, but it was of intense interest to every boy and girl in the country surrounding my school. Many were the children making herbariums of their own, who would assume an air of superior importance in comparing themselves with their fellows who did not accept the names anemone-nemorosa in lieu of wind flower, ranunculus ranunculaceæ in place of buttercup, and the common variety of the saxifrage family as philadelphus-grandiflorus instead of mock orange. This was the most clear-cut piece of work that I probably did outside of the classroom, though in history, mathematics, and the languages, I was able to do a large amount of work that made it possible for me to carry with less difficulty the classroom work upon returning to the University.
“Another thing that is quite as important as the manner in which I earned the money to carry me through college, is the manner in which I spent it. The high cost of living was a serious problem, and having obtained my money in serious manner, I necessarily measured its value with much care, and during more than half of my years in the preparatory and undergraduate school, I found it necessary to be a member of a bachelors’ club made up of students, who, like myself, were working their way through college. In this way we were able to lower the expenses of living considerably.
“In the letter from the author of ‘College Men without Money,’ Mr. Riddle in referring to me as one who had worked his way through college, spoke of me as among that fortunate class, and I regard his phrase as a very happy one. Probably the brief recital of my experiences and the way in which I earned money to complete my college course, may mean little or nothing to anyone other than myself. To me, however, the working my way through college is a positive asset, and as I said in the beginning of this sketch, I regard it as one of the most fortunate circumstances of my life.”
Moscow, Idaho.
FINDING ONE’S PLACE
IRWIN W. GERNERT, A.B.
The problem of a college education confronts many young people. We have many colleges, but how to obtain a college education is a vital question to many high school graduates and others who have not the money. Here are the colleges and the teachers, but many do not have the funds on which to go. This is the decisive hour, as here it is that one decides to climb the hill or remain at the foot.
My experience in working my way through college is not peculiar, but tallies with the experience of hundreds who have undertaken the same task. If a person is determined to get an education he will succeed, and herein lies the keynote to the problem.
It was my fortune to attend a college situated in a small town, as such locations are always best for the one who has to make his way. Work was easily secured, and as my desire was to get an education by my labor, I seized every opportunity for making a dime. Serving as janitor, making fires in the early morning hours, raking snow and ice from the college walks in the winter, raking leaves on the campus in the fall and spring, serving as clerk on Saturdays and other work of this kind paid my way. But that which gave me the inspiration for all this, and made the task easy, was the one great purpose of preparing for the gospel ministry.
I have finished the A.B. course in Wittenberg College, Springfield, Ohio, and was better off financially the day of my graduation than the day on which I entered. There is work for him who desires it. There is always a place in life which we should fill, and the finding of that place is an epoch in our lives, and the preparation for it is what makes the event memorable and life-lasting.
Louisville, Ky.
“THE TAR HEEL”
H. B. GUNTER, A.B.
The why: I wanted a college education.
The how: By sticking type, kicking the 8 x 12 Gordon jobber, feeding the old Babcock drum cylinder, yanking the lever of the paper cutter (which usually had a dull knife), doctoring the ramshackle old engine in the print shop of The University Press at Chapel Hill, N. C., and working fourteen and sixteen hours a day,—and enjoying it, too—on rare occasions, especially when there was a ball game on the “the Hill.”
Later, when I came to be manager of the shop, the principal part of my work, at times, was finding new and novel excuses for not getting the work out on time. I am not sure, but I am inclined to think that I did my full share of creative work in that field, a field in which imagination has done and is doing wonders. I believe that I may safely refer to Acting-President E. K. Graham, Dr. Archibald Henderson, Dr. George Howe, Dr. L. R. Wilson, Professor N. W. Walker and other members of the University faculty for testimonials along this line. Certainly they will bear me out in the statement that I always had an excuse ready; also that I usually needed one.
The smell of the print shop had been in my nostrils since I was a mere youngster. I “learned the case” on The Express, at Sanford, N. C.; graduated into the shop of Cole Printing Company, in the same town; worked for a short time in one or two other shops, and so when I started for Chapel Hill in the fall of 1904, fired with enthusiasm by glowing tales of life on “the Hill,” I felt that I was fairly well equipped to earn my living and get an education.
I might state, parenthetically, that the enthusiasm lasted almost to University Station. It came back later with compound interest; but when I first set foot on Chapel Hill soil I did not stand calmly and survey the world that I had come to conquer. In fact, the conquering instinct in my manly breast was distinctly dormant.
I was armed with fifty dollars, enough to pay the registration fees and to give me a feeble shove. The above soon lost its force, however, and it was up to me to dig, which I did. There may be poetry and there may be glory in working your way through college, but I found that it consisted mostly of digging.
I got along fairly well with my school work during my freshman year. I earned enough money, lacking just five dollars, besides my initial fifty, to pay my expenses, but I didn’t luxuriate noticeably. I did, however, learn to study.
It was well that I had learned this. During the summer I received the appointment as manager of the print shop at Chapel Hill. And then my troubles began in earnest. I used to examine my head before going to bed, to discover if my hair had turned white during the day.
The shop handled six or seven university publications, ranging from the weekly students’ paper to the annual catalogue, in addition to a goodly amount of job work. The work, all except the binding, was done by students. Their work at best was irregular. The supply of printer-students was always short. The university authorities gave free tuition to the boys in the shop, but there never were enough of them on hand to keep up with the work properly. It was owing to this fact that I was compelled to develop the excuse-making part of my imagination. Oh, it was a man-sized job. And I was just turned nineteen, and the little blue devils were constantly on the job. It was probably very fine training. But it was also rather fierce.
But never mind. The job carried with it a regular salary, ridiculously small, but enough to furnish the necessities and a luxury now and then. I learned to crowd much work into a given period of time. I learned the value and limitations of running a bluff. I learned to love some of the faculty men, who were patient with the shortcomings of the shop. Also I got off my school work in pretty good shape.
My junior year was not so bad. I had learned that it was not a hanging crime for a publication to come out late—although some of the editors seemed to think so. I had a better and larger force of student printers, and I had more time for recreation. Also my salary had been increased so that I never had to worry about my board bill.
At the beginning of my senior year, having been elected editor of The Tar Heel, the college weekly, I resigned as manager and borrowed a little money. I did some work in the shop, enough to keep me from forgetting that I was a horny-handed son of toil, and associated (euphemism for loafed) with my fellows more, and played a little football—and made marks that were not nearly so good as those I had made in the days of my labor.
Altogether, though I wouldn’t care to go through with it again, the work there was good for me. It was hard at times, mighty hard. But the old shop was a God-send to me, as it has been a God-send to many another young fellow, who owes his college training to the opportunity offered there.
Greensboro, N. C.
NO WORK TOO HARD
REV. JOHN S. HALFAKER, B.A.
On January 7, 1902, after a long and hard summer’s work on the farm I determined to enter college and prepare myself educationally for the Christian ministry. I had carefully saved the earnings from my summer’s work, which was my first away from home. My accumulations amounted to one Crescent bicycle, a trunk filled with the kind of clothing that a green country lad would get when making his first purchases in the average “Jew Store,” and one hundred and twenty dollars in cash. I felt that with this I would be able to become established and be in a position to earn my way. My intentions were good and my faith was strong.
Having seen in the Herald of Gospel Liberty the announcement that any honest industrious young man who desired a college education could attend Defiance College a whole year for one hundred and ten dollars, I thought, here was my chance. Surely if such a young man could go to college for the amount named above I was running no serious risk in undertaking to go from January to June on that amount. My eagerness increased.
Now, it was almost two hundred miles from my home to Defiance, Ohio. This was a long journey for a lad of my makeup to take on his own initiative and under protest of many friends. But amid showers of tears and volumes of good advice my mind was made up, and no one was happier than I when the time came to start.
At eight-thirty o’clock I arrived in the historic old town of Defiance, reputed far and wide for its mud and natural scenery. I shall never forget the old board walks. It was dark and the rain was coming straight down. No one met me at the train for I had sent no herald to announce my arrival. I mounted the old hack and made my way straight to the College. At that time the institution did not belong to the Christian denomination. Really you would have thought it didn’t belong to anyone. Dr. John R. H. Latchaw was the President and Rev. P. W. McReynolds was Dean. Dr. Latchaw was out of the city and when I arrived at the college Dean McReynolds met me at the door. He received me and welcomed me in his characteristic manner and proceeded at once to enroll me as a student. I was soon enrolled, had my tuition paid, and was on my way in company with the Dean to find a room. By nine o’clock I was located and had partially unpacked my trunk. That was “all glory” for me.
I was out for business, therefore it was my business to be out. My plans were laid to be regular and persistent in my work, so, no sooner were we located, than I was on my way down town to purchase an alarm clock.
Not only did I need the College but the College needed me, as luck would have it. The basement was full of four-foot wood (cord wood), which must be made ready for four small heaters in various rooms of the building. It was in the basement of the College building that I took my physical culture each evening and on Saturdays, with a cash dividend of twenty-five cents for each cord of wood I cut. Soon we had all the wood cut, and I was out of a job. But my attention was called to the fact that more wood was needed at my room, and that it was my turn to furnish the supply. I inquired and found that if I would walk out in the country about three miles I could have the privilege of chopping up the dead timber for the wood. On Saturday mornings I shouldered my ax and saw and made for the woods. Many was the day that I chopped entirely with the ax all day, with four cords of fine wood in the rick at night and a good supply of tired and sore muscles. We were able to get the wood hauled in at twenty-five cents a cord. I had my supply of wood for our room, and sold about ten cords to other students who had more money than desire to exercise after the woodman’s fashion. I would deliver the wood evenings at $1.50 a cord. This gave me some spending money.
June came and I was getting along well, when one day after supper at the club I engaged in a wrestling match which resulted in a broken arm. All my plans were broken in a moment. My work was at an end for the summer. After commencement I returned home and spent the summer doing errands and chores with no financial income.
During the summer I was notified that the College would be removed from Defiance, Ohio, to Muncie, Indiana, about fifty miles from my home, and that the school would be known as Palmer University. I was urged to come to Muncie early and enroll in the new institution. No sooner did I receive the word than I mounted my bicycle and peddled my way over to Muncie to see what arrangements I could make to earn my way. The President arranged for me to become advertising solicitor and business manager of the University Bulletin. This was a new line of work for me, and it was with some hesitancy that I took hold of the work. But I was in no condition for physical labor; so gave myself the advantage of a doubt and went to work at once. I was very successful and cleared about forty dollars, which those in charge seemed to think was too large an income for a student and began at once to curtail the contract. This was not at all pleasing to me.
In the meanwhile the effort to remove the College from Defiance to Muncie had failed. The citizens of Defiance arose in arms, elected Dean McReynolds President of the College, put up a considerable cash guaranty and began an enthusiastic canvass for students and money. The College at Defiance became the property of the Christian Church, and a definite campaign for funds was instituted and carried forward by President McReynolds. All the old students were at once communicated with and urged to return. I was acquainted at Defiance and was only waiting for an opportunity to return.
President McReynolds remembered the farmer lad who could handle the saw and the ax so well. He wrote me that if I would come to Defiance he would give the position of janitor at a salary of seven dollars per month and that I could room in the College building and board myself. I thought that I would be able to earn something in addition, so I sat down and answered the letter at once, stating the train on which I would arrive.
When I reached Defiance I thought it the most beautiful spot in all the earth. I felt like the prodigal son when he came in sight of his father’s house. President McReynolds met me about two blocks from the campus and with suit-case in hand we went to the College. In less time than it takes to write it we had gone over the work and I was employed as janitor of the College, a position which I held for two long school years. My arm was weak and tender, but the work was not slighted. At the close of each month I received a check for seven dollars. The smile that played over the President’s face was worth more than the check. He simply wouldn’t let a fellow get discouraged or give up.
Of course, it was impossible to get along on seven dollars a month, even if one had no room-rent to pay and boarded himself, so I was compelled to earn something besides. I undertook the laundry agency, which the first week netted me the snug sum of ten cents. But by the following June my commissions amounted to from two and a half to three and a half dollars each week. It was a good business indeed for a student. At the same time I was college librarian and in this way earned a part of my tuition. My work was very heavy, indeed, but I had never failed to make the grade; so I felt that the only honorable way out was to go straight ahead.
In the fall of 1903 I applied to the Northwestern Ohio Conference for a license to preach, which was granted. I began by supplying wherever opportunity afforded. I did not drop any of the work I had been doing, but during the remaining college course I supplied the pulpits of over forty different churches. Sometimes they more than paid my expenses, and again I bore my own expenses. In the fall of 1904 I accepted the pastorate of two churches in connection with my college work. All the time I was compelled to do at least a part of the work at the College. In January of 1905 when I engaged in special meetings with my churches it was impossible for me to carry the work at the College. I then left school and accepted the pastorate of the third church. In July of 1905 I married and moved to Wakarusa as pastor of the Christian Church there. I served that church for a period of two years, after which I resigned to complete my course at the College. I moved to Defiance and served two churches during the school year of 1907-8, and graduated in June of 1908. I am proud of my Alma Mater, and since my graduation I have had the honor of being president of our Alumni Association.
In September of 1908 I was called to serve the Christian Church at Lima, Ohio, as pastor. I continued for just four years. I then received and accepted a call to the pastorate of the First Christian Church of Columbus, Ohio.
These have been years of toil and sacrifice and joy. Though much of the way seemed dark, I have been conscious of the guidance of an unseen hand all the way.
Columbus, Ohio.
CULTIVATING SIDE LINES
PROFESSOR DANIEL BOONE HELLER, A.B.
I was born January 19, 1888, on a small farm near Ladora, Iowa County, Iowa. My first nine years were care free, with no responsibility except school and play. In the spring of my tenth year my mother died, and there being a large family it was difficult for father to keep the children together thereafter. In the following fall I, with two younger brothers and a sister, was placed in the care of the Iowa Children’s Home at Des Moines, Iowa. In the following February I was “bound out” to a big ranchman in South Dakota.
Tagged as a sack of sugar, stating my name, from whence I came, and my destination, I was ushered aboard a Milwaukee train, only too soon to reach my new home on the Dakota prairie. Very soon after my arrival upon the ranch, I was informed that the purpose of my presence there was not for ornament but for work. I also very early realized that my portion of the work was not imaginary. During the second summer, my assignment was to milk ten cows twice daily and to spend the rest of the eighteen hours of the working day in the harvest field. I did not, however, complain about the amount of work that I had to do, but I did object to the kind of treatment that was accorded to me. Being but eleven years of age, I did not have the judgment of a man, and I suffered for it. I shall carry through life scars of that old raw-hide whip,—and they did not come by chance. Believing that I was not adapted to ranch life, I decided to take an extended leave of absence. On the 5th of August, 1899, before daybreak, unknown to anybody, I started on my journey. All day under a scorching sun I tramped the dusty road westward across the prairie. Tired, penniless, and half starved, I begged food and lodging of a family late in the evening. I told them my story, and winning their sympathy I remained with them several weeks.
After an absence of about two years, I returned to Iowa County, only to find that my old home was no more. My father, older brother, and sisters were each supporting themselves, and I must do likewise. For seven years I made my home with an old soldier, who lived near Ladora. I worked during each summer, and very profitably spent the short winters at the yellow schoolhouse located in the woods. In the fall of my eighteenth year I entered the high school at Ladora. The school was small, not accredited, hence the advantages offered were much inferior to those of larger schools. Believing that I could make better progress elsewhere, I entered the Iowa Wesleyan Academy in the fall of 1907. It was here that I first came in contact with the real struggle for an education. I had often dreamed of college life and its opportunities. Now my visions were beginning to be realized, but not without effort. I entered the Iowa Wesleyan Academy with three hundred dollars and an ambition; after graduating from the Academy, I had only an ambition. My money was gone, and there were four years of college life yet before me; but my ambition was only bigger. My willingness to work and my good health were the factors which made my education possible.
Upon my arrival at Wesleyan I had a very cordial introduction to a Hershey Hall dishpan and we very soon became intimate. In addition to the dishwashing, I mowed lawns, tended furnaces, swept houses, and even did family washing. I was there for an education and determined to get it at any cost. During my first summer vacation I followed the worn trail of the canvasser, to return with some valuable experience and little profit. During my second summer I was given employment with a Chautauqua system as tent hand. I am now serving my fifth consecutive season, having been promoted to advance diplomat. The Chautauqua affords employment for about ten weeks during the summer and an opportunity to hear the very best talent on the American platform. The experience in Chautauqua work has been worth as much to me as two years or more in college. I value very highly indeed the privilege of coming into personal contact with such men as Senator Gore, and Hon. W. J. Bryan.
While listening to these masters of the platform, I conceived the idea of lecturing on my own account. Realizing my lack of ability to compile an original lecture, I secured a note-book, wrote down everything I heard. After collecting for two summers I arranged my stories in series under the caption of “Chips and Whittlings.” I had printed a lot of advertising material, and posing as a humorist, I began my platform career. Some of my friends laughed at my undertaking, while others commended my nerve; but it was easier bread and butter than sawing wood. I had to do one or the other, so I stuck to the platform. Without serious neglect to my college work, I had by the end of that school year realized a profit of three hundred dollars above expenses. After another summer I compiled another lecture entitled “Scrap Iron.” My people did not fall over each other to hear my lectures, yet I usually made good and have even filled a number of return dates.
I cannot remember when or how I received the inspiration to attain a college education. I entered with a determination to win; to win not only a degree, but every experience possible. In many ways I have won, but not because of my ability; only by hard and persistent work. Three times I represented Iowa Wesleyan in debate; twenty-two times I fought for her laurels upon the gridiron; and, last year, representing Wesleyan in the Iowa State Oratorical Contest, I carried the purple and white to victory. I served as president of the Hamline Literary Society; was for three years a member of the Y. M. C. A. Cabinet, one year as president; a member of a Gospel team; and a student member of the Forensic League. In my sophomore year I won the debating medal. In my senior year I was awarded the national degree in the Pi Kappa Delta, an honorary forensic fraternity. I was charter member of the Sigma Kappa Zeta fraternity, which, during my senior year, was granted a charter by the national Sigma Phi Epsilon fraternity. My activities were not, however, confined to college alone.
My college life at Iowa Wesleyan has truly been full of many and varied experiences. Believing that old motto, “We are rewarded according to our efforts,” I resolved always to do my best, and the results have not been disappointing. While studying constitutes a big part of college, yet I am convinced that books alone are by no means all of an education. In college I have ever striven for the practical. I now possess two degrees, one from the college of Liberal Arts, the other from the college of “Hard Knocks.” I know what I have; but more than that, I know the price that it cost. I pride myself as being one of the fortunates who has worked his entire way through college.
Batavia, Iowa.
A SMILING SELF-RELIANCE
REV. BISHOP EDWIN H. HUGHES, A.B., A.M.,
S.T.B., S.T.D., D.D., LL.D.
When I was nineteen years of age, I concluded that it was no longer right to ask my father to continue my support while I was a college student. It simply meant going in debt for him. I preferred, if it were necessary, to assume the debt myself. I then began to plan to maintain myself during the remaining five years of my collegiate and professional courses.
I was able to do this without any particular difficulty. I do not have the slightest reason to pose as a hero in the transaction. I made considerable money by securing the agency for a photograph gallery in a large city not very distant from the College. I added to my funds likewise by getting out certain advertisements for a lecture course, being paid a fair commission on all advertisements secured. I preached occasionally also as a supply and received some remuneration for this work. In addition to these three sources of income, in my senior year I received some prize money, which was a very great help. My last two years in the theological seminary I was able to support myself entirely and to add very largely to my working library by taking the pastorate of a small church. Indeed, while I was in the seminary, I managed to pay off all the debt that I had incurred while going through college.
It is my deliberate opinion that the poor boy in America has even a better chance for an education than the wealthy boy. This observation grows out of the experience of my student days, and likewise out of my experience as a college president. The poor boy is much more likely to present over the counter those higher purchase-prices than are absolutely necessary in the securing of an education. Given strong purpose and good health, there is no reason why the average American youth should not go through college.
My final word on the subject would be this: Some young fellows who “work their way” through are a little too apt to do considerable whining and to put themselves in the attitude of claiming sympathy. I do not believe that this mood has a good effect on character. A smiling self-reliance will represent a much more winning attitude.
I shall be happy if these few words shall prove in the least degree inspiring to any of our American youth and shall add even one good life to that procession that moves toward our higher institutions of learning.
San Francisco, Cal.
A MOTHER’S INFLUENCE
REV. A. B. KENDALL, D.D.
I am not a self-made man. I doubt if any man is. I guess I was born with a love for books. I did not make that. I learned to read, so I have been told, by bringing a book to my mother and asking her the names of the letters and what they spelled. I recall with a pleasure, that has never lost its peculiar charm through the years, a visit at the home of a neighbor when I was not yet three years of age and the placing in my hands of a blue covered book with pictures of birds and animals in it. The feeling of delight, the thrill of joy, the profound impression of that one day and incident have never left me. I love a book still. Just to feel it, let alone peruse it, is like caressing a loved one.
I possess, I always have possessed, an unusually good memory. I did not make that. I was naturally observant. No credit can accrue to me from that source. I loved to learn. Some grammarians may differ with me in the use of the word “love,” but let them; I do not care, it may be because they have never loved in that way. I must have inherited that. I was passionately fond of music. Another day stands out across the years as memory travels back, when as a boy of eight or nine years of age I traveled from the little log cabin on the farm where I lived to the nearest town, three miles away, with a pail of blackberries on my arm which I peddled from door to door. In my travels I found myself in the vicinity of a group of fine brick and stone buildings which I knew instinctively was the State Normal School and from within the walls of that building there floated strains of heavenly music. It may have been some pupil practicing scales, I know not; but this I do know, it was celestial to me, and I see that boy in poor, shabby clothes, but neat as mother’s love could make them, barefooted, tired, dusty, standing there with the big tears running down his cheeks, his heart filled with an inexpressionable longing to be able to play like that, and with it a desire to go to school and obtain an education. I did not make that desire.
And then at the back of and under and through all the woof of every man’s life, if he be not blind, he can see, or if he be not dishonest and will acknowledge it, there ever runs the warp of the wonderful influences of other lives and the strange providential guidings which do more than anything else to make men and women.
Supreme among these influences, as in most men’s lives, was the influence of my sainted mother, whose self-sacrifice for her boy, who so many times was so unworthy of it, has been the most potent factor in helping me achieve whatever of real success I may have attained.
My mother was a widow left with six children, five of whom were at home. The youngest was a girl less than two years of age, another was under four, and I was not yet six years of age. We moved at the time of her widowhood from the city to my grandfather’s farm. Grandfather had died and grandmother was left with no one to care for the farm. My brother and I were the farmers. He was fifteen years of age and I was about six. The country school was a mile and a half from our home. I went winters rather irregularly, for the cold weather and deep snows of northwestern Pennsylvania in those days made it well-nigh impossible to attend regularly. In the summer there was the farm work which prevented my getting the benefit of the summer term. But I studied and read not with any definite aim, but just because I liked to study and read. Grandmother’s death and the sale of the old farm when I was about eleven years of age, left the mother with nothing but her bare hands to support her growing family. I went to work on a farm and the outlook for an education was anything but reassuring. I still continued to get some schooling at the little country school during the winter. The summer that I was fifteen I was working in the garden of the pastor of the little Christian church, which I attended, and he told in the neighborhood that he had found a diamond in the rough. I have never questioned the latter part of that statement as applied to me, but have always felt that the good old man’s vision must have been somewhat impaired by his years. However that may be, he resolved to see if some way could not be devised for polishing the rough specimen.
Soon after this he retired from the active ministry and went to live in the town of Yellow Springs, Ohio. At this place the Christian denomination had a college known as Antioch College.
One day our little family was thrown into excitement by a letter from the afore-mentioned pastor, the Rev. Joseph Weeks, saying that he had procured for my mother the position of cook for the college boarding club and an opportunity for me and my sister, next younger than I, to work our way through school. After much deliberation and many councils, it was finally decided that we go. That was a happy time for me. The impressions which crowded thick and fast into my life at this time can never be erased or forgotten. The wonderful journey, the great stone building, the dormitories, the beautiful campus, the teachers, and the dear old library. Oh, the library was best of all.
On my arrival I went to work in the dining-room. It was my duty to fill the water glasses on the tables before each meal and then to assist in clearing the tables at the close of each meal and to help in the washing of the dishes. I also carried coal and water for the kitchen. I spent one happy year there and I do not think that my teachers during the nine months that I was under their training and polishing ever discovered any diamond-like qualities about me except the roughness. Overtaxed with the work, mother’s health broke and we were forced to leave. It was a bitter disappointment to me. I, as the oldest at home, felt that I must try to do something to help care for the rest of the family. Then came days of darkness and struggle. I could find no work. Finally a farmer, taking advantage of my desperate condition, hired me for the munificent salary of six dollars per month. At one time during this period I walked twenty miles to the city of Erie and hunted for work as faithfully as I knew how to look for work in a great city, but found none, and was forced to walk back again disheartened, only to be told by a penurious relative where I had been staying that “I had not tried to get work.” I hope God has forgiven him. I believe I have, but it still hurts when I think of it. Then I walked fifty miles to the city of Ashtabula, Ohio, stopping at the towns on the way, in some of which I had acquaintances, and tried to find work, but without avail. Finally, finding myself in the city friendless, homeless, penniless, night came on and I crept under a sidewalk hungry and thoroughly disheartened, and slept. In the morning somewhat rested I walked to a neighboring town where a cousin of my mother’s resided; there I got a dinner and a good night’s rest. From there I journeyed back home.
But the darkest day will have its dawning and the longest lane its turning, and that fall again the way opened and I entered the Old Waterford Academy at Waterford, Pa. Here I did janitor work the first year, in the Academy, and earned what extra money I could around the town by splitting wood and doing odd jobs during my leisure hours. The second year I obtained the janitorship of the graded school. By dint of hard work, carrying seven studies each term, I completed the three years’ course in two years, graduating in 1889. Then I felt that on account of my mother and sisters I could not remain longer in school, but must look after them, which I did until the death of my mother and the marriage of my sisters. During these years I had varied experience, working at shoveling dirt on the streets of Erie, unloading lumber barges at the docks, as attendant in the State Hospital for the Insane, teaching school, driving a team in the lumber woods as a lumber jack, working three years at printing, two years in a general agency of fire insurance, as secretary of Young Men’s Christian Association and physical director of same, and finally, entering the ministry.
After the death of my mother and after someone else had relieved me of responsibility for the care of my sisters, I felt the need of further preparation for the work to which I had been called. I felt that I was too old to attempt a college course, and decided that if it were possible I would like to take a course in the Moody Bible School at Chicago. I did not have the money to do this, but felt that some way would open. God almost miraculously opened a way, and I became director of the religious and club work for men and boys in a social settlement in Chicago where the salary was sufficient to aid me in doing this very well. Thus I was able to graduate from the Moody Bible Institute, the best school I know of for the training of Christian workers.
I would like to say to any young man or woman, anywhere, I can think of but two things that need stand in your way of getting a thorough school training. One is, health so poor that you cannot attain it, or the care of others which may demand your time and energies to such an extent that you cannot devote either to the pursuit of knowledge. To such let me say that there are lessons to be learned under these circumstances of equal value with the training of the schools, and the curriculum of no school, college or university can furnish them. Your loss will not be without its compensation. If you meet the disappointments cheerily, bravely, and strive to make the most of life and learn your lessons from the school in which you are ever being trained, the great school of life, you will grow into a broader, deeper, tenderer, nobler man or woman.
It is not so much poverty and environment that will keep boys and girls from an education as it is lack of vision, desire, determination, perseverance.
I am not at all anxious about the boy or girl who has these qualities. They will succeed in the great race of life, if upheld by a strong moral purpose at the back of it all. It is the boy or girl who, having the advantages, the opportunity, the means for an education, has not the vision, the desire, the purpose, that needs our sympathy and anxious thought.
Burlington, N. C.
RICHES MORE OF A HANDICAP THAN
POVERTY
WALTER P. LAWRENCE, A.M., LITT.D., DEAN OF
MEN OF ELON COLLEGE
Early in September, 1890, I arrived at Elon College about a week after the opening of the first session of the College. I had in money and other resources that I could turn into money less than $100. My purpose was to stay until my money gave out—perhaps I could get on by supplementing it with odd jobs until well on into the spring. It was my ambition to be a teacher in an academy or high school. I felt that to rub my elbows against college walls a few months, at least, would eminently satisfy my ideal of preparation.
Well, that was a wonderful $100. It opened doors, revealed vistas, heightened ideals, increased the tension of life until since the day I entered college I have lived in a different world. The College was young—had no traditions, casts or cliques among its membership. As a subfreshman I was allowed to possess my soul in peace and live my life as leisurely or as diligently as I pleased. I chose soon after getting into the college current to live as diligently as possible. I meant to make the freshman year and the substudies also while my money lasted. I succeeded. By the time my money was gone—about the first of April, 1891—a long vista of a complete college course had burst invitingly before me with “graduation” in letters of fire at the end. What should I do? I was penniless, and knew no one from whom I could borrow. I had been reared, the son of a country minister, in a back section, sometimes called “backwoods,” where life was pure but simple and easy-going. Everybody was poor, and a college bred man a curiosity. Having grown to manhood under such conditions, I felt keenly the struggle now going on between poverty and the newly awakened ambitions in my life. But there was nothing to do but to accept the inevitable. The situation, I kept to myself. I felt it a disgrace to be penniless amongst many who seemed to have abundance; so I kept my troubles to myself until I was about to leave, when to my surprise, Mr. Tom Strowd, with whom and his excellent family I had boarded, offered to credit my board account until the end of the session. Another gentleman, Mr. P. A. Long, offered to give me a job of carpenter work during vacation. The results were, I finished the session on the strength of credit with people, all of whom were strangers to me when I came to the college.
The carpenter work in the summer and of afternoons and Saturdays until late in the fall, together with more credit on college expenses in the spring, got me through the sophomore year. The severe strain of working my way and keeping up my studies threw me into a fever in the late fall, which lasted several weeks, and it was with difficulty that I passed my work in college. At commencement, however, I had put the sophomore year behind me with a fair record, and the burning letters “graduation” were perceptibly nearer than a year ago, yet I was almost as near out of debt as then.
This summer I taught school at Cedar Falls, a little manufacturing town in Randolph County, N. C. While here I fell under the kindly interest of the wealthiest man of the town, Mr. O. R. Cox, who, after learning something of how I had made my way thus far, offered to lend me such sums of money as I should need to get through the next two years. The remaining two years went smoothly along. I was in good health and supplemented the loans from Mr. Cox with what I could earn by various kinds of self-help; for I borrowed as little as possible.
These two last years were filled with work and many gratifications also, for the literary society and the religious organizations gave me what honors they had to bestow. I was president of the Y. M. C. A., was sent to Y. M. C. A. conferences and conventions; was teacher in the Sunday School and later superintendent. I represented the literary society several times, twice at commencement, and other times in public debates. I was the valedictorian of my class on Commencement Day, and on the same day was offered a position in the English department, with privilege to prepare myself for the place by university study. I have, therefore, supplemented my college course by special study in the University of North Carolina, Yale, and Oxford.
It is trying and positively discouraging many times for one to have to make his own way through college. The experience has put the conviction in me, however, that the young person appearing at the threshold of a college course is more seriously handicapped if he has too much money than he who has none at all.
Elon College, N. C.
THE WILL AND THE WAY
REV. ROY MCCUSKEY, A.B., S.T.B.
I had a great desire for an education. This desire was the outcome of two strong convictions—that my place in the world’s work was to be in the ministry of the Gospel; that I could never render the best service in that capacity without a thorough education. When I was ten years old my mother was left a widow. Father bequeathed to his wife and children a noble character, but no estate. I early learned the lessons of industry and frugality, and these combined with some native determination, made the venture of securing a college course at the age of eighteen rather easy. I was not afraid to work, nor to suffer.
I was a stranger to the faculty and student body. Moreover, I was a stranger to college ways, so my first step was to borrow enough money to put me through at least part of the first year. I found some janitor work that year. It helped, but not much. The next summer I worked in a grocery store, and when the term opened in the fall, I was back with a little money and plenty of nerve. During the second year more janitor work occupied my spare hours until the spring when I organized a boarding club, and remained as manager of that for the next two years. This partly paid my board, but room rent, tuition, and clothing were to be provided. Each summer I sought employment. One vacation was spent in a tin can factory; another in the Y. M. C. A., as an assistant secretary; another in doing my first preaching in a schoolhouse in the outskirts of the city of Wheeling. I had to do almost three full years of preparatory work, and my work was so irregular that I scarcely had a “class” until my senior year in college. Through the kindness of the faculty, I was permitted to do some work during vacation, pass examinations at the fall opening, and receive credits. I thus made my full course in economics.
The first money which I had borrowed was long overdue, although I had kept the interest paid. The note called for settlement, so after I had been in the struggle for four years, I asked for an appointment at the fall conference of our church and was sent to a circuit that paid $500. I served it for one year out of school. I felt more than ever desirous to finish my education, so I made preparations to return to college the next fall. The officials of the churches which I had been serving made it possible for me to return to them while carrying the regular work in my studies. Pastoral work was not demanded, and each week I traveled something over two hundred miles on the railroad, going to and from these churches, or rather, the station nearest the churches, and then walking from five to ten miles and preaching three times on Sunday. This was hard on the purse and the pulse, so the next year I asked for churches nearer the college. I got them. A job lot of them at that—just eight, with an extra preaching place tacked on! What I lost in railroad mileage, I gained in foot travel, beautiful mountain scenery, and good atmosphere. In June, 1908, I received the bachelor of arts degree, and in September of the same year entered Boston University School of Theology, from which I was graduated in June, 1911. My expenses were met here by preaching in a small church on the south shore of Cape Cod. With all my working I needed more money than I could earn, and the only resort was borrowing, which I did from my life insurance company, and from the board of education of the Methodist Episcopal Church. In all, I have spent nine full years in college and seminary work with a fairly good record in studies, and received no help except from my own labor. Having the will, I made the way.
Shinnston, W. Va.
KEEP GOOD COMPANY
PROFESSOR M. A. MCLEOD, A.B.
Being the son of an invalid mother and a Confederate soldier who received a wound that permanently disabled him, I did not attend school but five months till I was twenty-one years of age. Believing that education is to agriculture, commerce, society, professions, government, and Christianity what the sunshine and the rain are to the vegetable kingdom, and what Christ is to those who believe on Him, I decided to try to cultivate the mind of myself and as many others as I could.
When I left home, I had one dollar. “Keep good company, and may God bless you,” were the words which my mother gave me. By the time I had secured work, I had spent my dollar, but held on to the advice, which did me more good than all the gold of California would have done me. I was willing to do any honest thing to educate myself. I plowed, cooked, walked four miles to school, worked on Saturdays and during vacation, drove a wagon, rang bells, studied fifteen hours every twenty-four, and taught school.
Broadway, N. C.
THE DEMOCRACY OF A COLLEGE
HON. EDWIN G. MOON, PH.B., B.L.
I finished preparatory school in June, 1891, and was in debt. I taught a district school during the following season, paid the debt, and then taught another year in the preparatory itself. In the fall of 1893 I had accumulated about $150.
I had previously decided to enter the University as soon as I could, and in September I went to Iowa City with what cash I had and became a freshman. At that time I did not know how I should be able to sustain myself during the year, but proposed to remain there as long as I could and not to leave until I was compelled to do so by physical necessities. In those days board was a good deal cheaper than now, and clubs furnished the necessaries of life for $2.50 a week and the room cost us $6 a month, which sum was divided between myself and room-mate.
Along toward Christmas the necessity of purchasing a number of things that I could not figure on before, in the way of clothing and supplies, made it obvious that my funds would be exhausted long before the spring vacation of my freshman year. I had previously been looking around for a place to earn part of my expenses and finally secured a job as a waiter at a restaurant. In this manner I cut off the weekly expense for meals, as my meals were furnished at the restaurant as compensation for my services. Aside from this my expenses remained the same.
I finished that year with some money to spare and invested something in an outfit to enable me to earn money in the sale of stereoscopic views. The summer of 1893 was exceeding dry and times were very hard and this venture proved an expensive failure. At the end of three weeks from the time I started my money was gone and I had to get back home and start into something else. I finally got a job of looking after the insane patients at the Poor Farm at $25 a month and went back to the University with about $50. The second year was the hardest I had at the University, and, in fact, I had to borrow $100, which I secured from an old gentleman to whom I was a stranger, but to whom I was recommended by several students.
I had realized the necessity, from previous experience, of looking ahead for employment, and so when the spring vacation came I had got a job in the University library which I think paid me $2.00 a day, and in addition thereto I was janitor for the Y. M. C. A. building and also for one of the churches. The janitor work I did at night. This work I carried through the summer, managing still to do the work at the restaurant, which was light during the summer, but which paid for my meals. This gave me ample funds to begin my junior year. In the fall of that year I found an opportunity to write editorials for a local paper, which paid me $5.00 a week, so that I was able to quit the restaurant work. I was able to pay something on the loan that year, although not very much. This work on the newspaper I continued as long as I was in the University and it finally was the means of my finishing there in 1897.
I was a little in debt when I finished the course, but had another year yet in school before I could be admitted to the bar. I concluded to go to the city where I could get some business experience in a law office aside from training in school. So I went to Chicago and got a job in a law office at $5.00 a week, and attended a night school. Previous experience had taught me that the bare necessities of life do not cost so very much. I refunded the loan that I had secured while at the University and got $50 more. By securing a room that was large enough for three of us at Chicago, and which in addition had an alcove with a gas stove in it, where we could prepare part of our meals, I found living inexpensive.
After finishing the law school there, I remained a year working in a law office during the day and in the Crerar Library at night, until I had sufficient funds to pay all of my debts and to come back to Iowa and pay a few months’ rent for an office. I began business in my present location in that manner and have continued there ever since.
In 1906 I went to the State Senate as a representative of this district, and there found as colleagues five boys whom I had known at the University. Two of them had supported themselves while at the University by work similar to mine. One of them was janitor of a church and the other had been a waiter at a restaurant. I cannot say that I regard the experience as involving any great hardship. I never felt at any time, while I was at the University, that this employment which was obligatory was of any disadvantage to me, except that it took more time than I wished to devote to work. My experience is that there is more of a democratic spirit in universities and colleges than is found elsewhere in the world. Such work as I did could have been done by any able-bodied student, and I am quite certain it never would prove disadvantageous to his social standing. I believe that if I had it to do over again I could do the same thing to better advantage. While expenses are now higher than they were, compensation for labor is also a good deal higher and employment is much more easily found than during the years from 1893 to 1897. The question as to whether a collegiate education is available to every young man in this country I think is entirely dependent upon the question as to whether it is desired. I have no doubt that the experiences of many whom I knew at the University, which experiences were similar to mine, could be duplicated in almost any of the larger institutions of the country.
Ottumwa, Iowa.
OBEYING THE CALL
REV. J. F. MORGAN, A.B.
When I was about fifteen years of age I was converted and joined Big Oak Christian Church in Moore County, North Carolina. At the age of about seventeen I felt the divine call into the gospel ministry. I made known to the Lord my willingness to obey the heavenly vision. But I could not see how I could prepare myself for so great a work as I did not have any money. Neither was my father able to help me in a financial way. I was then working at public work and the money that I earned was being used to help support the large family to which I belonged, there being nine boys and four girls in our family.
However, I told my father of my desires and how that I desired to become a preacher some day. He told me that if I could make my own way through school he would let me go then, even though I had not reached the age of my freedom. I appreciated this kindness of my father very much. He was always good to us boys, and so was mother. But they were poor and I knew they needed my wages, at least until I was twenty-one. I knew I was no better than my other brothers, and I also knew that my father was not able to treat us all so nicely as to let us quit working for him before we were twenty-one years old. Hence I felt it best to work on with him until I reached that age, which I did.
On my twenty-first birthday the “boss man” paid me off and I carried the money to my father and gave it to him. I then began to work for myself and to plan to go to school. I worked at a shingle mill for two months, saving in that time about $30.00. I then left home for school. I had about fifteen dollars when I got to the first school I attended which was Why Not Academy in Randolph County, N. C., it being conducted at that time by Professor G. F. Garner. Here I kept “bachelor’s hall,” doing my own cooking and cutting wood on Saturdays to help defray my expenses.
While here I began to correspond with the President of Elon College, Elon College, N. C. This institution belongs to my own denomination and I decided that I wanted to study there. I had no money with which to pay my expenses, but I had some good friends who loaned me enough money to start to college on. So I entered Elon College. I was timid, dull, and embarrassed, but I know God had called me to a great work and that call included a preparation. I was willing to make the sacrifice. Those things with which I busied myself in the afternoons were chopping wood, cutting corn, and cleaning off the town cemetery. I kept up this work for the first year. The second year my conference licensed me to preach and I was called as pastor of two churches. After this I made my way through college by doing pastoral work. It was hard on me, but I believe it was God’s way of helping me through college.
My college career was one of hard work and much toil. In fact it was a miracle that I got through at all. And I am convinced that if a man has a noble purpose prompting him to strive for an education, he can get it.
Elon College, N. C.
DETERMINATION AND STEADFASTNESS
WINS.
J. R. MOSLEY, L.I., B.S., M.S., PH.D.
My observation and experience has been that anyone who is anxious enough for a knowledge and culture to be willing to sacrifice false pride, and do well whatever his hands find to do that needs doing, can easily go through college, and even take advanced university training. It is not so much a question of money as desire, determination and steadfastness. The only exception is where one is bound by higher duties, such as caring for parents, or any call from the Divine that is direct and immediate.
When I started to college in the fall of 1889, I only had, of my own making, a little more than enough money to buy necessary clothing and railroad fare from Statesville, N. C., to Nashville, Tenn. I had stood the competitive examination for a scholarship at Peabody College for Teachers and that paid two hundred dollars a year in addition to free tuition.
Major Finger, who was then Superintendent of Education for North Carolina, wrote me that while others had won the scholarships open to North Carolina for that year, I was prepared to enter the sophomore class at Peabody, and that if I would pay my expenses one year, he would, upon the recommendation of the President, appoint me to a scholarship which would be good for two years. When mother saw my heart was set on going to college, she said, “Rufus shall go if we have to sell the creek field.” As I was the fourth child of a family of eight children, and as we were not through paying for the whole farm, I could not accept such a sacrifice.
When I told Mr. R. G. Franklin of Elkin, N. C., of Major Finger’s offer, he said he would be one of three men to lend $50.00 each. Col. A. B. Galoway of Elkin, and Mr. James Bates, near Capps Mill, joined him in furnishing the strictly necessary money for the first year. Father stood my security, and he and Col. Galoway and Mr. Bates have gone where such unselfish goodness and generous faith are fully appreciated and rewarded. Only Mr. Franklin lives for me to thank and bless for his faith and helping hand when both were so much needed. The good mother still lives, and has increasing joy and hope in life, and all of her children rise up and call her blessed.
During the first year at Peabody we had a short vacation in February, and I went out as an experimental book agent. I found that as trying as it was on the agent as well as the people, I could make money as a canvasser. Sometime in the spring Dr. Payne, President of Peabody, recommended me for a scholarship, and Major Finger gave me the appointment. This I held for two years until I received my bachelor’s degree. The summer vacations were all employed in canvassing or collecting, and I became a good enough collector for a publishing house at Nashville to pay me $70.00 a month and expenses. Apart from my strict loyalty to my employer and hard work, I regret this part of my life, for I have seen for a long time that the selling of even Bibles to the poor at high prices on the seductive installment plan, is a form of business that is not righteous enough even to use as a means for getting an education. As the true light breaks upon us, we can do nothing that is not necessary, right and beneficent.
During the first three years at Nashville, I received on scholarship, made by summer work and saved enough money to pay back all I had borrowed for the first year and to take one year’s graduate work at Nashville. My expenses had been considerably increased on account of rather poor general health and the loss of time and expense of three spells of sickness while I was canvassing or collecting. Being prominent in college life, and having too much of the pride for the finest and most sensible economy, also caused my expenses to be more than were strictly necessary. Indeed false pride has been my expensive weakness and has stood most in the way of a life in strict harmony with reason, love and the spirit of truth.
Before I had taken my master’s degree at Nashville, I was offered a fellowship in the Wharton School of Finance of the University of Pennsylvania, that paid $160.00 a year, the necessary university expenses. But I had my heart set on going to the University of Chicago. President Harper told that they would do as well by me as the University of Pennsylvania, so I entered there as a graduate student in 1893, the year of the World’s Fair at Chicago. I got to see much of the exposition during its last month without harm to my class work. I was given work as an assistant in the library, which called for cutting leaves of new books and magazines, putting the library stamp upon them, and carrying them to the departmental libraries. I was also an assistant in one of the departmental libraries. A dear college friend and professor at Nashville, Mr. A. P. Bourland, gave me such aid as was necessary until I received a fellowship that paid me $320.00 a year. The fellowship was awarded by Professor Harry Pratt Judson, now the president of the University. A short time after receiving this fellowship I was offered a professorship at Mercer University, Macon, Georgia, and the way was open for me to continue my education as a teacher and as a student as long as I cared. For two years it was arranged for me to teach at Mercer half of the year and spend the other at the University of Chicago, where I taught one class and continued my work as a student. The third year I taught six months at Mercer and spent the spring semester at Heidelberg, Germany. The following year I taught about seven months at Mercer, and went to Harvard for the closing lectures of the spring term and for the summer work.
Before the sixth year of my work at Mercer had closed, I was told by Chancellor Hill of the University of Georgia, that with my consent he would go before the board of trustees and recommend the creation of a new chair, the character of which would be determined largely by preferences, and he would recommend me to fill it. As inviting as it was I declined the generous offer, and in a short time resigned my position at Mercer for the quest of health, truth and the larger freedom along the lines of study and activity.
Macon, Georgia.